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gothicminxx · 3 months

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Part 1 here

Part 2 is finally here! It took me forever to write, there’s a happy ending in this one I promise!

Satosugu x Fem! Reader

CW: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of blood, pet names (baby and angel), established relationship with Gojo, mentions of sex if you squint. A slight razzle dazzle of the Shibuya arc.

WC: 5.2k

Also do y’all like love and deadspace? Thinking of posting a Zayne one shot soon.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Late hours of the night brought the city to life, lights glittered brightly and it hid the beauty of the stars in the dark sky. Any attraction given to the charm of nature was only given to the full moon, bright and massive with a tint of blood orange to it tonight— a fitting color for Halloween night. The streets of Shibuya littered with college students and foreigners from different countries that had come down to experience a party of a lifetime. Common and unique costumes alike wandered drunkenly on the pavement, stumbling not only over their feet but words as well.

Halloween night in Shibuya was known for its array of bars, genres of music that boomed loudly in the city, and the small community of party goers that it created— a splendid environment for extroverts. It set the perfect trap for those with intentions that were the least bit pure to bait and capture the great Satoru Gojo, the man that had dampened the lives of curses the moment he was born.

The night had begun like any other, Satoru stood in the rather large kitchen with a gray towelette resting on his shoulder. He wore an apron that wrapped tightly around his slender waist as he concentrated on perfecting his tonkatsu chicken for dinner. Quietly he hummed along to a random playlist on his phone, tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth. His back muscles flexed the moment he began cutting up vegetables for dinner.

You stood in the kitchen with your husband, preparing a sweet cream that would accompany the matcha swiss rolls you were working hard on. Satoru, being a greedy man, adored having sweet pastries after dinner made by his lovely wife. He constantly begged you for a delicious confection, coaxing you with a much needed massage, or even a bath for two which always ended in a moment of tangled moans. You never complained when it came to indulging his addiction to sugar, it was a mere excuse to spend time together in the kitchen for a couple of hours, even if you already spent a lot of time with him.

Satoru grabbed plates from the cupboard to assemble your dinner as you popped your tasty dessert in the oven. Sauntering over to the small dining table you began to set everything up, allowing Satoru to pull a chair out for you before setting your dinner in front of you. Together you savored the flavors of each item of food, sharing in conversation about mundane things that held no importance at the time.

As dessert cooled down from the oven both of you sat on the cozy sectional couch in your living room, sitting on his lap to feed him dessert. Giggling as he threw compliments your way like a love sick puppy dog after each bite. Even if you had been married to Satoru for three years now the two of you acted like teenagers in love.

You laid snuggled up in his side with his arms wrapped tightly around you, watching a movie, slowly dozing off. Before a perfect night could conclude, Satoru’s phone rang loudly, begging for attention obnoxiously snapping you out of a sleepy haze. Groaning loudly he reached for his phone, pressing the green accept button with a roll of his eyes, “What is it now, Nanami?”

The deep gentle voice of Nanami flowed through his phone as he pressed it to his ear, furrowing his brows as he listened along. Being the nosy person you were, you tried your hardest to listen to the conversation but his voice was muffled. Whatever Nanami was telling Satoru it appeared to be serious, his body stiffened underneath you, “Uh huh, be there soon.” Satoru’s slender finger clicked the red decline button before he tossed the mobile device to the side.

A loud groan escaped his lips, rubbing the length of his face with his hand. A sense of worry washed over you as you quickly sat up, “I'm sorry baby, but we gotta get going.” He stated, standing from the couch as he extended his hand down to help you up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a perplexed expression falling on your beautiful face.

“It seems a veil has been casted down in Shibuya. Non-sorcerers are trapped inside without a way out, sorcerers may move freely in certain areas, while others are blocked off.” The situation sounded grave, it was concerning to be left in the dark, nobody had any idea of who could possibly be behind it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Leaning back against a metal pole you let out a loud heaving breath, clutching your cursed tool tightly that the white of your knuckles were visible. The head of a deformed human was held in your hand, blood spilling against the tile before you discarded it on the floor. Your lungs felt as if they were on fire after the relentless pace of bolting through the crowded subway station, slicing each deformed human that came near you. Mahito had an endless supply of these things, spitting more out from his mouth in globs that it seemed nearly impossible to kill them all.

Satoru had been separated from you for a mere second which was absolutely devastating for the powerful sorcerer, his main goal as it always has been, was to keep you safe in the confinements of his limitless technique. But Hanami and Jogo had different plans, separating him from you the moment an opportunity presented itself. You were ultimately the biggest thing he cared about, the cursed spirits had an understanding that as long as you were near Satoru, he would be reckless in his movements. Without hesitation he would hurt those that stood near as he used infinite void to destroy the cursed spirits if it meant keeping you safe. A technique that without fail would earn him victory.

Mahito had been put in charge of tiring you out, to exhaust all of your cursed energy, he doubted your abilities believing that you were a mere weakling. But as soon as his doubt came, it quickly deteriorated, the blade of your Katana burned bright red and pink resembling a wildfire. It terrified yet intrigued the patch face curse to witness first hand, he had only been warned that you were a reversed curse technique user with the special ability of bringing back the dead. The power of your cursed energy, the way you transferred it to the blade burning it, causing it to turn a lovely shade of glowing orange-- excited him, “I never knew you’d be this much fun!” Mahito giggled, twirling with his arms extended like a child.

Wiping sweat from your brow a smirk etched itself on your face, “I didn’t expect you to be this annoying.” You hissed, gripping the handle of the katana, digging your heel into the ground preparing to race towards him.

The cursed spirit had become a nuisance rather quickly that it had gotten under your skin. Your main focus was to run downstairs towards Satoru to be by his side, where you belonged. You knew better than to be worried about him, he was the strongest after all but you couldn’t help it— something was off. Digging the ball of your foot on the tile ground you lunged forward, the fiery blade coming in contact with the cursed spirit. Mahito’s eyes widened as your movements caught him off guard, piercing through his abdomen causing a choked cough to escape him. You twist the blade, listening to the squelch of his organs before pulling the Katana away, “I’m getting sick of your shit.” Your words are dripping with venom.

Another cackle stems from his lips that it only manages to enrage you more. The moment you had arrived with Satoru to Shibuya, warning bells rang in your head, the thick layers of the veil were enough to give you a clear sign. “Awe, you don’t mean that.” Mahito cooed, jutting his lips in a pout.

Igniting the katana with more cursed energy, your legs lept into another sprint, quick to dodge a blow from Mahito’s fist that stretched out like a rubber band. The fiery blade makes contact with his abdomen once more earning a groan of pain from his lips, crimson blood decorating the blade of your katana as it’s ripped away from Mahitos stomach. You could feel the familiar burn in your lungs and the ache in your muscles from exhaustion, constantly running circles around him for the last thirty minutes was draining.

Annoyingly enough for the patch face curse, exerting your physical stamina would never be enough to exhaust the cursed energy stored in your body. You were far too calculating, too aware of how much energy you needed to exude from yourself in order to take an opponent down; it was infuriating. If Mahito hadn’t been instructed to keep you alive, he would have touched the essence of your soul and morphed you into a doll he could play with.

Mahito tilted his head, clutching his fists tightly almost as if he was preparing to send another attack your way. Instead, he snickered as his gaze drifted to the stairs that led to the lower level of the subway station, “Come play some more, doll.” he licked his lips almost predatory as he sprinted toward the stairs, listening to your feet not far behind him-- it was all according to plan.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Cerulean eyes held a barbaric gaze, wild grin plastered on his face as his long legs took strides toward the volcano head curse, that coward in fear from the mere sight of him. His pale cheeks stained with crimson blood and his breath was frantic from eradicating deformed humans. The plan of separating him from you failed, ultimately he had released his infinite void domain for a tenth of a second to rid of the nuisances that were Mahito’s doing.

“You crying?” Satoru snickered as he stepped closer to Jogo, rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins; he felt like a god. His head tilted to the side in a mocking manner, dusting his blue blazer with a displeased look on his face, “I don’t take too kindly to being separated from my wife, you understand that… right, Jogo?”

Satoru had become fed up with the constant battle, the pathetic back and forth with curses that believed they could defeat him; he was a force to be reckoned with. As he stared at the trepidation in Jogo’s eyes; though it brought him satisfaction, he simply wanted to be at your side again to protect you. Reaching his large hand out, Saturo took a hold of Jogo’s arm, ripping the appendage off his body, a giggle escaping his lips. The curse let out a panicked yelp, trying his best to create distance between him and the six eyed sorcerer; he had to keep him busy for a few more minutes but it was starting to feel like an eternity to him. Being put against Satoru was pure misery for the volcano head.

He pushed through the crowd of frozen bodies that had been affected by his infinite void domain, finding joy in the chase. Jogo was quick on his feet but Satoru wasn’t too far behind, in his panic he found himself throwing balls of fire at the white haired man; bouncing off his limitless. Jogo knew it was a desperate attempt, that he would never be able to hit Gojo, his limitless too powerful.

Racing footsteps echoed throughout the lower level of the subway station, laughter bouncing off the walls; it sounded all too familiar to Jogo. His footsteps slowed down as the shadow of a figure danced along the wall, long blue hair flowing in the wind— Mahito appeared down the stairs, giggling like a maniac. The new presence halted Satoru the moment he laid eyes on you chasing after the patch face curse, your katana blazing an angry red.

His heart fluttered as relief washed over him; you were okay. His focus soon shifts towards you, the chase soon dispersing from his mind as Satoru’s feet quickly move in your direction; planning to shield you in the confinements of his limitless technique. It felt as though he had gone a lifetime separated from you, the worry had been gnawing at him. Yet he knew better, knew that you were capable of defending yourself in the face of danger, but it never made him worry any less.

Mahito raced toward Jogo, a smirk evident on his face, “Jogo, it’s time!” He exclaimed.

Milky hair came into your view, hand grasping your shoulder, pulling you into his side. His hold was firm as if to shield you from the world, hearing Mahito’s words was enough for the six eyes to sense a threat approaching. “Stay close to me.” Satoru instructed his jaw clenched tightly, you could only nod in response.

It was a late reaction as your eyes widened, feeling his firm body against yours; wanting to feel you close to him. Since the events that had perspired with Suguru a few years ago, Satoru kept you under lock and key like a guard dog protecting its home. It was rare for you to be out of his sight, never too far as the fear of losing you too stayed with him, sticking like gum. He requested the higher ups to keep you at Jujutsu High where you spent most of your days training the students and helping in the infirmary. While most of the teacher’s received missions often that required their attention, to keep you safe, he made sure you stayed busy at school. It was never that Satoru didn’t believe you to be capable of defending yourself or even that he doubted your abilities, he knew you were strong. But you were also the most precious thing in his life and he would be damned if even a tiny scratch scathed your pretty skin.

Jogo followed Mahito, a loud whistle erupting from his lips as if he were signaling something or someone. Satoru’s arms tightened around your waist as a figure appeared in the distance, responding to Jogo. Your throat felt tight as the silence was deafening, the footsteps rang loudly in your ears, the air impossibly thick. Instinctually your hand reached Satoru’s blazer to grasp it tightly, afraid to be separated from him once more.

“Satoru and Name, been awhile.” The voice was gentle, a silky melody that made your hearts drop to your stomachs. You knew that voice anywhere.

As the figure approached from the shadows of the subway tunnel, long raven hair entered your peripheral vision. Your grip on Satoru tightened, a lump forming in your throat that it felt as though it was closing up your esophagus. The face of the lover you lost to the grim reaper a few years ago now stood in front of you. Memories of his limp body falling in your arms that nearly crushed you, your wails and screams filling every crevice of your mind. Suguru’s bloody face flashed before your eyes, bringing you back to the field of the school-- begging Satoru that it didn’t have to end this way. You blinked a few times as he approached, how was a dead man walking? You looked up at Satoru as if asking for reassurance that he too was seeing the same thing as you. His jaw was clenched, his face drained of any color, and his lip quivered slightly-- he saw him too. “You’re the one behind this?” You blurted, unable to halt the words from escaping.

Suguru smirked, he appeared to be looking around him with admiration at the chaos that the curses caused. His coffee eyes soon focused on the two of you, “I guess so,” he chuckled, he took a step closer, “Didn’t you miss me?”

Satoru dug his nails inside of his palm the longer he stared at Suguru. His features were the same as if he had never died, as if he never left his lovers. He gritted his teeth preparing his red technique, to muster the courage to do it all over again-- to end it, but he couldn’t, “My six eyes keep telling me it’s Suguru Geto, but my heart and soul know otherwise!” He hissed, the agony he felt evident in his voice.

“So observant.” He cooed. Suguru tossed a metal cube in front of you, using the shock of the situation to his advantage. The cube opened, quick to entrap your wrists and Satoru’s tightly like cuffs.

The raven haired man reached up and pulled at the stitches engraved in his forehead, pulling up his scalp to reveal Kenjaku, a curse that has the ability to use the victim's body as his own. “Someone was kind enough to leave this body for me.”

Kenjaku’s words confused you. Satoru had taken you to the crematorium after Suguru’s death, a place where they laid sorcerer's to rest. It was a small place just outside Kyoto, surrounded by cherry blossom trees. Satoru had picked this crematorium for this reason. Suguru admired the pink color, the sweet aroma the flowers brought each season. At the time he picked an apartment with a cherry blossom tree in the backyard. Every spring he would pick the flowers to make mochi, sitting outside to delight in the sweet confection with the two of you. The cherry blossom tree held a special meaning for the both of you, it was Suguru.

The white haired man had taken you by the hand, leading you to a small koi pond. A marble tombstone with Suguru’s name had come into view, a few flowers already scattered on his grave. You reached out your fingertips to trace his name, tears rolling down your face as the reality had finally set in that he was gone. You remember setting down his favorite tea and Cherry blossom mochi that you and Satoru had stayed up all night to make that wasn’t nearly as good as his. It never made sense to you as to why your husband never allowed you to have an urn with Suguru’s ashes. You had begged him, pleaded with him to let you have that last piece of him but Satoru insisted he’d be better off somewhere lovely. His ashes were placed in the ground that would one day make a cherry blossom tree.

As he stood here now, you realized Satoru had never gotten rid of Suguru’s body. That when he had instructed Shoko to take him to get cremated it had never happened. The grave you had spent hours at, talking to him, dropping him gifts-- it was empty. “What?” You choked, your eyes immediately falling on your snowy haired lover.

Satoru avoided your gaze, dropping his head to the ground ashamed that a secret he had held onto for so long had finally come to light. He had planned to tell you one day, but as time passed and visits to Suguru’s ‘grave’ became more frequent-- he couldn’t. Kenjaku tsked, “What a pity, it was quite simple to retrieve this body. Surprised you would be so weak to not tell her.”

You winced at his mocking tone, each word stung deeper than a knife. Satoru had lied to you, kept you away from resurrecting the man you each had spent decades loving. You understood Suguru’s values would never match up to your own, that his existence alone was a threat to human society, and yet, none of it mattered. The love you held in your heart for him was much greater than the mistakes he had made, than the lives he had taken. You could never see him as a monster, Suguru had always been misunderstood. “Sato-”

He shook his head, cutting you off, “How much longer are you going to let it control you, Suguru?!” Satoru called out.

Suguru’s hand began to twitch, his hand lunging forward at his own throat causing Kenjaku to laugh in amusement, “I’ve never had a body fight back before. How entertaining.”

“You’re one of the strongest, don’t let it consume you, Sugu.” You added, his hand doing anything it can to choke the curse living inside of him.

Kenjaku laughed, peeling each finger off his neck with brute force, “Times up.” The cube that had surrounded you and Satoru slowly began to close, muffling the sounds of the outside world as it entrapped you inside its prison-- each surrounding going black.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The prison realm was compact, reeking of death from the various skeletons from past prisoners that surrounded you. The bones made for an uncomfortable mattress, Satoru had laid you on top of his body to provide you some form of cushion. It was silent in the metal box that imprisoned you compared to the noisy outside world that continued with or without you, it was a bleak thought. You laid your head on your husband’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to suppress your tears, the last thing you wanted was to be near him. Your heart felt heavy in your chest almost like a fifty pound weight rested there, it ached an agonizing pain that you could barely ignore it.

Satoru’s heart steadily beat against your ear, the only other sound that could be heard besides his breaths. He held you tightly, his arm around your waist and the other moved from your hair to infront of your eyes, obscuring your vision to total darkness, “Don’t think.” He murmured.

Your lips quivered, his words setting off each emotion you felt deeply, a choked sob raking your body. A few of your tears touched the palm of his hand, Satoru’s heart stung the more you gripped his hand, whimpering like an injured puppy. It pained him to see the damage his actions had caused, he swore to himself that he would tell you the truth on Suguru’s birthday. The day you had tirelessly baked a chocolate cake for hours in the kitchen, trying to perfect it just for him. Dolling yourself up in the mirror, that day you made sure to wear Suguru’s favorite dress that he had bought for you, a white one that made you appear like an angel sent from above. When you sat at his tombstone with balloons, cake, and sunflowers, lighting up candles on the cake as you and Satoru sang him happy birthday. He promised then that he would tell you, but he never did.

He kissed the top of your head, holding his hand still over your teary eyes, providing the only darkness he knew would calm you down. It was his form of silencing the world around you, allowing you to focus on the atmosphere around you-- acknowledging each emotion you felt that you often failed to discern. “Don’t think, just focus.” Satoru instructed once more.

Another wail left your lips that caused him to wince, holding you tighter as he buried his face in your hair. A tear slid down his face as he listened to you cry, he hated himself for the agony he had caused you. Holding his wrist tighter to keep his hand as a blind fold you listened to the quiet atmosphere around you, that stench of death that made your stomach churn reminding you of the prison you were in. Trying to grasp at the emotions that overwhelmed you, “How could you do this to me?” You choked out.

Nuzzling his cheek against your hair, you could feel the wetness-- he was crying. Satoru held onto you as his life depended on it, petrified that if he let go that you would disappear and leave him alone in this cruel world. The person he loved with his entire being, the one he would sacrifice his own life for in a heartbeat because you were absolutely everything to him. He felt like an idiot for lying to you, the truth always came out, he was a fool for believing otherwise, “Baby, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Satoru croaked, “I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you but I…”

“Decided to be selfish and lie to me instead?”

“Name-”

“No, you thought I’d be reckless and bring him back,” You shoved his hand away, sitting up on him, “Didn’t you?”

Your face was flushed, sticky with tears that persisted on falling from your eyes. Your chest heaving up and down, a clear indication that you were furious at him. Satoru sat up, averting his gaze from those pretty sad eyes of yours-- he felt sick. “Look at me!” You pleaded, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at the hurt he caused.

He placed his hands on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze as he found the strength to muster words, “I did.”

You dropped your hand from his chin, dropping your gaze to his abdomen as you frantically wiped at your tears. He doubted you, but was he wrong? His death had affected you gravely that it took months to cope, even now you still struggled on certain days. Suguru’s birthday was the hardest date to get by, alongside the day he passed, those days you wore his clothes that had already lost his scent. You drank his favorite tea even if you preferred coffee, you just wanted to feel close to him again. Satoru clung onto you those days, he sought after your comfort-- as you did his. It was silent around your home for long periods of time, embracing each other tightly to communicate how much you missed him, to remind one another that you were still here.

Suguru’s spot in bed remained untouched, a cold spot that reminded you of the once warm body that lay there. His things never left your house, not even after you and Satoru moved to a new home, there was always a piece of him there. Thinking now, if Satoru had told you that Shoko stored his body somewhere safe you would have spent days, even months searching for it-- you’d bring him back. You had been blessed with the ability to bring those back from the dead, it didn't matter how long they were gone, if the body was well preserved you could bring them back. Playing with death would have its consequences someday, but you would have risked it for Suguru. Your husband wasn’t wrong to hide the truth from you, you couldn’t let Suguru go.

“I would have.” You chuckled bitterly, resting your forehead against Satoru’s, “I still would.”

His hand cupped your cheek, gently wiping away the fat tears that cascaded down your face, “I know.”

“I miss him, Toru.”

“Me too, baby.”

You stared up at the black sky, Kenjaku now had Suguru’s body. It was a harsh reality. While he created chaos as your deceased lover, you were locked away in a box, hoping to be rescued by the other sorcerers. The time of when you’d be free from this hell wasn’t certain nor was it definite, you relied on those outside to save you; you had faith. Once freed, it was inevitable that Satoru would fight against Kenjaku, face the reality of hurting Suguru’s body once more-- something he hadn’t forgiven himself for. “I can bring him back, once we get out… I can bring Sugu back.” You blurted.

Satoru sucked in a breath at your words, it had never left your mind to bring him back. He knew you still thought of the days where it was just the three of you, he did too. The six eyes craved to have his old life back where the raven haired man was in the picture, his gentle smile, his soft voice-- he missed it all. It sounded like a dream come true to have that life back, perhaps the old Suguru would return, at least that’s what he told himself.

His silence was deafening, “Please,” You choked, more tears fell from your eyes, “Please let me bring him back, Toru. We can eat mochi under cherry blossom trees again, just like we used to. You can drag us out of bed on snow days and I won’t complain, I promise. Then he’ll scold you for eating too many sweets and for buying candy behind his back. Please… I-” Your head fell against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, pleading with him over and over again.

He buried his face in your hair once more, holding the back of your head with his hand, gently rocking your bodies together. Satoru wanted that fantasy life more than anything, your promises sounded like honey. It was a life that had once been reality before Suguru disappeared to pursue his own ideals, a life that remained cherished. Satoru cried with you, biting his lip to suppress his whimpers; he knew better. Suguru had changed, too stuck in his ways, his values so engraved in his brain that it was impossible to persuade him differently. His own lovers couldn’t stray him from the society he saw fit, Suguru would return to his old ways-- Satoru would let him, neither of you would deny him that anymore and that terrified him. “We can’t.” His voice weak, the words struggled to come out almost as if he didn’t believe what he was telling you.

Your body shook with each sob that left your lips, each tear staining his navy blazer. Your husband held you tighter, silence loomed overhead as you both cried. In the end the both of you knew that your love for Suguru remained, neither of you have stopped grieving him. “I can’t let him go.” You rasped.

It was Satoru’s turn to sob, cradling your head in his hand. The rocking of your bodies pacified the emotions from causing anxiety, his body was warm— a big protective blanket that you found yourself sinking into further. A sharp pang spread through his heart as he reminisced on the past. It would be selfish to bring him back, to turn the world upside down as Satoru and you finally stood by him. He couldn’t let him go either.

Pulling back from the hug, Satoru cupped his hands on both of your cheeks, he was a selfish man. Two selfish lovers disregarding the pain of the innocent for a love unforgotten.

He had lived for others, sacrificed himself for the greater good. Satoru constantly fought tooth and nail to protect the weak, constantly worrying about you because the weak could not control their cursed energy— curses would continue to be born. But they were only human. The guilt was gnawing at him, his thoughts spiraled out of control the more he looked at his precious wife. Suguru was right, it was your turn to be happy.

“Okay, once we get out of here… let’s get our Sugu back, angel.”

Maybe it was selfish, but neither of you cared anymore. The decision had been made. When the prison realm freed you, and the battle became a gruesome bloody mess. With Kenjaku ripped from Suguru’s body, you did the only thing you knew— resurrect the man that held onto your hearts after all these years.

As he wrapped his arms around you both, holding you close. The smell of cedar wood and jasmine enveloped you like he never left, he held your dizzying body tightly that felt exhausted after using up your cursed energy for the day. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish, the long lost lover had returned, never to be separated from either of you again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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zaynjmsource · 1 month

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Zayn on the cover of Spotify’s New Music Friday AU & NZ and Douceur Pop playlists - 14/03

#zayn malik #what i am #14.03.2024

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keepingupwithzaynmalik · 1 month

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Zayn is featured on Audiomack's Pop Weekly playlist.

#zayn malik #room under the stairs #photoshoots: 2024

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 9 months

Note

Do you think Harry's first album flopping was intentional? They wanted to try out something different to get away from the boyband stigma without thinking of commercial success. They always knew he was coming back to his pop root once they've established him. Everything about his life seems to calculated. I feel like this ever since I heard him saying 'that was so big, if I don't get to do this in that level again then it's ok" like they knew he was going to get bigger than him. His theatre and garage shows were just to show him that he's humble and he's starting from the bottom. I feel like these were all just marketing so that now he can say stuffs like 'things like these don't happen to people like'

They wanted the appearance of organic success.

But honestly, what artist, for his first album, gets a Paul McCartney interview, a Chelsea Handler interview, a Rolling Stones cover, two one-hour BBC Television specials, two BBC Live Lounges, a Today show outdoor concert, an SNL spot, Victoria Secret Fashion Show, BBC Radio One Playlist A placement?

And a Grammy winning producer who had orders to make him sound like Jack White?

They got him Stevie Nicks to play at the legendary Troubadour, for God sakes.

No one would ever get this treatment who the industry wasn’t gunning to succeed.

But Harry still failed.

For Fine Line, they had to snuff out Zayn and Louis, change Harry’s sound entirely, and make Harry strip down to nothing.

Nude Rolling Stone cover. Lots of skin in the magazine. Nude photos in the album. Nude orgy for the music video for the lead single. Singing about cunnilingus. And payola payola payola.

And he still couldn’t get a Grammy in any category that mattered.

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 2 years

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Mixtape

Elain Week Day Four: romance

Obviously I ship our flower girl with Azriel, so here’s another installment of my secret dating modern AU. Enjoy!

Fluff. Modern AU.

Elain sat with her face tipped up toward the sun, her bare feet resting on the front dash in Azriel’s car. The sunroof was open, and the windows were all rolled down, taking full advantage of the balmy, late summer afternoon as they cruised along the empty winding road along the coast.

The sun was warming her tanned skin and the wind was whipping her hair all around. She just closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment, getting lost in the rumble of the car and the warm sun on her exposed arms and legs. As her wandering thoughts brought her back to earth, Azriel’s true crime podcast broke through her bubble of bliss, causing a truly dignified snort to escape her. Glancing over at her boyfriend, she saw his eyes fixed on the road behind his Wayfarers as he listened intently to Episode 200: The Zodiac Killer (Part 3).

Elain held out her hand across the centre console, palm up, and Azriel’s eyes whipped over her face before focusing back onto the winding road. He smiled before threading his fingers with hers, clasping her small hand securely in his.

A laugh escaped her lips.

“As nice as that is, Az, I was after your phone.”

“Oh, I know,” his lips tugged up at the corners causing the dimple in his cheek to pop. Damn he was beautiful. “But this is a really good episode.”

“Azzz,” she half-heartedly groaned. “It’s too nice a day to be listening to murder mysteries! I swear you were a spy in another life.”

“I could’ve caught him,” Azriel huffed, having lamented the same statement many times before with every unsolved case he had made her listen to. She didn’t mind the podcast usually, but the morbid details of mass murders really did hinder the bright mood.

“Of course you could have,” she placated, holding out her palm again.

Fishing his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans, he handed it to her after holding it in front of his face to unlock the screen. “Fine, pick whatever you like.”

Swiping through his apps, she found Spotify and started scrolling through his music. Unsure of what exactly she wanted to listen to, Elain just knew that the vibes of the narrators monotonous voice on the podcast was not it.

As she scrolled through lists and lists of songs, something made her halt, her thumb pausing over the illuminated screen. There, amongst Azriel’s endless archive of songs, was a playlist simply named Elain.

Sliding her eyes in his direction, she noticed he was still focused on the open road, so she clicked into it, hoping she wasn’t violating his privacy in doing so. After all, it was named after her. She hoped.

Clicking on Elain, the playlist that revealed itself turned out to be a collection of songs far longer than she had expected. Azriel was known to listen to a wide range of music, his taste ranging from alternative rock to deep house, Latin pop to old school hip-hop, even classical scores when the mood struck. And what she saw on the little screen was an eclectic compilation of all the above.

Falling For You- Alex Harris… Forever To Go- Chase Rice… My Universe- Coldplay… At My Worst- Pink Sweat$... I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing- Aerosmith… There You Are- Zayn… Heaven- Bryan Adams… Clair De Lune- Debussy… Somebody Else- The 1975…

On and on it went; love songs, make out songs, songs about pining, songs about summer flings, about matches despite imperfection, about yearning and belonging and lust.

Young & Beautiful- Lana Del Ray. She smiled softly at the phone screen. She sang this whilst cleaning her loft every Sunday. For whatever reason, her Sunday cleaning sessions felt a lot less like work when Lana was involved.

Petite Fleur- Jill Barber. She hummed along to this when she stress baked, needing to get her fingers into dough after a long day of studying or when the restaurant had been particularly hectic.

Linger- The Cranberries. He’d twirled her around his apartment to this song only a few weeks ago, after he’d shared the many stories that haunted him from his childhood. The story of how he’d received the scars on his hands. She’d kissed them and told him they were beautiful, just like every other scar that was flecked across his skin.

Team- Lorde. A laugh bubbled from her lips. This song had been playing the first time he’d kissed her, right here in his car after they’d gone on their first date. They’d been making out passionately, parked outside of her apartment building before her cranky neighbour Mrs. Morris had walked by with her elderly dog Ernie and had tsked loudly at their exuberance.

On and on it went; track after track that told the story of them, through Azriel’s eyes. A soundtrack just for them, carefully curated by him.

She gaped at the screen. He’d put together an Elain playlist. Her boyfriend had an Elain playlist. No one had ever done such a thing for her, and she found herself falling a little harder for him. Her insides were melting, and she knew if he happened to glance in her direction in this moment, he would have seen the goofiest grin spread across her face.

She desperately wanted to ask him about it, but she’d let him have it to himself for now. She wouldn’t confront her big scary boyfriend about the cute playlist he’d made for his flower loving girlfriend. It was sweet enough knowing it existed.

Tapping her fingers across the screen, she couldn’t help but think Spotify playlists were just todays answer to the mixtape. She giggled again. He’d be mortified to learn he was the Cliff to her Torrance.

Exiting out of the playlist, she scrolled down to Classic Rock and hit shuffle. As the opening bars of Sweet Child O’ Mine rang out from his speakers, she heard him mutter a quiet fuck yeah. Turning the volume up and reaching over the console to lace his fingers with hers once more, he brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm.

With their intertwined hands coming to rest on her thigh, Elain settled into the passenger seat. She sighed contentedly, wondering how the hell she’d scored such secretly romantic, secret boyfriend.

*******

@elainarcheronweek

tagging: @offtorivendell @fawnandshadows @the-laughing-bubble @swankii-art-teacher @pagemasters @tswaney17 @sakurakittypeach @thefangirlofhp @wingedblooms

#elainarcheronweek2022 #day four: romance #elain archeron #t writes #secret dating modern au #azriel #elriel #acotar #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fic #mixtape #azriel shadowsinger #elain #elriel fluff

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imagines-1directioner · 1 year

Text

Fresh Star - with Zayn Malik e Louis Tomlinson

Situação: ex!namorado!Zayn Malik x ficante!Louis Tomlinson x Leitora

Contagem de palavras: 1654

Pedido de @halls-de-menta: Eu queria tanto a continuação desse meu pedido. Queria que a continuação fosse ela já tendo superado o relacionamento com Zayn seguindo em frente com outro (pode ser o Louis 🥺), aí ela lança uma música (Don’t start now) e a música é sucesso, e ela dá uma entrevista falando da inspiração da música, e do relacionamento com o Louis e de como ele foi importante p ela conseguir passar por isso, e mostra tb como ele faz ela muito feliz. Espero que não tenha ficado muito confuso e dê p entender minha ideia 😬 Já tô morrendo de ansiedade 🥵🥵🫠

N/A: adorei seu pedido, meu bem! gostei bastante de escrever a história, espero que te agrade e que tenha ficado como imaginou. peço desculpas pela demora.. a ask está lotada de ideias e tá difícil de selecionar com tanto contexto inédito. mais uma vez agradeço pelo pedido e fico aguardando seu feedback.

curte e reblogue o post para me ajudar 🫶

- Muito, muito boa tarde pra você que tá chegando agora na BBC Radio 1! Eu sou Nick Grimshaw, e hoje estamos com a maravilhosa, deslumbrante e apaixonante S/N/C! - apesar da entrevista acontecer através do rádio, você esbanja um sorriso largo como agradecimento diante dos elogios que é pego pelas câmeras que gravavam a entrevista para mais tarde ser postada nas redes sociais.

- Vou ficar desacostumada com tantos elogios a cada volta do intervalo.

- Nada menos do que você merece. - Nick dá uma piscadela com o olho direito e sorri, assim como você, retribuindo a simpatia. - Bom, como esse é o bloco final tendo a sua ilustre presença nos studios, quero que você nos conte sobre o estouro de ‘Don’t Star Now’. - comenta animado. - Que música fantástica!

- Ohh, você gostou?

- Se eu gostei? - o radialista questiona retoricamente. - Eu amei! Inclusive peço até desculpas para a equipe mas eu vou deixar meu lado profissional de lado e trazer o fã de S/N/C ao vivo para dizer que ‘Don’t Star Now’ está na minha playlist de divas pop e de longe é um dos melhores single pop em uma escala estratosférica.

- Muito obrigada, Nick.. de coração. - sua alegria era tanta que palavras foram difíceis de serem expressadas diante de tamanha gratidão e orgulho que sentia.

- Agora voltando ao meu trabalho antes que perca meu emprego, como foi que esse fenômeno surgiu? - você e mais alguns membros da rádio e da sua equipe riem pela piadinha feita pelo apresentador.

- Essa canção surgiu de repente.

- As melhores surgem assim.

- Exato! - novamente você ri e Grimshaw sorri. - Eu estava me recuperando de um caso sério de coração partido e Joshua, como meu amigo e fiel escudeiro desde o início da minha carreira, foi passar o dia comigo. Estávamos na sala, bebendo café e jogando conversa fora e de repente ele começa a brincar com as teclas do piano até que, involuntariamente, tocou a melodia inicial da música e no mesmo segundo eu olhei pra ele e disse ‘O que tá fazendo?’ - Nick estava entretido na história, assim como as pessoas no studio e claro, os ouvintes. - Obviamente Josh se assustou, me olhou como se eu estivesse acusando-o e deu de ombros, tipo ‘Não tô fazendo nada!’. - todos, inclusive você riram. A cena daquela criação nunca deixaria sua memória. - Eu pedi para ele repetir e como um bom músico logo se ligou que aquilo foi uma inspiração e tocou novamente. Escutar aquelas simples notas despertaram um gás em mim e trinta minutos depois já tínhamos a letra e boa parte da estrutura musical pronta.

- Do jeito que ela conta parece fácil criar um hit do zero.

- E realmente foi! - mais risadas são ouvidas. - Mas isso é raro, viu? Ainda mais quando estoura tão rápido.

- Você ficou surpresa com a repercussão?

- Demais! - responde dando ênfase. - Foi um susto bom, sabe? - o moreno faz que sim com a cabeça. - A gente soltou a música de madrugada e logo pela manhã já estava no topo dos streamings, e em quatro, cinco dias era número um na Billboard. Algo insano!

- Imagino o quanto foi maravilhoso se deparar com esse acontecimento. Porque essa música é definitivamente um acontecimento!

- Foi e está sendo, Nick! É incrível receber o feedback do público, seja por números de ouvintes, seja pelo engajamento nas redes sociais. Escutar a sua música tocando sem parar é uma sensação tão acolhedora e ao mesmo tempo surreal que até agora eu não me acostumei. - sua risada desacreditada demonstrava facilmente o quão maravilhada você estava em meio a nova atmosfera de coisas boas que estava imersa. - Está sendo um momento incrível e com certeza um dos melhores da minha vida. E eu sou imensamente grata.

- Isso é realmente ótimo de se escutar! - o rapaz diz ao dar um sorriso e em seguida aciona alguns botões da mesa de som, provavelmente para ajustar algum ruído e seguir a entrevista. - Bem, eu não pude deixar de notar que você disse que estava se recuperando de um coração partido..

- Sim. - seu pequeno riso preso nos lábios mostra que sabia o que viria pela frente. Afinal você conhecia a fama de Nick. Ele conseguia tirar “segredos” dos artistas com certa facilidade.

- A pergunta é: essa recuperação tem a ver com o seu último relacionamento com o Zayn Malik? - mais cedo ou mais tarde você sabia que o assunto viria à tona, e antes da entrevista começar você e a equipe tinham ciência de que o seu ex seria pauta em algum momento.

- Muito do que eu vivi nos últimos anos foi retratado na música e até mesmo no álbum que será lançado na semana que vem. E claro que meu relacionamento com o Zayn fez parte de uma parcela bem significativa da minha vida, até porque foram seis anos juntos.

- Wow, não sabia que era tudo isso.

- Pois é. Nos assumimos publicamente dois anos depois desde que começamos a ficar juntos. Foi um relacionamento intenso, em todos os sentidos. Ele foi a pessoa responsável por incentivar minha carreira como cantora já que tinha experiência no ramo, além de estar comigo em momentos importantes da minha vida profissional e pessoal.

- Vocês se conheceram ainda no colégio, certo?

- Sim.. estudamos juntos durante todo o ensino médio. Eu conheci o Zayn antes da One Direction e fomos namorar anos depois. Ele sempre me manteve por perto, tínhamos um vínculo muito forte e que foi extremamente difícil, pelo menos para mim, quebrá-lo. Então sim, eu quis afogar as minhas dores do término no que eu sei fazer de melhor, que é música.

- Você vai querer me matar mas.. tudo o que diz na canção é real? - embora ele estivesse sem graça, a curiosidade do radialista falava mais alto que sua cara de pau.

- Como artista, eu carrego comigo o dom do exagero, Nick. - você entrou na brincadeira de um jeito que não fosse te comprometer.

- Claro!

- Mas quero deixar claro que em nenhum momento Zayn veio cobrar algo depois que terminamos ou ficou incomodado de me ver seguindo em frente com outra pessoa como mencionado na canção. Na verdade não temos mais contato, embora ele frisasse que ainda tínhamos um ao outro. - ao dizer aquilo sua mente te levou a cena dolorosa em que Zayn foi até seu apartamento buscar os últimos pertences após o fim do namoro. - A música não envolve unicamente o meu relacionamento com ele. Eu como uma pobre mortal já sofri muito por amor e fim de namoros. Tenho uma bagagem cheia de sentimentos reprimidos e resolvi depositar na arte musical. Minha história com o Zayn apenas contribuiu para a criação.

- Entendi.. belíssima resposta. - a feição supreendida de Grimshaw fez você gargalhar. Obviamente ele queria uma resposta mais concreta e sabia o quão escorregadia você era para responder perguntas comprometedoras. - E realmente existiu alguém que seus ex’s não quisessem ver você dançando? - questiona fazendo referência ao refrão do seu single e você não segura a risada.

- Felizmente sim!

- E por acaso é o ex parceiro de banda do Zayn?

- Você só está me complicado, Grimshaw..

- São somente perguntas jornalísticas, eu juro. - se fez de desentendido.

- E eu preciso responder?

- Se não for causar problemas.. - você sacode a cabeça negativamente e solta um riso divertido como se estivesse sem saída. E você realmente estava. Seu relacionamento com Louis já havia sido especulado mas nada concreto foi dito, nem por você e nem por ele. Antes mesmo de ir ao studio da BBC Radio 1 vocês conversaram e Tomlinson comentou que por ele tudo bem você mencionar que estavam juntos. Ele te fazia muito bem, te ajudou a superar Zayn e cuidou de você como ninguém havia feito. E embora você quisesse contar que vivia um romance gostoso, o famoso ditado ‘o que ninguém sabe, ninguém estraga’ falou mais alto em sua cabeça.

- OK.. se você quer que eu fale sobre Louis, eu falo.

- Meu Deus! Não imaginei que seria tão fácil!

- Você me deixou sem ter para onde fugir.

- Então os rumores são verdade?

- Nem todos. - você diminui as expectativas com uma risadinha. - Nós não estamos juntos definitivamente, mas Tomlinson esteve comigo após toda a separação e tivemos a oportunidade de nos conhecermos melhor através da irmã dele, que é minha amiga. - você explica. - Louis é um pacote completo da felicidade. - seu sorriso entrega muita coisa. - Ele é uma pessoa incrível, muito querido e respeitoso, além de ter um coração imenso. Foi ele quem resgatou a minha autoestima, o brilho nos olhos, o frio na barriga que infelizmente perdi com o tempo. - por um instante você esqueceu que milhares de pessoas te escutavam, inclusive Louis, e apenas disse o que seu coração mandou. Profundo e certeiro. Você gostaria que ambos os rapazes soubessem como você se sentia de verdade. - Enfim, ele se tornou alguém especial na minha vida que eu espero carregar comigo pra sempre.

- Fico muito feliz por você, querida! - Nick pega suas mãos com delicadeza e acaricia de modo fofo. - Quero te agradecer pela disponibilidade de estar conosco hoje. Foi um imenso prazer te receber!

- Eu que agradeço pelo convite.

- Amei de verdade o nosso papo, e espero você com o Louis na próxima!

- Eu ainda te mato, Nick.. - seu riso acompanhado da frase fez com que o apresentador fizesse uma carreta travessa e logo fugisse do assunto.

- Fiquem agora com o hit do século: ‘Don’t Star Now’ da inesquecível e talentosíssima S/N/C! - a batida da sua música começa e sua participação no programa foi encerrada. Você e sua equipe agradeceram a rádio e depois de quinze minutos já estavam no carro à caminho da última reunião sobre o lançamento do álbum.

Já no escritório, você sente seu celular tremer e sorri ao ver quem havia te mandado mensagem.

O sorriso não sumiu do seus lábios e por meros segundos, olhando a imensidão do céu azulado pela janela da sala de reuniões você agradece Zayn pelo término. Caso contrário você não teria Louis em seu caminho. _________________________________________

Feedbacks são sempre bem-vindos e de extrema importância para quem escreve. Se possível, não esqueça de deixar um comentário sobre o conteúdo lido acima na ask! Adoraria saber o que achou :)

xoxo

#ju #imagine1d #zayn malik #imagine cute #imagine louis tomlinson

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