ʎon ɔɐu'ʇ sʇod ɯǝ ןoʌıuƃ ɯʎsǝןɟ
20+
i listen to songs and proceed to imagine a million scenarios that will never make it out of my head
but i try to write either way
For his birthday, you write Sylus a letter in your mother tongue, the one language he has yet to learn. You do not fully know what compels you toward it, only that the decision settles into you with quiet certainty, as though your heart had chosen long before your mind could catch up.
Perhaps it begins with something trivial. An idle moment. Luke and Kieran, sprawled across a room, arguing with the kind of conviction only the untested can afford—debating which language in the world carries the greatest capacity for love. French, Luke insists, with all the confidence of someone who has never truly been in love. Italian, Kieran counters, louder, as though volume alone could make it true.
Well, you disagree with them both.
And maybe it is bias. Maybe it is the way your childhood was steeped in it, the way songs and poetry and quiet confessions have always existed for you in the same breath. But you know—know in the way one knows the shape of their own heartbeat—that your mother tongue, in its purest form, does not merely speak love. It aches with it. It lingers. It holds longing the way cupped hands hold water, careful and reverent and trembling.
So you decide, with a kind of quiet resolve that feels soft yet stubborn blooming in your chest, that you will prove it.
You sit down to write, and the words do not come easily at first. Not because you lack them, but because there are too many. The language does not offer you simple things; it offers you depth, offers you softness layered over sharp edges, offers you metaphors that feel too intimate to survive being written down. And yet, you try. You gather every fragile, fleeting feeling you have ever tucked away for him and thread them into sentences that feel almost too beautiful to bear.
You do not translate it.
You do not soften it.
You leave it exactly as it is; raw, intricate, and entirely yours.
And then, you give it to him.
What follows is not immediate understanding. There is no easy unraveling, no neat conclusion. Instead, Sylus spends the entirety of his birthday week with your letter in his hands, chasing meaning through unfamiliar script, tracing each word as though it might reveal itself if he is patient enough. He asks questions, of course—subtle ones, careful ones—but you never give him everything. You let him work for it. You let him feel the weight of not knowing, the ache of reaching for something just out of grasp.
And somewhere along the way, it changes him.
And you realize, watching him, that you may have proven your point after all.
Because this language has not just become something he wants to understand.
It has become something he refuses to let go of.
Something he is beginning to love.
notes: the inspo for this (found it in the deep depths of pinterest doomscrolling)
حينما أغرق في عينيك عيني
When I sink my eye into your eyes
ألمح الفجر العميقا
I catch a glimpse of a deep dawn
وأرى الأمس العتيقا
And I see ancient yesterday
وأرى ما لست أدري
And I see what I do not know
وأحس الكون يجري
And I feel the universe flowing
بين عينيك وعيني
Between my eye and yours
HIIIIIII meliora !! i wanted to tell u that ever since last year ur fic ishq mubarak left a big impact on me. reading it was like watching a bollywood movie squeezed between my cousins on the couch. i lost it when rafayel put henna on desi!reader. ugh there's butterflies in my stomach just thinking about it. i love it so much you dont even know . it has a super special place in my heart and...dare i say...if it was a movie, itd probably be as much of a favourite of mine as ye jawaani hae deewani and coming from me thats a LOT (i. love that film. basic i know im sorry). stop i know itd have a banger soundtrack too (although its literally based on a song OK BUT YKWIM) omg so sorry for rambling. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! bestest wishes <333 take care of urself ok!!
-snowypi
Every time someone tells me that one of my fics left a big impact on them, I feel my heart BALLOONING. Like bursting out of my chest ballooning😭
I'm so proud of my baby, it's THE fic where I put my literal soul into, so I get so giddy to see people absolutely loving it but comparing it to YE JAWAANI HAI DEEWANI?? THAT'S MY FAVORITE MOVIE TOO OMG! THAT SUCH HIGH PRAISE. IT'S NOT BASIC AT ALLLLLLL💖 SOMETHING ABOUT FINDING AND FALLING IN LOVE THROUGHOUT A DESI WEDDING IS LITERALLY MY BIGGEST FANTASY 🥹 and with Rafayel it's just magnified🫠
It'd def have a banger soundtrack, I even made a playlist of songs(desi) when I was writing it.
Ishq Mubarak (obv cuz it's the title), Mann mera, Dil Diyan Gallan, Maand, Jab tak, acc EACH AND EVERY SONG BY ARMAAN MALIK and the list goes on.
Don't be sorry at all! I love when people ramble about something that they feel strongly for! It's what humans are made for💖
Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday 🥺 you made my day!
For his birthday, you write Sylus a letter in your mother tongue, the one language he has yet to learn. You do not fully know what compels you toward it, only that the decision settles into you with quiet certainty, as though your heart had chosen long before your mind could catch up.
Perhaps it begins with something trivial. An idle moment. Luke and Kieran, sprawled across a room, arguing with the kind of conviction only the untested can afford—debating which language in the world carries the greatest capacity for love. French, Luke insists, with all the confidence of someone who has never truly been in love. Italian, Kieran counters, louder, as though volume alone could make it true.
Well, you disagree with them both.
And maybe it is bias. Maybe it is the way your childhood was steeped in it, the way songs and poetry and quiet confessions have always existed for you in the same breath. But you know—know in the way one knows the shape of their own heartbeat—that your mother tongue, in its purest form, does not merely speak love. It aches with it. It lingers. It holds longing the way cupped hands hold water, careful and reverent and trembling.
So you decide, with a kind of quiet resolve that feels soft yet stubborn blooming in your chest, that you will prove it.
You sit down to write, and the words do not come easily at first. Not because you lack them, but because there are too many. The language does not offer you simple things; it offers you depth, offers you softness layered over sharp edges, offers you metaphors that feel too intimate to survive being written down. And yet, you try. You gather every fragile, fleeting feeling you have ever tucked away for him and thread them into sentences that feel almost too beautiful to bear.
You do not translate it.
You do not soften it.
You leave it exactly as it is; raw, intricate, and entirely yours.
And then, you give it to him.
What follows is not immediate understanding. There is no easy unraveling, no neat conclusion. Instead, Sylus spends the entirety of his birthday week with your letter in his hands, chasing meaning through unfamiliar script, tracing each word as though it might reveal itself if he is patient enough. He asks questions, of course—subtle ones, careful ones—but you never give him everything. You let him work for it. You let him feel the weight of not knowing, the ache of reaching for something just out of grasp.
And somewhere along the way, it changes him.
And you realize, watching him, that you may have proven your point after all.
Because this language has not just become something he wants to understand.
It has become something he refuses to let go of.
Something he is beginning to love.
notes: the inspo for this (found it in the deep depths of pinterest doomscrolling)
حينما أغرق في عينيك عيني
When I sink my eye into your eyes
ألمح الفجر العميقا
I catch a glimpse of a deep dawn
وأرى الأمس العتيقا
And I see ancient yesterday
وأرى ما لست أدري
And I see what I do not know
وأحس الكون يجري
And I feel the universe flowing
بين عينيك وعيني
Between my eye and yours
please heed all of the authors' content warnings & check out their other amazing works too! show them some love; be kind!
⋆.˚𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗/ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥ᯓ°❀.
Best Part by @atzeroo
Dandelions by @blessdunrest
Learned by Heart by @deepspacenova
ruin me softly. by @lads-kitten
summer evenings with zayne by @mythblossoms
untitled by @shaiyasstuff
untitled by @souliloqui
Impact Factor by @syneilesis
only yours by @yukimmori
⋆.˚ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜ᯓ°❀.
I See You by @deepspacenova
lads zombie apocalypse sitcom by @luvinbloom (series with all LIs)
jealousy killed the cat by @shaiyasstuff
⋆.˚𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕤𝕥ᯓ°❀.
A haunting by @asiatic-apple
thought we built a dynasty that heaven couldn't shake by @cardinal-writes (mdni; suggestive)
Does he know you call me when he sleeps? by @colonelkaboom (zaynexreaderxcaleb)
Let Me Go by @gardenialily (series ongoing)
Medieval Court Physician!Zayne by @leighsartworks216
silk sheets by @mythblossoms (mdni)
You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) by @orphicmeliora (series)
the day bleeds into nightfall by @starmocha
letters by @thewrldx
thawing embrace by @vesearlee
⋆.˚𝕄𝔻ℕ𝕀 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥ᯓ°❀.
Absolute Zeal by @bakubrattt (series; mdni)
Too Close Not to Touch by @deepspacenova (mdni)
exclusive tutorial by @frostedfragments (mdni)
winter break by @humanjarvis (mdni)
dipsomaniac by @princesspeachi3 (mdni)
reflex arc by @the-cows-came-home (mdni; on ao3)
foggy windows! by @thewrldx (mdni)
snowcrow when they take you to paris by @thewrldx (mdni; zaynexreaderxsylus)
Anatomy Lesson by @zaynessbeloved (mdni)
⋆.˚𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕔ᯓ°❀.
snowfall by @blessdunrest (zaynexreaderxsylus; suggestive)
he leaves you out like a penny in the rain by @icarusignite (series)
Dead on Paper by @iraot (mdni)
What Doesn't Kill Me, Watches Me. by @maddamoiselle (series; horror with dark romance)
Titration by @mylifedoesntexist (series ongoing)
infect -> zayne by @mythblossoms (mdni)
about you by @snowyfishes
love, marriage, and a baby carriage by @starmocha (mdni)
A Duke's Silence by @zaynessbeloved (series; mdni)
It was always you (and us) by @zaynessbeloved (series ongoing; mdni; zaynexreaderxcaleb)
ginny's note: a big shoutout to @blessdunrest, @deepspacenova, @mythblossoms, and my other amazing moots who gave me recs!! like the other lists, this is meant to grow so please let me know if i should add any additional fics :3
hey there i just want to let you know that you wield angst so well. I refuse to touch an angst fic you made last year in july. i cant get through the first part without crying, and you are so talented for that.
OMG😭 thank youuuuuuuu sm and I'm sorry for making you cry😭
ChlorineAtom! Gojo x HydrogenAtom! Reader x Hydroxide! Sukuna
Wc: 2k
Synopsis: You and Satoru had everything you both ever wanted in a partner, together, forming the strongest of bonds… Or so you thought. That was until a certain base came along to destabilize things <3
Warnings: CRACK!!!, angst, proximity, suggestive, slighttttt dubcon/noncon (Sukuna steals a smooch lol), yandere! Sukuna if you squint, boyfailure! Gojo lamo, doomed soulmates, tried my best for scientific accuracy some changes made for fiction, Strong Chemicals: Do Not Waft
A/n: It’s my biochem class and I decide the concept review method
Thank you to @thecutestgrotto and @lunaridae for the dividers!
Life was incredibly rough for ChlorineAtom!Gojo before he met you. Being a lone solute swimming around the walls of his equally measured glass confine came with its challenges. Surrounded by what seemed to be fragments of himself, everywhere, no matter where he went. He could never escape the loneliness, the monotony. It was a dreadful feeling that pooled endlessly within him. Wasting away with no purpose, just a complete vacancy. If his existence had any meaning, he was lost to what it was.
However, coming from the top right of the periodic table had its perks, he was one of the strongest halogens around afterall, but what good was that if he was just short of perfection?
Seven.
He had exactly seven valence electrons in his outer shell. If he were really something to marvel at, he'd have obeyed the octet rule. Only the most stable, noble gasses, had the full eight. What was the point of even trying when he couldn’t accomplish anything by his lonesome?
His power buzzed and crackled with energy, infuriating, but he knew he couldn't act, not yet at least. Despite the solitude and seemingly innumerable minutes to self reflect he was still reactive. Any atom worth their salt knew potential interactions could lead to radioactive decay. Unfortunately he’d have to wait. For what exactly? He didn’t quite know yet.
It was just another day merely existing heavily in his sodium chloride solution until suddenly, a radiant light poured in from the heavenly fume hood above, and in came a surge of concentrated sulfuric acid.
Without warning, the ground erupted into a feverish flame. It was an immense heat generating a type of energy that made him want to – no, need to move. He couldn’t do so in his current state and quickly he sublimated his granulated form to slip into something more entropically favorable. This must be a sign as he began to ascend into the clear plastic tubing. It was during the twisting and turning of travel did he realize-
he wasn't alone…
There you were. Your body, delicate and gaseous, was ethereally obscured by the pale fog you were emitting.
Gorgeous, just beautiful.
There was no other way to encapsulate how the light shifted through your fluid motions and reflected off your particles, teasing him, tantalizing him. He dreamt of you condensing your lower half for him.
Unbeknownst to you, Gojo knew you’d be together from the second he saw you. Meanwhile, you were fighting your way through the loops and dips of the apparatus. Having no idea the effect you were having on this haughty halogen.
How disorienting! Previously laying dormant in your bottle at peace, when you were rudely thrown into a reaction and forced to vaporize.
Perhaps all that outrage would be best to subside. If you were feeling any discomfort, all of that changed irrevocably when you finally met his cerulean voltaic gaze. At once, you both rushed to each other at top speed. You couldn’t help it, his acrid bleach-like aroma enveloped you and his partial negative charge was so damn alluring. You just had to have him.
Truly it was no surprise you both bonded instantly.
The nature of your connection with Satoru Gojo was inhuman, chemical, to be exact. Your mutual need and desire for one another surpassed all quaint sentient and social systems put into place by “humans” and “social norms”. There would be no introductions, no slow dreamy dates, and definitely no extravagant ceremonies that end in tight ties and elaborate dresses pooled on the floor.
Nothing but the way your bodies would be bound to each other. Both inseparable from the moment of contact. Belonging to one another, and both of you wouldn't have it any other way.
“Ngh – c’mon pretty baby just a little more. You’re doing so good for me. Don’t worry about anything else I’ve got you, I’ve got you”, he’d huff rough and slow, words smoldering your senses as he stuffed your nucleus full of electrons, rutting them in over and over again.
Like the true chlorine he is, he never failed on what he promised you. He always held you firm and close, unyielding. You were his treasure, his positivity, cradling you like you were only ever his to behold.
He was just so big and oxidative in every way you couldn’t help but find sanctuary in his embrace. Despite his size, he never crowded you, never cruelly tugged you too tight. Sure you’d have your fun together, but despite his strength there was tenderness, peace in the proximity.
You were everything he could have ever dreamed of, this was finally it: the god-like titans from above finally bestowed a divine gift to him. No neural tissue aside, he’d be the biggest idiot to ever let you go.
You were afterall, his HydrogenAtom! His perfect compliment. What he lacked in electrons you supplemented him with your single one. Noble gases be damned because your configuration together was sublime. Together you both reached the octet formation.
It made you quite emotional to think about it, what did you ever do to deserve such love, such stability? You always doubted yourself, coming from a place like the top left of the periodic table had other other atoms ostracizing you for only ever having a 1s orbital, calling you worthless and weak. As if you had any control over that. Your petite orbital only made room for two electrons and even then, you could only muster up the strength to carry a measly one, completely incapable of ever filling your valence shell alone.
None of it mattered to you anymore.
Especially when Satoru saw you as the atom you were always meant to be.
“Hey, look at me glucose,” the little name he’d coined for you reverberated off the translucent flask. Slowly, deliberately, running through your aqueous form, coaxing you to interact. Hesitantly, you turn in his hold to face him. A boyish grin radiates off his face so infectious, that even his eyes seem to be laughing – fondness. “Who cares about how many orbitals you have? You’re so perfect and you don’t even realize the power you have. So can you please stop being mean to my baby, my hydrogen,” you can’t even control yourself when you nuzzle yourself deeper into him, the feeling electrifying, perfectly content to stay there forever.
How could you not share the only electron you have when he's been exactly the kind of atom you needed? Together you both formed a bond so covalent, polar, and sacred it made even the most charged ions blush. Perched in his hold, you both condensed into a new form, something, highly corrosive, liquid-smooth, HydrochloricAcid!
From that point on, nothing stood in your path together, love so acidic bubbles fluttered around you both in a flurry. Anything that opposed you both would melt and sizzle beneath your mordant gazes, insignificant. Life needed nothing else, just the two of you. Anything else should just blister and disassociate for all you cared.
That was until you and Satoru were placed into a new, spacious, larger area. Whatever, you had moved lab equipment so often it never mattered to you. As long as you were with him.
You should’ve noticed something was off when nothing was offered as fodder to burn. That's when it happened…
The expansive fume hood opened with a whirring swoosh, and in seconds, sodium hydroxide splashed into your corrosive home. Instantly the temperature rose uncomfortably. Everything shook violently, blurring your vision and destabilizing everything. Horror spiked through you. You didn’t even know the temperature could even get this hot. You couldn’t focus, desperately, you tried to attach yourself to Satoru with your electron, your only hope. You cursed yourself silently for only being able to do this much with just a single electron, but you had to try. Panicked and shaky as you were starting to lose your grip on the bond.
Your bond–
“Don’t worry sweets, I’m the strongest, remember? I’m not lettin’ ya go. Ever. It’ll be just the two of us again when this is all over. I’ve got you, even if it's just me holding us together,” his tone was earnest but you could sense the sliver of doubt in his voice. Even he was starting to struggle. It made something sickening and elusive coil up and through your nucleus despite your frantic need for comfort and stability.
The battle seemed to have ended before it even started once Hydroxide! Sukuna languidly appeared parting the steaming fizz, and entering like the devil himself.
“Strongest huh?” Sukuna’s voice carried a mocking lilt to it–an easiness that came from the confidence of countless chemical reactions won. His presence rattled you. You thought Satoru was large but you couldn’t believe the bulky base in front of you. Devouring you whole with just his eyes, wretched grin contorted the planes of his face.
“I’d get out of here if I were you, unless you want me to decompose you right here and repel you off? Hm? Makes no difference to me,” Satoru’s smile captured equal aggression, challenging. His eyes were fixed on Sukuna while his grip around you tightened impossibly harder.
“Tch, all talk for someone who can’t even electronegatively attract for shit. I’m going to enjoy this,” not one to mince words, he lunged, faster than instinct. Winding back an attack–
Malevolent Sodium.
Wordlessly Satoru moves his body to shield yours.
Sukuna wasn't aiming for you anyway.
The impact connects with Satoru and it’s excruciating. Completely bombarded by the sheer force of the attack and he feels the palpable increase of the pH, feeling his own Pka value change. He was already struggling to hold you with the escalating temperature, the vibrations wearing down on him. However, the sodium latched on to him, unexpectedly, and dragged him down, deep under.
Your bond was cleaved.
Leaving you exposed and trembling, you try to dive down further into the solution, to find satoru, your love. Sukuna however, doesn’t even entertain the thought as he snatches you up in one fluid motion, pressing you firmly onto his liquid form.
You couldn’t move, your motions, sluggish and heavy. This feeling is spread throughout your incorporeal matter as you are adhered to him. Bound. He took so much more of you than you'd realized. Writhing and struggling, you physically couldn’t seem to break free. Is this what strong electronegativity feels like? Why do you feel so full? So complete? Why does it feel so… The guilt bites down, snapping you out of it.
“No! You can’t do this – get away from me, I’m with Satoru- Mnh!” you divert your eyes in defiance since the effect he had on you caused your particles to feel insurmountably heavy.
“None of that protium,” He grabs you almost enough to hurt, forcing you to eye him. There’s an intense craving in his scrutiny. His comment addressed you as your simplest form, stripping you completely bare. It shuts you up. “You’re lucky I tolerate that mouth on you,” leaning in leering, he overwhelms your mouth with his, wet and heavy, memorizing each ridge and groove. When he finally breaks, it’s with a resounding pop. His tongue dragged over his lips in satisfaction.
“You monster, you brute!” Hot watery tears welled up and began to spill, leaking out into the aqueous solution. Sukuna made no attempt to swipe them away.
“That’s right brat, let it out. We’re neutralizing the hell out of this pH – you’ll learn to take it eventually.”
Deprotonation
It felt like a death sentence to any acid. You were his baby. The only one he ever wanted to bond to for eternity. Now brutally stripped away in an irreversible exergonic reaction.
Negative was beyond an understatement to what Satoru was feeling, but that didn't negate the charge that loomed over him. Useless, pathetic, he couldn't even hold on to what mattered the most. Now he lay at the bottom of the beaker, a spectator, bound to an insignificant sodium when all he yearns for is you.
In the beginning he believed to be able to fight him off, but as time went on that vile titration that Sukuna came from didn't stop, just slowly settling to a steady drip. Even so, the solution would become undeniably basic, influencing his presence, his hold over you.
Dammit if there was just more of himself out there he could have followed through on his promise.
No.
He will. One day. No matter how long it takes, he will find a way to covalently bond with you again. Anything to feel your bubbly self come back to him. As for now, he’ll just have to bang on the sides of the beaker hoping to the gods draped in white coats up above make his presence more abundant. To have you in his embrace and together, you’ll be able to neutralize that bastard for good.
ookkkkkkk starting an impromptu "share any favorite lines you wrote or art you made in the past year!" because I could certainly use a reminder now and then :D
mine's this:
You edge the divide of whimsy and disaster with each step you take, tracing the lines of his jaw with a manicured fingernail. “A little birdie told me you missed me.” He hates how your words bloom into song. Already his composure is slipping, already his hand is lacing through yours, already his cheek is chasing your warmth (x)
Feel free to share lines you wrote, art you drew/painted, video edits you made, photos you took that inspired you or you found memorable, crochet/knitting projects, pins/merch you may have made, music playlists you curated (or music you created!), ceramics, origami, other fabric/textiles projects, dioramas, moodboards, etc. The world is your oyster. Tagging a few peeps below to start, feel free to tag as many lovelies as you would like ^_^
This isn't fandom specific btw. I'm just a nosy lady that likes seeing people make cool stuff they're passionate about.
no pressure tag list: @unknown-ends @sysjuicebox @deepspacenova @leighsartworks216 @thatweirdomidas @abyssyby @mythblossoms @terriblesoup @salemrph @bbnosylus @ink-and-nebula @fiendcide @souliloqui @gardenialily @starryeyed-apple @lowkeylaufeysons @sylure @heartofafiend @healmydesires @thechaoticarchivist @reilemon @rcvcgers @velaenam @vorsdany @starry-seafoam @cardinal-writes @carmelves @mylifedoesntexist @syneilesis @colonelkaboom @soursugarbomb @sinnabarmoth @maimaily @astheskycries @lunarify @irandial @loveanddeephistory @always-just-red @naomihatake @orphicmeliora @lads-kitten @dissociativewriter @guldlngstar & anyone else who would like to participate!
Thank you so much, @blessdunrest! I really love your tag clubs, its such a fun way to connect with people! below are some of my fav quotes:
You should have locked the damn drawer.
You don’t even know what made you check—but something prickled at the back of your neck the moment you stepped into your apartment. Like something sacred had been disturbed. And when you see the box in Caleb’s hands, your heart stops cold.
No. No.
His head lifts as the door shuts behind you.
And your world implodes.
He’s seated on your couch like he’s carved from stone, the soft golden lamp beside him casting long shadows across the muscles in his jaw and the heartbreak in his eyes.
He’s holding your soul in his hands.
The letters—dozens of them, hundreds, years of ink and agony and lust and grief—you recognize the crooked childhood handwriting, the shaky, angry teenage confessions, the flowing script of your adult longing. Pages of you. Laid bare. (x)
He feared the day you would look at him and see not a man who had waited for you, but one who had wasted you. Who had let years slip by in silence, who had been too afraid, too cautious, too restrained. He feared the disgust in your eyes more than any scalpel, more than death itself. Because if you ever looked at him like that—like he was nothing but another cage—you would undo him completely.
And yet, for all his fear, his love had not waned. It was still there, terrible and humbling, clawing at him with a hunger he could not erase. (x)
i'm not really sure who to tag but if you see this and want to join, don't hesitate!
currently re-reading letters unsent again. i really do wonder on how the fic will go if it is zayne x non mc. just a thought. any ideas?
Oh it would go very differently.
In Letters Unsent Caleb and reader only worked because Caleb is a stalker. That first meeting of them in the beginning? Caleb staged that whole thing. Reader had her suspicions but ignored them because she loves him too much. (I think I alluded to it when Caleb got upset he couldn't reach reader on her mission.) Also he was snooping through her things when he found the letters.
With Zayne, it wouldn't work. Reader resigned herself to her unrequited feelings. She would not seek him out or confront him. Zayne has a tendency to sabotage himself. And his relationships by extension. He would take it as a self imposed punishment believing he doesn't deserve her love. With no one reaching out, the relationship would not exist.
But it might work out if the roles were reversed. Zayne having unrequited feelings and writing letters to reader but not sending them. However one letter gets mixed with his mails or something and gets sent to reader. It's upto reader to approach him or not.
This would be more slowburn ig—both of them reminiscing about their past days if we're going with Letters Unsent theme of them being classmates + childhood friends, might get a bit angsty (ok who am I kidding, it'd be a lot angsty) but more on the wholesome side whereas with Caleb it was slightly implied mature/dark vibe. I just see Zayne as a very wholesome character.
It is interesting to think about. The possibilities are endless.
You are trapped in a lifetime long since lived and passed. You try not to think of it too much because it hurts and it hurts and it hurts—but you are trapped. Trapped in this illusion of your greatest longing and your worst nightmare. And you can’t stop thinking about it. It claws at your mind, suffocating, relentless. The more you try to pull away, the more you feel yourself sinking into it.
You’re starting to believe this isn’t an illusion at all.
Perhaps this life never ended. Perhaps the deaths you witnessed were the illusions. Perhaps your entire existence since then was the lie. The thought is like ice lodged deep in your chest.
What are you?
You look down at yourself, but you see nothing. Your body doesn’t exist. It’s not real. You look around, but the world is nothing but washed-out grays and blacks and whites.
So, like those shades of gray, white, and black, you float.
There is a lake before you, impossibly still, like a sheet of glass stretched out over endless nothingness. You step closer, because what else is there to do? The reflection should be yours. You should see yourself.
But there’s nothing.
Just the red, red, red where your eyes are supposed to be.
The only color in a world of gray.
It’s wrong. Everything about this is wrong. Your body feels like it’s being torn apart at the seams, pieces of you crumbling into dust. You try to hold on to something—anything—but your fingers are smoke, your skin is air, and your mind is splintering.
What are you?
The question pulses in your chest like a wound torn open, bleeding out your sanity, your hope.
Who are you?
A shinobi. A daughter. A killer. A friend.
You can hear them—faint echoes buried beneath the crushing silence. Laughter threaded with affection, quiet conversations shared in the dead of night, the weight of hands resting on your shoulders. Shadows of voices you once knew.
But they’re fading. Slipping through your fingers like water.
The memories tangle, warp, disintegrate. All you can feel is the pain—the searing, crushing pain of losing everything. Again and again and again.
What are you?
You try to scream, but there’s no sound. The silence is endless, pressing down on you with the weight of a thousand nightmares.
Your eyes burn.
The red seeps into the lake, staining the water like spilled ink. Tendrils of crimson snake through the stillness, twisting into jagged lines that fracture the mirror’s surface.
The lake erupts.
Hands made of dark water shoot up and latch onto your wrists, ice-cold and unyielding. They yank you down, dragging you toward the water’s surface. You struggle, gasping as your face is pulled closer, as the reflection of your own hollow, bleeding eyes fills your vision.
And then, just for a moment, you see yourself.
Broken.
Torn apart.
But real.
The scream tears itself from your throat, raw and anguished, but the water swallows the sound. The hands drag you under, and the reflection shatters into a thousand pieces before your eyes.
You’re drowning.
Drowning in the blood of your own guilt.
This isn’t real.
The thought sparks like a match in the darkness. Your body stiffens, struggling harder, desperate to break free. The pressure on your chest intensifies, crushing your ribs, suffocating you—
But the moment the thought takes root, it’s gone.
Replaced by another memory.
Another illusion.
And you’re left gasping on the bank of the lake once more, your hands empty, your reflection staring back with hollow, bleeding eyes.
Hi! I just stumbled in your fics and I really LOVE IT. I just want to ask if you're still writing the Hiraeth fic? It's written so well I binge read it for 3 hours 😩
I'm glad you thought its well written, I've been wanting to come back to hiraeth but I thought that it had lost readers 😔
Tho JJK Season 3 has brought back some inspiration, I think I might even start writing for this fic again
Synopsis: A decade later, Gojo has finally caught up with you. Weddings take a lot of planning.
Word Count: 8.6k
(Warnings: flashbacks to gore, not healthy trauma coping, thats all tho! pretty wholesome compared to last time)
Some things about him had changed within a decade, while others stayed the same.
Even taller than you last saw him. His hair has been styled, no longer ivory chaos. You can't see a single blemish or mark despite the decade of fighting curses. He's as flawless as the first day you met him. No glasses; the entirety of his blue keeps you still.
You've seen this Satoru before: Suguru's memories, with glassy eyes, ruffled ivory hair, and an empty expression. Seeing such beauty yourself when you're standing right in front of him, it's breathtaking.
Even the lights of Tokyo couldn't compare to him.
You say nothing. You can't. Your mouth is dry and pointless. You're not even sure where to even begin. In front of a God, your insecurities pile up all over again. Is he disappointed by you? How could you explain everything that you put him through? Your mouth opens, you think you're about to speak: an apology, a plea, anything-
"—You're late!"
His hands reach up to squish your cheeks together. It was so unexpected, you squeak.
And Gojo Satoru is pouting.
It's a wave. The ocean of anxiety, guilt, and fear crashes into the shore. You feel nothing but indignant rage at the brat who clearly hadn't matured one damn bit.
"I'm not late!" You hiss back. "If anything, you're the one who's late. I was—"
You're cut off by his laugh, light and happy.
He isn't offended by your outburst; he's overjoyed about it. His cheeks are dabbed with pink, and his lips are so wide that he's showing his teeth. Your anger wanes when he pulls you into his chest, arms circling around you. You can smell his cologne when he buries his face into your hair.
"There you are. Finally." He melts into you like butter. "I missed you, Greeny."
His voice is soft, quiet, and sincere. You can't do anything but hug him back, allowing him to sink.
"I missed you, too." You whisper.
He hums. Apart from the wind, it's quiet. He's clinging onto you as though he's afraid once he lets go, you'll disappear forever. His behavior is justified. You were constantly meddling with his life before whisking away. Just this once, you allow him to keep you within his reach, letting the cat catch the canary.
"This is sweet 'n all. But we're actually getting late." He mutters. "Also, we gotta do something about your clothes."
"Hm?"
One moment, you're atop the Tokyo Skybridge; the next, you're standing in an upscale boutique.
Satoru skips away from you. Meanwhile, you're frozen, brain scrambling to catch up with what happened. Teleport. He can teleport now.
"Mr. Gojo, sir." A voice calls. An older woman smiles at him.
He gives her a casual wave before gesturing over to you. "Mind giving this one a dress? It's a black-tie event. We don't have a budget."
The woman turns to you with a smile. "Of course, sir."
What?
Dazed, you pliantly follow the woman into the back of the boutique. Her hold on you is gentle as she ushers you through the hall with one hand on either side of your shoulders. When you look back, Satoru is waving with a wide grin. The door shuts behind you.
"Do you have any preferences?"
You turn back to the woman. She's still smiling. You can't tell if it's genuine or customer service. Perhaps both.
Did Satoru not like what you're wearing? When you look down, it makes sense. Your time on the tower wasn't kind to your hair, not to mention your clothes. This morning, you'd just thrown on the first thing you saw.
This morning. That felt like centuries ago.
She's still waiting. You give a trepid smile.
"Anything," you say, "anything as long as it's cheap. I'm not exactly swimming in cash."
She gives a confused look. "Oh, but Mr. Gojo is paying, isn't he?"
Was he? You had no idea what was happening, much less what he had just said. She returns to her usual smile.
"If you have nothing in mind, let's see here..."
Some time later, your usual clothing was removed and replaced by something satin and long. It was a pretty dress that fell right to your feet. A set of women also flitted in and worked on your hair and face, putting everything back in your face so that you looked more human and less cryptid.
"What do you think?" She asks, looking at you through that mirror.
Pretty, you looked pretty. But when you looked closer, no amount of make-up could remove that look in your eyes.
When you step back out, Satoru is waiting with a tapping foot.
"Finally!" He exclaims, standing up. He doesn't acknowledge the dress, probably because he's seen himself in better. "Thanks, Hana. Okay, let's go."
"Go?" You prod. "Go where? You—you still haven't told me what you're even doing—"
It's no use. He grabs your hand, instantly warping you away from the boutique.
You're outside. There's people everywhere. In the distance, you can see a crystal glass dome. The sun was still in the sky, which was strange because you remembered watching a sunset not too long ago, unless you weren't in Japan anymore. To prove it to yourself, you check your phone location. Yakima, Washington. What the fuck.
Was this some type of torture, him flitting you from continent to continent, all in a ploy to punish you for something? You give him a pleading look.
"Just tell me what's going on—"
"Nuh-uh." He grins. "It's a surprise! Besides, you'll figure it out soon enough. Now, I gotta' go. Stay here, be good, and find the panda!"
And then he's gone.
You always knew he was insane, but this is ridiculous, even for him. To leave you in the middle of nowhere, that asshole.
There is no one you recognize in the crowd, but they are all walking towards the dome, so you meekly follow. What did he say? Find the panda? It had to be a metaphor of some kind, or perhaps there was a panda statue you needed to wait under.
And then you see a panda on two legs walking and talking with a group of teenagers.
Seriously, what else did you expect?
Feeling like you've just aged five years, you approach the group. Including the animal, there's five. They all look like 14-16 years old. You feel like you're in high school all over again when they glance over at you. The girl looks particularly unimpressed.
"Hi." You look at the panda. Maybe it's a really good costume because no one else looks shocked. "Satoru said I should find you...?"
One of them seems to get the code. The one with black hair and puppy eyes perks up.
"Ah! Are you 'Greeny'?" Did he tell everyone about that nickname? Didn't you tell him it was supposed to be a secret? Though, it doesn't really matter anymore.
"It's not my actual name." You say before introducing yourself.
He gives a nod. "Okkutso Yuta." He bows. What a polite kid. "This is my friend, Inumaki Toge."
The kid with half his face under his scarf gives a wave. You smile.
"Just Maki." The girl steps in before she gives you a once-over. "I like your dress."
"Oh, thank you!" You say happily, "I love yours as well!"
She looks away, but you have a feeling she has a hard time taking compliments.
"I'm Panda." The panda fucking says, and no, it isn't a costume, but you're too tired to ask at this point. "Nice to finally meet you."
When the final kid says nothing, Panda reaches over and wraps a furry hand around his shoulder.
"And this is Fushiguro Megumi! He's shy." Panda says cheerily. The boy flusters under his weight.
"Get off." Fushiguro gripes.
"Don't mind him." Maki rolls her eyes. "He's just throwing a tantrum because his sister couldn't make it, and he's gonna have to socialize with people instead of hiding behind her."
Fushiguro glares, but he doesn't respond to that. He just gives you a nod, and you decide these are good kids. At the very least, they're all way better than that brat Satoru.
"So, why are we waiting out here?" You ask, peering around.
"The doors haven't opened, yet," Okkutso kindly relays, "we're just waiting out here until everything is set up."
"If they're taking this long, then they should at least ask for help." Maki crosses her arms. "We've been waiting out here for at least thirty minutes."
"At least there's food." Panda tries to assuage.
"Salmon," says Inumaki.
"They're serving salmon out here?" You give him an incredulous look and he waves his arms around.
"Bonito flakes." Inumaki says. Okkutso tries to come to his rescue.
"Inumaki can't speak anything but food items because of his curse-" Maki quickly yanks him down by his collar frantically. Fushiguro is whispering something in his ear. You watch them go back and forth before it clicks.
"Does it have something to do with his technique?" You ask, curiously.
They stop squabbling.
"Oh, our bad. Sorry 'bout that." Panda gives a sheepish grin. "We didn't think you'd know about jujutsu sorcery 'cause...well. Your cursed energy is really low."
"Super low." Maki agrees.
"Salmon."
"Even lower than Maki's." That earns Panda a punch from her.
"Thank you," you dryly say, before you turn back to the building.
"What's going on in that place anyway?"
They all give you an odd look before they look at each other. Did you say something wrong?
"Did Gojo-sensei not tell you anything?" Okkotsu asks.
You allow yourself to leak some bitterness. "Satoru just dropped me on the sidewalk before teleporting away. He never tells me anything.
"That sounds like him." Panda nods.
"Idiot," Maki says.
"Such an idiot," Fushiguro says, and now you feel bad for Satoru.
"Our sensei's getting married today." Okkutso supplies. He points at the dome.
You don't get why you didn't realize it sooner. You knew these kids, at least Okkutso, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. They all showed up on the very last day Geto Suguru died. Okkutso, in particular, had fought and defeated Suguru.
These were Gojo Satoru's students.
You think back to the last time you saw Satoru. He didn't look like a groom, but he's an eccentric guy. You wondered what kind of person would put up with him for the rest of their lives. You pitied them.
"Oh." You frown. "His wedding? I—I would have at least brought a gift."
"I don't think he'd mind," Panda said, "besides, you didn't even know!"
You still felt a bit guilty.
"We didn't bring anything either," Fushiguro states, and it helps just a tiny bit.
"When the ceremony begins, you can sit with us," Okkutso tells you, "we're supposed to keep an eye on you, anyway."
"You're not talking to a dog." Maki grunts.
"Oh no I—I didn't mean to be offensive!" Okkutso backtracks. "It's just—well, Gojo-sensei's been talking about you for a while, and we want to make sure everything goes smoothly and we were all really excited to meet you so—"
He keeps rambling like that until Inumaki pats his shoulder. You laugh, amused.
"I wasn't offended or anything." You tell him before his words sink in. "Wait, Satoru talks about me?"
"All the time." Maki responds, an edge to her voice. "'Greeny this', 'Greeny that'."
"We usually tune him out when he gets like that," Panda says, "honestly, we didn't even think you were real until just now."
"I always thought 'Greeny' was an inside joke Gojo-sensei and Haibara-sensei had," Okkotsu admits.
Something warm bubbles in your stomach.
"So," Fushiguro speaks, "how do you know Gojo, anyway?"
You didn't know the story Gojo told them so you simply keep it vague.
"I knew him as a kid."
It's Panda who gets the most excited about this.
"Really? What was he like as a teenager?"
"A brat." You instantly respond, and then you think a little more. "But I don't think that ever changed."
They ask you a couple more questions about Gojo's high school days. You oblige, thinking this as payback for how Satoru dropped you here without saying anything. You don't know how long you spend out there, airing out Gojo's younger days while his students get increasingly giggly.
Okkotsu is the one who notices the crowd is moving.
"I think they opened the doors." He smiles. "Let's go, everyone."
You follow behind Maki, admiring the architecture. It's a grand building. Sparkling crystal glass lets the sunlight bleed in. The decoration was something else entirely. Small white flowers adorn the chandelier, and they cascade down the edges. Ice sculptures of angels greeted the guests. Live music was already playing. Satoru knows how to plan a wedding.
Maki finds you all seats. You sit next to her. Fushiguro follows you. Okkutso, Inumaki, and Panda take the seats behind you. While you wait for the guests to settle down, you pass your time, waiting for the students to bicker with one another. From your assumption, it looked as though Maki, Panda, and occasionally Inumaki butted heads with each other. Okkutso often served as the timid referee, trying to get everyone to calm down, which almost always made things worse. Fushiguro just elected to ignore everything.
"Are they always like this?" You lean over to whisper to him. Fushiguro gives a tired nod.
"Every. Single. Day." He's saying this from experience, but at least you get a show.
Everyone settles down eventually. The kids grow quiet when the music starts to swell. The indoor lights dim. It's starting.
You've never been to a wedding this grand before. There was a live orchestra. Women and men were dressed in baby blue, gently strumming away their cellos, violins, and violas.
It's how you miss Satoru's entrance. He's already standing on the altar by the time you look back. He's changed into something more formal. The suit and green tie fit him. A perfectly put-together beauty. As though he can sense your stare, he catches your eye and winks.
It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool.
You don't think you're breathing when you watch him walk down the aisle. The music is low, barely loud enough to hide the click of his heels. He takes his rightful place beside Satoru, his best man. Satoru gives him a nudge, and Suguru shakes his head fondly.
Everyone turns to see Shoko's entrance. You should too, but you keep staring at him. How much he's changed since high school. How much he's changed since he waltzed onstage wearing a priest's outfit, filled with nothing but empty hatred for those he viewed as weak.
But he's not wearing that twisted monk costume. His eyes aren't dull and dead and bitter. There's no sickly faux smile on his lips.
Today, Suguru looks like the happiest man on Earth.
His eyes are wide and eager and sparkling purple beauties. He's 27, but he looks younger. The lines of exhaustion and heartbreak aren't so prominent. And you—and you—
You just sit there, watching as Shoko walks up to the altar, watching as they stand as bride and groom. His daughters, adorned in pretty blue dresses, stand right behind him, smiling so hard you're sure it hurts. The priest speaks. They say their vows. You can't hear a single word. It's like you're behind a glass wall, and you can see him, but you can't feel him.
When they kiss, everything comes back. The crowd celebrates. Satoru ruffles Himeno's hair. Nanako smiles wider. Behind you, Inumaki and Panda sniffles. Okkotsu hands them a tissue.
"It’s pretty." Maki comments. Fushiguro gives a hum of agreement.
ⴵ
Satoru finds you and the kids when you're waiting for the reception to start.
He appears behind you with a cheery, "And how are my lovely students holding up?" You almost spill your drink in shock.
"Sensei!" Okkotsu chirps. "Where's Geto-sensei and Ieiri-sensei?"
"Shoko's around; Suguru's taking a break," Gojo answers with a grin. "If you don't mind me, I'll be stealing this one for a sec."
He doesn't wait for an answer, steering you away by your shoulders. You look behind you. Panda waves. Fushiguro just looks even more upset. You wave back at them regardless.
"I can't believe you put your students out on babysitting duty." You tell him. "And what's with this wedding? There's no alcohol anywhere." To make your point, you take another sip of your apple juice.
"We have kids here. Kinda' have to make it alcohol-free," Satoru says.
"The bartender could ID them." You suggest.
"You think teens who fight curses daily wouldn't figure out how to get around that?" He grins. You frown at his frustratingly good response.
“What’d you think of them?”
“Hm?”
“The kids.” He urges. “What’d you think?”
Your brows scrunch. You have no idea what he means by that. Eventually, you take a breath.
“I like how...close they are.” You eventually say. “The bond they share. They care. I think each one of them will be good sorcerers.”
He’s silent, and you think you might have misunderstood his question.
“I learned that from you,” Satoru says, “keeping them together, making sure they can grow, get stronger, together. You were always so insistent on that, back then. I’m glad you were. It was one of the best things about you.”
You stare at him. Really stare. You’ve never heard him sound so genuine, so sincere before. You look into his crystal-blue eyes, wide and earnest. Part of you wants to take a picture, so you could keep it forever.
Eventually, Gojo successfully drags you to a less crowded area of the party. He looks around.
"Hm, he should be around here somewhere...?" Satoru hums to himself.
"Who?" You ask. That question answers itself.
Haibara Yu is waiting a little ways ahead. By now, the sun was starting to set. His brown hair turned gold. Gojo eagerly hurries you forward as he calls out to him. You stumble, still lost at what you're seeing.
"Guess who I brought?" Gojo sweetly sings, Yu-Haibara, he hasn't let you call him Yu yet-tilts his head.
He smiles, confused. "Oh? Hello!" He says cheerily. "Who's this?" He asks to Gojo.
"Guess," Gojo says.
Haibara stares at you, and you decide to give him a hint.
"Brocolli head?"
He gapes. It's almost the same reaction he had last time. Last time, when you had to convince him to kill you so you could go back in time to save Satoru.
"No way." He gasps. "Greeny?"
He doesn't remember. He wouldn't, why would he? Still, it's nice to see the innocence on his face, rather than the pain you saw last time. Right before he snapped your neck.
You think he was crying the last time you two saw each other.
In this timeline, Haibara is hugging you so tightly you think your head's about to explode.
"It's really you?" Haibara says, but his bear hug muffles his words. "“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again even though Satoru said we'd see you again one day, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”
"Haibara." You plead. "You're suffocating me."
"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry." He lets you go, and your lungs inflate again. "I—I'm just so happy! And—and you're a girl!" He says it like it's the most surprising thing about this whole revelation. Maybe it is.
Satoru is always needy for attention and whines as always.
"Wait, you two came up with a code word?" He complains. "That's not fair. We never did that."
"I mean, it was Haibara's idea." You point out. "You should be smarter next time."
That makes him frown even more. You laugh.
"Yu." Haibara suddenly says.
You turn to him.
"My friends call me Yu."
It's nice to know that no matter what timeline you're in, Yu will always remain stagnant.
"Okay, lover boy," Gojo says with a not-so playful bite, "keep your eye on this one for me, okay? Gotta' go do more best man shit."
Satoru's gone once again. You look at Yu.
"He's been running around since I got here." You tell him. "Does that man ever rest?"
"Nope." Haibara grins, before taking your arm. "Follow me; you should meet a couple of people."
He leads you through the crowd. You spot the teens moping about out of the corner of your eye. Panda and Inumaki seem to be in a push-up competition. Maki is egging them on. You wisely decide not to disturb them.
Yu drops your hand to wave to someone. There's no need for any kind of introduction for these people.
Riko and Misato Kuroi smile at you first. Miss Kuroi's aged beautifully since you last saw her. Wispy silver hair knitted seamlessly into brown strands. She never got that chance to grow gray hairs last time. You're staring so much it might be rude.
"Yu?" Riko asks and you think you're about to break because they know each other. "Who's this?"
"Uh, this-" Haibara chokes before looking at your awkwardly. Right, he doesn't know your actual name.
Come to think of it, Satoru doesn't know either. He never bothered to ask too. Probably on purpose. Ass.
You smile and politely introduce yourself. It takes everything within you not to scream and hug them both because in this timeline, they don't know you. They never did.
But you can change that now.
"Hello!" Riko beams. "I'm Kuroi Riko, but just Riko is fine! And this is my mom: Kuroi Misato."
She says that so plainly, like that had always been her name, like Miss Kuroi had always been her mother. You wonder how long it took for those two realities to become her norm. Or maybe it hardly took time at all.
"It's wonderful to meet you." Miss Kuroi states before she tilts her head. "May I ask how you know the couple?"
Haibara jumps in for you. "Um—actually, this is Satoru's date!" He fumbles.
You do a double-take. No, you technically weren't Satoru's date. But you technically entered the wedding with him. And he was the one who 'invited' you. Fuck, you were the brat's date. Damn it.
"Ah." Nanami cuts in for the first time. "So, you're the one Gojo won't shut up about."
His accusation sounds like Maki's, but less harsh. You wonder if he has a favorite student.
Nanami looks the most different from his high school counterpart. A new haircut, less slouchy, more tall and refined. He blinks at you, slow and calculating.
Sheepishly, you laugh. "Yeah...that's me....sorry."
"Don't be rude, Kento."
Ieiri arrives with a soft smile and painted features. She's changed out of her glowing gown, sticking to something small yet perfectly elegant: a short white dress that curls ever so slightly at the ends. Riko's the first to hug her, ecstatic. Ieiri hugs her back, too, because they've become friends in this timeline. The circles under her eyes are less prominent. Her smile looks more real. This isn't the timeline where she's had to bury her friend; it's the timeline she's allowed to marry him.
"Congratulations," you say politely once everyone is done cooing over her. She smiles at you, the way a stranger would.
Then, her head tilts.
"Sorry," she hesitates, "do we know each other? You...feel familiar somehow."
Ieiri was the first person you met when you activated your technique and returned to the past for the first time. She was the one who calmed you down, kept you grounded. In a way, you owed a lot to her.
Looking at her, you can see why Suguru kept her cigarettes in his pocket.
You shrug. "I must have one of those faces."
The attention turns back to her, her beautiful dress, pure and white and beautiful. You feel Haibara stare at you. You shake your head at him. It wasn't the time. Maybe it never will be.
"This really is a beautiful wedding," Mistato says when the conversation reaches a pleasant lull, "I can't imagine how much it cost."
She shrugged.
"Probably a fortune, but I let Satoru deal with the numbers."
Misato looks confused, and Ieiri laughs.
"He paid for everything." She gestures to the venue. "Suguru and I didn't have to fork over a single cent. It's the least he could do for being a pain in the ass for 12 years."
Damn, you knew he was rich, but you didn't know he was rich rich. Maybe you should consider being nicer to him. If you ask politely, perhaps you could get him to pay off your car loans.
"I'll get him to pay for my wedding too." Riko proudly says.
"He'd probably do it, too." Ieiri nodded along. "He offered, just like that. The only thing he was hellbent on was the date."
"The date?" You echo. Ieiri shrugs, messing with her laced sleeves.
"Said it absolutely needed to be on December 24th. Something about spirituality. I never listened to that guy's rants."
It comes to you immediately, but you're pushing it away. No way. Satoru wouldn't. There isn't a chance in Hell he would have convinced his friends to have the biggest day of their lives on the same day you were supposed to meet him.
No, of course, he would do that. Ass.
"So, how do you know Satoru?" Riko asks you. When she realized how rude it sounded, she backtracked. "I—I didn't mean anything by it! It's just...the guy only knows five people. When he spoke about bringing someone along, I thought he was joking."
"Same here," Nanami says. Haibara stifles a laugh, and you realize all of Satoru's friends think he's a loser.
Friends. Back then, he only had one of those.
"Um." You toss Haibara look. He shrugs. "We met a few years ago! But we just recently reconnected." That's close enough to the truth. Good enough.
You remember your blunder. You sympathetically look at Shoko.
"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to bring a gift," you say, "I was blindsided. Satoru barely gave me enough time to get ready."
You laugh, and you're hoping they laugh it off too. They don't, instead Shoko, Nanami, Riko, and Misato look at you. Then, they look at each other.
Nanami speaks first. He clears his throat.
"Did Satoru....abduct you?"
"What?"
"That sounds like him." Misato sighs, more exasperated than anything else.
Riko nods along with her. "We tried to teach him. Where did we go wrong?" she laments.
Haibara and Shoko laugh as you desperately try to defend your not-date date because he didn't actually kidnap you, but he did bring you here against your will and started dragging you along like some toy, but it's the context about that that matters. You wished they could've had a bit more faith in him. Poor Satoru.
It ends eventually. Ieiri excuses herself. Riko and Misato go too. You stay with Yu and Nanami, watching as they get into increasingly petty arguments. It’s hilarious how quickly Yu is able to bring the usually staunch and serious Nanami down to his level.
Sometime later, you find yourself roaming the balcony. The party roars on indoors, laughing, talking, cheering. It was chilly outside, you should go back in within a few minutes. You just needed a break from the action.
The sun had already gone down, by then. You were somewhere out in the country. The buildings sparsely dotted the horizon. There were no artificial lights. It meant the stars could shine as brightly as they wanted to, with no one to stop them.
You hadn’t seen Satoru in a while. You had no idea where he’d run off to. It didn’t matter; you knew he’d eventually pop out of a box to harass you again.
But now that you had space for yourself, you needed to think.
You rest your hands over the rail, looking up at the stars. There were so many out tonight.
You fixed the future. You changed everything. Does that mean you still needed to tell Satoru about the past timeline?
You promised him answers the next time you two met. You promised him an explanation. He waited ten years for that. You pinch at the fabric of the dress.
This future that you carefully built, crafted with your own hands. It’s delicate, a glass castle.
It’s justice, but did that make it right?
“Want one?”
The voice makes you jump.
He stares at you, leaning against the rail. Purple eyes, mirroring the starry sky.
You knew these eyes, for a while, they used to be yours.
You stare at him. Then, you stare at the cigarette in his inviting fingers.
Your fingers twitch.
“No—no, I’m fine.” You smile. “Actually, I’m trying to quit.”
“Ah.” Suguru says, lighting it up before bringing it to his lips. “Shouldn’t tempt you, then. Pardon, what’s your name?”
You can hear your heartbeat. It’s loud, right in your ear. You wonder if he can hear it too. Are his curses around? Can they smell it? Your blood? Are they still as ravenous as the last time, eager to tear and fester and eat—
“It’s Greeny,” you say, “you can call me Greeny. ”
He hums in approval.
“Geto Suguru,” he says, “though I’m pretty sure you already know that.” You both share a huff of laughter.
“My fiancé quit a few years ago.” Suguru starts, mentioning the cherry-red cigarette. “Thought I’d follow in her footsteps, but here I am.” He shrugs before he winces.
“Wife, sorry.” He corrects. “I still can’t believe it.”
The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.
You smile at his tone. He sounded like that 12 years ago, when he was still just a kid. Full of soft wonder.
“I’m guessing you’ve been planning this for a long time?” You ask.
He shrugs. “Shoko did most of the work. This is all thanks to her, really. Unfortunately, I was too busy managing the school.”
“I heard you were a principal?” You prod.
Suguru nods, “Our current one recently retired. I’m trying to follow in his footsteps.”
You think of Principal Yaga, the one with sunglasses and a stern expression. He looks a lot like Nanami in some areas. But he acts more like Suguru than anyone you ever knew.
And you knew Suguru; you knew him as well as yourself.
The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.
“I can tell you’re already making him proud,” you say, “I met your students. They’re good kids.”
He smiles, soft, gentle. Those used to be your smiles.
“They are, aren’t they?” He repeats back, “some of them had a rough beginning, but it all worked out somehow.” He hums. “I’m glad.”
His daughters, the ones standing beside him as he kissed his wife, wide eyes and even wider grins. They didn’t have the darkness in their faces. The bitterness. Like they did in the last timeline.
You were glad, too.
This death is a lot more painful than the others.
The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.
You forgive Suguru.
“It sounds like you’ve had personal experience with that sort of thing.” When he looks at you, you quickly say. “Your eyes. I—I can see it. I’ve always been good at that sort of thing.” You knew Suguru. His eyes matched yours.
He doesn’t look offended. Suguru takes a minute, reaching up to his black locks. He removes the elastic, pretty black hair falls down his shoulders He’s grown it out since high school. It reaches his waist.
He eases himself back onto the rail, looking up at the stars. You follow.
“Yeah, I do,” he’s saying, “I think I know what it’s like being them at that age. Alone, isolated, slipping down a rock. Drowning, but no one can see it.” Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised.
“When I was younger...it was really hard. Some days, I was so full of hate and anger. The pain was a lot. Sometimes, I had this despicable idea that it was someone else’s fault I was like this. Someone innocent.” He laughs, bitter.
“And, on those days, I would often feel something.”
You look at him. Suguru doesn’t stare back, eyes lost in the stars.
“Sometimes, it’d be a voice. Other times a small nudge on my shoulders, pushing me in the right direction. Once, it was a hug, keeping me from doing something that would’ve changed my life forever. And it would be just a bit more bearable, like I wasn’t so alone.”
You can feel your heart in your throat. Your fingers grip the railing.
“What did you think it was?” You expect hate, disgust. You want to give yourself a reason.
You forgive Suguru.
He takes a moment, coming back from heaven. His eyes find yours.
“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I’m not religious, but I always liked to think of it as—”
An angel. A hand of God. A higher power. It doesn’t matter what Suguru said, you knew what he meant.
A part of you always wondered why Suguru would return to Jujutsu society, when he wanted nothing more than to run from it. You expected him to retire. Instead, he took the reins of the beast, wrangling it down. Now, you get why.
“That’s why you’re a teacher now,” you say, “so you could be the same thing for your students.”
He nods, and you think of Maki. You think of Okkutso. You think of Panda. You think of Fushiguro. You think of Inumaki. Suguru must have been there for Maki, even when her own family wasn’t. Suguru must have helped Okkutso control his technique, being the only one who could. Suguru, must have made these kids better than they ever possibly could’ve been. Fighting for them instead of against them.
“Sorry.” He blinks. “I—I didn’t mean to get so sentimental. It’s been years since I thought about my own highschool years.” He laughs, voice full.
“You’re just...really nice to talk to.” He hums. “I don’t think I can explain it but it’s...familiar somehow.”
You look at him. He’s older, but in some ways, he hasn’t really changed. Even now, when you look at him, you see a reflection of yourself.
“I can see why he likes you.”
“Who?” You ask when he brings you back from your thoughts.
“The idiot.” But he says it so affectionately, so lovingly, you can’t help but smile. “I saw him dragging you around earlier. Sorry about that. I would’ve stepped in but...” He trails off, thinking.
“It’s been a while since I saw him like that.”
You hadn’t noticed anything about Satoru. He smiled just as brightly as he did in highschool. Now, you wonder if this was the first time in a while Suguru had seen that side of him: carefree, no longer The Strongest.
It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.
You forgive Suguru.
“Are you and him…” he trails off.
“No.” You laugh. “No, I’m his….childhood friend. We just haven’t seen each other in a while.”
“Oh?” He tilts his head. “How long has it been?”
You decide to be honest. “Ten or so years, give or take?”
He whistles.
“No wonder he’s bouncing around like a yipping puppy,” He says, and you can’t help but agree with the analogy.
“In any case.” He leans over the railing. His cigarette is down to its last embers. “I hope you stick around. A friend…I think he needs more of those more than anything.”
You stare at him. Those purple eyes. You can see what Shoko sees. You can see what Satoru saw all those timelines ago. They only ever saw the light, the gentleness, of Geto Suguru.
You are the only person in the world who knows him.
He’s killed people. He’s killed you. No matter how much logic or justification or pain was involved, the blood of the innocent is still sticky. It still drips across the pavement, scarring the sidewalk in red. It still hurts.
When Suguru would kill you, you’d force yourself to forgive him. You needed to die without regrets, because the pain of hatred builds up, you’ve seen it happen firsthand.
But now that you’re free, what Suguru did to you wasn't fair. Just because his innocence was taken away doesn’t give him the right to take the lives of others. It never gives anyone the right to murder. You keep telling yourself that this Suguru and that Suguru were different…but they weren’t. Not really. The look in their eyes matched perfectly.
He’d do it again, in the right conditions.
And yet.
You forgive Suguru.
You can’t judge him. If there is a God, maybe Suguru will have to pay for the crimes he committed all those timelines ago. You can’t save Suguru from that. But to you, the debt is paid.
Besides, you’re too tired to hate him. And you won’t allow yourself to fall into the same cycle he struggled to break free from.
You look into his eyes. Then, at his ring. You smile.
And that's enough.
“I will,” you say, “I will.”
Then, as two parts of a whole, the two of you stare at the stars for a little while longer.
ⴵ
The reception was nice. A fancy dinner, you can’t remember the last time you ate something. The speeches were beautiful, especially Shoko’s. You swore you saw Nanami shed a tear, but you never said anything about it.
You saw a glimpse of white hair in the crowd before the first dance began. Stunning music. The couple must have practiced for months. Bride and Groom, husband and wife, held hands and looked at each other like they were the only ones in the room.
Megumi stood beside you, watching Ieiri and Geto sway to the music. As though the kid could sense him, Megumi’s serene face sours. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when there’s a tap on your shoulder.
“Cute, huh?” Satoru starts, mentioning at the dance. “It didn’t look this put-together in the beginning. Shoko gave him a ton of bruises,” he says with a shit-eating grin.
You frown. “Shouldn’t you be doing something else than gossiping about your friends?”
“I am! I’m checking up on my son!” And then he turns to Fushiguru. “Megumi!”
“No.” Fushiguro instantly rebukes.
“Don’t mind him.” Satoru chides. “He’s going through an angst phase.” Fushiguro rolls his eyes, but he shifts just a tiny bit.
“Y’know, he was actually supposed to be the flower boy, but he refused. Such a shame, the pictures would’ve been something else.” Gojo sighed and now you’re convinced they aren’t father and son.
“That was never going to happen.” Fushiguro says, and as if he thinks you’re naive enough to believe Satoru, he glances at you. “Never.”
“Of course not.” You crack a smile.
You watch as Ieiri descends into a graceful spin, Geto taking the lead. When he tips her over, your eyes soften.
Gojo leans over; you can feel his breath in your ear.
“Next year.” He whispers. “For us, it’ll definetly be next year.”
You jerk away but he’s already skipping off, having the audacity to call out a cheerful ‘toodles’.
“What did he say?” Fushiguro questions.
That’s what you wanted to know, too, but you were so tired, and the night was so long, and you couldn’t bother to get out your Gojo translator and figure it out.
“The same stuff he always says. Nonsense.” You decide on. Fushiguro takes the answer.
“I don’t understand how he has all that energy.” You mutter, watching Satoru disappear through the crowd.
“I thought he’d get better with age, turns out I was wrong,” Fushiguro says.
“I wanted to ask,” you start, your eyes still on Ieiri and Geto, “how do you know Gojo? Aren’t you still in middle school?”
“Everyone knows Gojo. He’s pretty famous in the jujutsu world.” Fushiguro shrugs. “But personally...he’s my benefactor. Took me and my sister in when my parents left.”
You look at him. And you feel like an idiot.
He’s the spitting image of his father. Sharp cobalt eyes. Black hair. Fushiguro Toji is all over the young man.
Gojo Satoru, the one who killed the sorcerer killer, took care of his enemy’s children.
“What?” Fushiguro asks when you’re smiling
You shake your head. “No, no it’s nothing.”
Satoru told you that you’re the one who taught him about the importance of bonds. But you think he should take some of the credit too.
ⴵ
Eventually, everyone gets on the dancefloor.
It’s a mess. Absolute chaos. Panda and Inumaki are trying and failing to do the waltz. Maki and Okkuttso are lightly swaying to the music. They’ve managed to get Fushiguro up there too. Though, he doesn’t look extremely happy.
The adults are even worse. Apparently, the retired principal Yaga is a pretty good dancer. You think one of them found alcohol, because Haibara looks absolutely wasted. He’s swinging his arms around, almost hitting the other guests. Nanami is trying to get his attention, but the guy wants none of it. When Haibara catches your eye, he wildly waves in clear invitation.
You smile back, but you shake your head. You think he’s about to come up to you, but something else catches his eye, and he’s grinning at a very irrated-looking Iori.
You were sitting on a chair, just people-watching. It was a nice break from everything. To listen to the music, lightly tap your feet, play with the frill of your dress. You weren’t really in the mood to dance.
Besides, you weren’t technically invited here anyway. It’d be rude to just burst on the scene.
“There you are! Been looking all over for you!”
You don’t have to look over to see who it is. Satoru slumps down in a chair next to you.
“Greeny, you gotta’ do something about your cursed energy. It’s so weak. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly.
“Always happy to help.” Satoru beams, and then he glances over at the floor.
“We’re dancing after this song, by the way.”
“Absolutely not.”
“It’s so cute you think you have a choice, Greeny.”
You frown. “There’s no point in calling me Greeny anymore. Unless you still don’t know my name.”
“I do, but it doesn’t matter,” Satoru says arrogantly. “You’ll always be my Greeny to me.”
You roll your eyes. Even now, he’s a brat. You thought all these years would mellow him down just a tiny bit.
“So,” you start, “are you done with your ‘best man shit’?”
“Yup.” He announces. “Now, I can sit back and enjoy the show.”
You smile, but you can still feel the butterflies in your stomach. He’s been running around so far and it’s given you time. Now, that he’s free, it means you two have to talk.
And you aren’t sure if you truly want to.
You flex your fingers.
“Um, how have you—”
“Stop.” Satoru interrupts. “Let’s not make this awful, Greeny.”
You nod immediately, relaxing. His voice gets softer, after that.
“I’m glad you chose that color,” he says, “I was sorta’ hoping you would.”
You look down at the dress. A deep green. You hadn’t even thought about the color, the boutique lady had basically thrown it at you.
The shade of Satoru’s green tie matches your dress. You can feel your smile again. Typical.
“I’m glad I did too,” you honestly say. And then, you continue to fiddle with your fingers. Ultimately, you decide to just bite the bullet.
“I thought you’d be mad.” You finally say, words jittery and unfocused. “Angry at me for...for what I did.”
He’s silent, and you feared that it was all true. The laughs and the jabs were all a facade.
"I don’t think I was ever mad." He responds, staring into the crowd. "Hurt, yeah. Then, it faded into something that stung everytime I thought about it, and then...something else. And now, I know it's a waste to get mad because you're finally here now. With me."
His tone pitches upwards as he reaches over to painfully pinch your cheek.
"'Sides, I know you can't escape me anymore, Greeny," Satoru cheerfully says, "Now, I know your face, your name, and with little effort, I could probably find your address, your social security-"
"Okay! Okay!" You pull away, rubbing your cheek. Damn, he's scary. "Threat acknowledged."
"Good!" He straightens himself back up, and you find yourself slumping again.
“I am sorry, though,” you say, “for leaving like that. I...I always wished I could do that a bit differently. You deserved better.”
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t blame yourself for only doing what you could. It eats at you, Greeny. It really does.” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair.
“You deserved better too,” he says back, voice barely above the music, “I always had some regrets about those years. I thought I could’ve done more to help you, back then.”
There it was again: selfishness, the urge to do good to others while retaining that greed. You supposed you taught him that.
You put your face in your hands.
“Even though, you dragged me here against my will, I feel so guilty being here.” You complain, hoping it’ll lighten the mood. “You should apologize to everyone because I crashed the party.”
Satoru scoffs. “What are you talking about? Everyone loves you!” He exclaims. “Look, Yu’s ecstatic. Riko won’t stop gushing about you; you even have Nanami’s approval! I don’t even have that!” You roll your eyes, sinking back in your seat.
“Besides, you needed to come. You needed to see it.”
“See what?” You ask.
“This.” He points to the venue, the ballroom full of glittery whites and sparkles.
“Look around, Greeny. Look at all the people you saved.”
Haibara and Riko are dancing together. Two dead children finally had the chance to grow up. Misato speaks to Nanami. Beautiful gray hair, eyes that aren’t so tired. Shoko sparkling in her dress, and Geto—
The same day he was supposed to die, Suguru was getting married.
“Thank you.” When you look at him, Satoru is staring right at you. His sea eyes give everything and more.
“Thank you for saving all of us.”
Your heart skips, then just stops completely. You can’t cry, you won’t not here, not on such a happy day. But your eyes are stinging. And Satoru is turning blurry.
And then, like Satoru always does, he ruins the moment.
"Did you just fall for me a little?"
His head tilts. That same mischievous, irritating smile lights up on his face.
You relax, laughing out of disbelief. When you speak, your voice is barely scratchy. "You're so full of yourself; it's actually a little cute."
"You think I'm cute?"
"Did you hear anything else that I just said?"
"I heard you think I'm cute,” Satoru responds proudly, and you doubt he’d ever let you hear the end of it.
“And besides! Today is supposed to be a celebration for you too!” He exclaims.
“Oh really?”
“Yes,” Satoru says proudly, “you did it! You became a fully-fledged sorcerer. Considering your low CE, you might pass as grade four, but when I talk to our new principal, I’m sure he’ll make things right. Get ready to join be and him in the big leagues.”
You could read between the lines. Satoru wanted to tell everyone. You think a while ago, you might have agreed, but...
“Can...Can I quit being a sorcerer?” You ask. “I’m tired.”
He takes a second. Some of you wonders if he’ll try to talk you out of this. It’s more beneficial for him if you stay as an asset to the jujutsu world. How many people’s lives will be saved by a technique like yours? To be able to go back in time again and again and again. To die again and again and again.
“Someone once told me that it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” Satoru looks at you, eyes like lilies once again. “I won’t fault you for it. I don’t think anyone will.”
When you try to smile, it feels wobbly.
“That person sounds smart.”
“Nah.” He grins. “An idiot, actually. Way too oblivious.”
You laugh, despite the insult.
“Quit,” Satoru says when it’s quiet again, “do whatever you want. But...you can’t run away, okay? I won’t let you.”
It’s barely a touch. His hand reaches for your fingers. You’re the one who grabs it.
“I won’t.” You promise. “I won’t.”
He’s satisfied with that. You can tell when he squeezes your hand back.
You look at him, and you decide you won't tell Satoru what happened in the last timeline.
There's no point. It wouldn't do anything but shatter everything he worked so hard to make. Why would you break the glass when you could just add concrete, make it stronger? You saved everyone. A few white lies here and there just keep this future safe.
And you know this Satoru. If you told him, he'd carry that burden with you like the soldier he was. You don't want him to do that. You don't want him to have the same look you see in your own face. One last sacrifice.
When you come back, Satoru is shifting in his seat, uncrossing his legs.
“So...about that dance?”
“Ugh, fine.” You stand up. “One dance. And if you do anything embarrassing, I’m leaving.”
“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He grins, standing up himself.
He doesn’t release your hand for the rest of the night.
You don’t mind.
(When you disappear again, Maki’s the one who finds you.
By then, it’d been long into the night. Shoko and Suguru were already gone, off to their honeymoon in the Maldives. Riko, Misato, and most of the students were sleeping off the night. Maki, his most diligent student, was helping the remaining adults pack up the venue.
She’s dragging chairs away when she grunts in Satoru’ direction.
“By the way, your date’s sleeping outside.”
Ah, you were on the balcony. No wonder he couldn’t find you. Satoru needed to do something about your cursed energy. What’s the point of having six eyes when he can’t even find the one person who’s evaded him for a decade?
You’ve completely passed out. Slumped over on a chair, head bent at an angle that could not be comfortable. Satoru knows he should feel bad. He dragged you around the entire night like a ragdoll. This was partially his fault.
He can’t really blame himself, not when you were finally here.
It still feels like a dream. Being able to hear your voice, not Suguru’s, not Yu’s. Your touch. Your eyes. Your face. Your laugh. For years, he’s wondered what it sounded like.
Reality beat even his perfect daydreams.
Seeing you up there on the Tokyo Skytree. The wind pushing your hair back and forth. It was breathtaking.
Even the lights of Tokyo, couldn’t compare to you.
He leans down, lips at your ear, voice low because he’s too prideful to let anyone else hear, not even you.
“I know it’s too late, but you looked really pretty tonight.”
You say nothing, but you shift, murmur something in your sleep. It’s all he needs.
He ditches the clean up party, taking you within his arms. He thinks he says something to Yu, but Satoru doesn’t really care if he heard. Right now, he only has one priority.
Tonight, he’ll sleep on the hotel’s pull-out sofa while you snooze in the luxurious queen-sized bed. You’ll probably be mad in the morning, something about how you should’ve taken the couch, but he doesn’t mind your mindless acts of selflessness.
He’s waited a decade. He deserves to keep you.
And he knows you won’t fault him for being selfish one more time.)
