Starlight ❤︎

Fangirl/lifestyle/fanfic blog (mostly JJK/gojo fanfics ( *｀ω´), always sfw, a lot of angst + headcanon lists), just here to post my thoughts ♡

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summary: the three of you were undoubtedly entertwined from the moment you met. your bond was holy. until everything fell apart. what is love when it can’t save any of you?

content warnings: sad, language, major character death, violence (fight scenes), angst, substance use (smoking/drinking), spoilers/deviations from hidden inventory/cursed child/Shibuya arc

word count: 1.7k

note: hidden inventory arc! everything will be in chronological order now I think, no more time skips :)

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

© 2024 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

There were few things that eased the perpetual guilt within you, and Jujutsu High was no exception to that rarity. Still, daily training, meals, and days off with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko made you almost forget what you owed. Almost. 

✧✧✧

The four of you had gotten quite comfortable with one another. You hadn’t felt the need to use your technique to monitor their emotions for months. Sitting on a park bench, you leaned over Satoru’s shoulder as he opened the convenience store bag full of popsicles. Shoko reached for one first, then Suguru, taking the flavor you had wanted. Satoru, eyes flicking over to you so quickly you didn’t even notice, snatched it from Suguru. Irritated, Suguru glares at Satoru. He just sticks his tongue out. Satoru unwrapped the popsicle triumphantly, humming a little, as Suguru shook his head to pick another. You watched Satoru as he beckoned you to take the popsicle, but as you gripped the stick, he smirked and bit off a huge piece. His eyes were just dripping with amusement at the tease. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Quit flirting,” Shoko joked, chewing on her popsicle. 

Satoru only laughed, not denying her comment. It only made you more flushed. 

✧✧✧

“Y/N, you’re with me,” Satoru beamed as he slung an arm around you. You noted how easily he touched you. You had preferred to keep physical distance whenever possible, but Satoru’s easygoing contact eased you into it yourself. Still, why were you stuck with him? 

“Suguru, how could you not choose me?” You whined.  “Because he couldn’t beat me in rock paper scissors,” Satoru gloated. “Now get over here and help me win,” he said, pulling you over to the arcade console. 

He definitely didn’t need your help; Satoru was a beast at first person shooters. You watched the tickets sputter out of the machine, overflowing your basket. 

When Satoru went to redeem them, he came back with a bug-eyed rabbit. It was the ugliest stuffed animal you had ever seen. “It looks just like you!” Satoru said, cackling. 

You punched him in the gut. He let you. 

✧✧✧

Fighting curses together was fun, as much as it made you sad. Satoru’s confidence, enjoyment of the fight, wit, it all reminded you of Akemi. Though you never dwelled on it. He was so strong, and you were there beside him, in control of your technique now. The past may never stop haunting you, but it was not the same as the present. 

“Suguru, you take that building,” Satoru led. “Y/N, come with me, there’s a big one here,” he motioned to the building in front of you two. 

Satoru rushes into battle. For good reason, he’s strong. Still, he was irresponsible. He hadn’t even mastered his technique’s reversal yet, nor could he expand a domain. 

✧✧✧

You had no idea what was happening. Satoru’s hand was in your hair, gripping a little too hard, lips on yours, heart thumping so loudly you couldn’t just hear it, you could feel it too. You could smell his shampoo, his detergent, his skin. If you weren’t already tipsy, the scent made you fully intoxicated.

Shoko had snuck in alcohol for the four of you. You were second years now, dabbling in things too mature for your age yet attempting nonchalance. Still, with the beers in your systems, you’d all thought to indulge in a childish game of truth or dare. You had no idea Satoru would be such a lightweight, he didn’t seem like the type. 

“I dared Suguru,” Shoko laughed. Satoru ignored her. 

His lips, pressing against yours, were incredibly soft, slightly wet, creating a sensation that left you lightheaded. You pressed a hand to his chest. He leaned in closer. “I love you,” he told you, deepening the kiss. Love. Love has always left you for dead. Your love was no different than the worst malice, the most ingratiating greed. It kills. You froze, panicking. Before you knew it, you pushed him off. 

His eyes widened, embarrassed, confused, and apologetic all at once. 

“I-, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, tears welling, turning towards Shoko and Suguru, equally shocked at the scene. You gathered yourself and bolted out of Suguru’s dorm room. 

✧✧✧

Suguru followed you out after a few minutes. “Y/N, what happened?”

You turned back, tears now freely streaming down your face out of worry for Satoru and regret for the situation. You didn't mean to, you didn't hate it at all, and most of all, you were selfish to not dwell on his feelings for you, always writing them off. All the blame flooded you. “I’m so stupid,” you said, roughly wiping your face. “It’s…just… I… it’s a lot to explain.”

Suguru didn’t press. He never did. “You want to go get some ice cream to help them sober up?” 

You nodded. 

You made sure to pick up Satoru and Shoko’s favorite flavors, wondering what to say to Satoru when you got back. 

On the way, Suguru handed you a popsicle. Your favorite flavor. You hadn’t even thought to get one for yourself. 

✧✧✧

You weren’t sure if Satoru remembered what happened. He had already passed out when you and Suguru had gotten back, having cried himself to sleep. The next morning, he seemed perfectly fine. Still, he hasn’t made another move since, and the teasing toned down. Still, he was so his usual chipper self you weren’t sure if you were imagining it. Things had been jolted out of balance that night, but everything fell back into equilibrium so quickly you were left wondering if you were the only one tipped over after all.

✧✧✧ 

“Survival of the weakest,” Suguru began. “That’s how a society should be.”

You and Shoko listened, sitting on the benches as Satoru and Suguru debated. They passed the basketball like a mic. 

“Listen, Satoru, jujutsu exists to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers,” Suguru said as he attempted a basket. 

“Is that your moral argument?” Satoru smirked. “I hate moral arguments.”

The air in the room tensed. 

“Assigning reasons and responsibility to strength is what those who are weak do,” Satoru continued, throwing the ball. As soon as it leaves his hand you know it will be a goal. 

“Quit making yourself feel better by spouting bullshit,” Satoru leered, mocking a gag. 

“Hah?” Suguru began. 

“Strength is a curse,” you said, stepping onto the court. Suguru, who was just about to pick a fight, stepped back to listen to you. Shoko left the gym, muttering something about a smoke break. “It isolates you,” you said. “It’s dangerous.”

You grabbed the ball from Satoru, dribbling it slightly. “We save others with our strength so it becomes a blessing,”

Satoru rolled his eyes. “Quit ganging up on me,” he said. “Didn’t cha hear what I just said? Strength isn’t something that needs to be justified, it just exists.”

“Not in a vacuum,” you countered. 

Satoru and you glared at one another.  Suddenly, his gaze shifts. “You seem to feel awfully strong about this, Y/N,”

Taken aback, your eyes widen. You open your mouth, but before you can respond, Yaga walks in, eyeing the atmosphere suspiciously. 

“Suguru, Satoru, come with me.”

✧✧✧

Before leaving for Tengen’s merger, Satoru stopped by your room. “Hey,” he said, knocking. “You alright? The conversation got a little heated earlier.”

“Do you really believe that?” You said, not moving from your bed.  

Satoru furrows his brows, head tilting in confusion. 

“Do you really think there’s no reason for strength?”

“I don’t like being assigned the responsibility,” Satoru said, staring at you matter-of-factly. 

“But you take it on regardless,” you respond, more a statement to yourself than anything else.

Satoru shrugged. 

“You’re kind,” you said, eyes softening. 

And just like that, something in his eyes melted, and you knew he hadn’t forgotten anything about that night, and that it had hurt him, and that as intense as that declaration of love was, he meant it. 

“Satoru,” you breathe, walking up to him. His eyes widen, he stops breathing. 

You lift a hand gingerly to stroke his cheek. But before you can speak, Suguru walks down the hall, oblivious. “Satoru,” he calls. “We gotta go,”

He presses his lips to the palm of your hand quickly, eyes so intense they seem defiant, challenging you to pull away. You don’t. The two of you hold each other’s gaze for a moment. Reluctantly, he turns away. 

✧✧✧

You had mentioned sending the three of you together was overkill. You wished you didn’t have such a fat mouth. 

“Tengen wanted all three of you, but we unfortunately need you and Shoko on a rescue mission,” Yaga explained for you to relay to Shoko. “There have been a series of disappearances, and we just lost contact with a grade 1 sorcerer. Sources say Sukuna’s finger is involved.” You had been caught up earlier on the King of Curses. The spirits his finger would attract wouldn’t be easy to handle, but the sorcerer before you likely took care of most of them. Your main job was to find him and any other people caught in the mix before any remaining curses got there. “Of course, if Sukuna’s finger is there, you’ll need to retrieve it,” Yaga said. 

“Satoru and Suguru will be fine on their own,” you said, nodding. “When do we leave?”

✧✧✧

You liked that Shoko was so indifferent. It wasn’t that she felt nothing, but she understood the reality of things. It grounded her. 

“What’s your take on it all?” You said as the two of you walked. “The strong versus weak thing,”

Shoko smiled slightly; gaze downcast. “I don’t see it any one way,” she said, pulling out a cigarette. “I think you’d have to be pretty crazy to stand alone though,” 

You smiled too. “Off the walls,” you agreed. 

Shoko offered you a cigarette. You took it. 

✧✧✧

The mission wasn’t easy, but it went smoothly enough. Sukuna’s finger had been absorbed by a curse, making the fight difficult. Still, you managed to exorcise it with no major issues. You weren’t able to find one of the missing people, and two others were significantly injured. The sorcerer, too, sustained heavy injuries. You brought them to Shoko as you put up the veil. 

It was in the car of one of the assistant directors that you got the news. The star-plasma vessel died. Satoru and Suguru were both heavily injured. They needed Shoko back immediately. Color drained from you. You took shallow breaths so quickly it soon became hyperventilation. You should’ve been there. Why were you never there to save anyone you loved? 

<- Previous ✧⭐︎☆⭐︎✧  Next ->

summary: the three of you were undoubtedly entertwined from the moment you met. your bond was holy. until everything fell apart. what is love when it can’t save any of you?

content warnings: sad, language, major character death, violence (fight scenes), angst, mentions of domestic violence, spoilers/deviations from hidden inventory/cursed child/Shibuya arc

✧⭐︎ Chapter One ⭐︎✧

✧⭐︎ Chapter Two ⭐︎✧

summary: the three of you were undoubtedly entertwined from the moment you met. your bond was holy. until everything fell apart. what is love when it can’t save any of you?

content warnings: sad, language, major character death, violence (fight scenes), angst, mentions of domestic violence, spoilers/deviations from hidden inventory/cursed child/Shibuya arc

word count: 2k

note: a bit of backstory on reader! the story will really get going soon :)

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

© 2024 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

“Y/N, have you thought about what your domain would look like?” Satoru asked, poking you with his foot from across the couch. Suguru, in between you two, listened in. Shoko was on her phone, lounging lazily on the other side of you.

“No idea,” you shrugged. “Probably pink with hearts everywhere or something,” you joked.  Satoru snorted. “No way, your technique is scary as hell,”

You mock offense.

“Come on,” Satoru continued. “You experience every single emotion as love, and beat people up with it. Isn’t love a scary thing for you, then?”

“Isn’t love a scary thing for everyone?” You laughed. Hoisting yourself up, you continue, “Alright, this conversation has officially gotten too pretentious for me. I’m gonna go train.”

✧✧✧

You had a small, sweet life before Jujutsu High. The years in the orphanage weren’t good---a gross understatement----but before the pain could settle into you, Akemi swept you away to a real life. At her constant whining for a sibling, her parents decided to foster you. Though you suspected you were only there because a biological sibling wasn’t an option, you never dared dwell on it too long. Gratitude flooded your thoughts so thoroughly that you loved the three of them immediately, and the thought they loved you any less became unbearable. Luckily, even if the thought was true, they never made you feel it. 

“You can see them too, right?” Akemi asked you, eyes and smile wide, gesturing to the curse around the corner.

You nodded, surprised. Relieved, too. 

“We’re special,” Akemi said. “Can you feel it? The energy?” 

You nodded again. 

Akemi was stronger than you. While you were still fumbling with the ins and outs of your technique, terrified being able to feel people’s souls, Akemi eagerly trained and sought out the curses of your small town. Her bravery would have made you jealous, if not for how equally eagerly she always included you, hauling you on trips to find the next curse. 

You hated exorcising cursed spirits. Feeling their crude, base instincts horrified you, feeling their fear and pain before death humanized them. You knew innately everything you felt through your technique was love. Somehow, for reasons you couldn’t explain, every emotion tied back to love. You couldn’t help wonder if that meant all the disgusting things curses felt and the gratitude you felt towards Akemi and her family was one and the same. Love was a scary thing. 

Yet, after every trip, Akemi would guide you home (you weren’t good with directions and she preferred to lead), holding your hand all the way. When Akemi’s mom---you didn’t dare think of her as your own---greeted the two of you at the door, the smell of nikujaga emanating from the kitchen, you could almost forget all the horrors that had been forced through your senses. 

✧✧✧

Akemi was so excited to join Jujutsu High. She never stopped talking about it. When you were twelve and Akemi fourteen, she had been scouted, shopping with friends after school. You were at home, sick. She sprinted through the doors, waking you in your sick daze. “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” She squealed as she bolted up the stairs. “You won’t believe it,” she said as she leapt onto your bed, suffocating you in a hug. “Emi,” you scolded. “I’m gonna get you sick!” She only hugged you tighter. “Don’t care,” she giggled. 

When she explained Jujutsu High to you, you were skeptical. “So some old guy came up to you in the street to get you to go?” But it made sense, jujutsu sorcerers were weird people. 

Akemi was a fit of giggles, so eager for the two of you to take on the city. But you weren’t so sure. You hated fighting curse spirits, feeling the shape of their souls. You didn’t want to do it for life. And you didn’t want to leave Akemi’s parents either. Still, you owed everything to Akemi. What she wanted, you’d do. It didn’t feel right to stay with Akemi’s parents while she was gone, anyway.

You never should’ve agreed to it. 

✧✧✧

Wandering Tokyo with Akemi at night, a few months before she was supposed to join Jujutsu High, the two of you had run into a cursed spirit. It spoke. You didn’t know they could do that. 

“Two pretty girls….how lucky am I?” The spirit leered. You could sense what it was feeling. You froze in fear. Akemi was only more excited, always ready to fight. “Emi,” you whimpered. “Let’s run,”  “Don’t worry,” Akemi reassured, pulling you behind her. “I’ll protect you!”

Yet before she could even turn back around, the curse grabbed her, crushing her so hard she spat out blood. You screamed, channeling your cursed technique. 

Everything blurred, then. You don’t even know how you did it. It was as if the air around you warped. Red rope, what you instinctively knew to be the red strings of fate, surrounded you, Akemi, and the curse in a dome. You attacked the curse then, who had fallen to its knees in what appeared to be insanity-inducing despair. 

You rushed at Akemi, but immediately sensed something was incredibly wrong. The shape of her soul had warped. She spat out more blood. You couldn’t stop it; you didn’t know how you were doing it. You hurried to release your technique, but Akemi had collapsed. You wanted to run to her, but you couldn’t move. You could only stand there in shock, absorbing all the violence of the emotions she was feeling. She was going to die. You killed her. The last thing you felt from her wasn’t fear, but resentment. Resentment that she was going to die, resentment that she couldn’t save you, but the strongest of all, resentment you were stronger than her. She died resenting you. 

You lied to Satoru. You already knew what your domain looked like. Love was the scariest fucking thing to you. 

✧✧✧

“Call me mom,” Akemi’s mother had encouraged when you were first taken in. She was so warm. Her husband, too, smiling so kindly, always saying, “My daughters,” when it would’ve been so easy to use the singular form. 

They were your first thought as Akemi passed was that you needed to bring her back to her parents. Your second thought was that you needed to protect them for Akemi’s sake. 

When you brought Akemi’s body home, they screamed, snatching her from you. You stood still as you saw their souls quiver, felt the pain behind their screams. “It should’ve been me,” you cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

A part of you, that you immediately reprimanded for its selfishness, registered that they didn’t refute what you said. 

✧✧✧

Nothing was ever the same. You were an intruder in a mourning home, something they couldn’t get rid of. They didn’t let it on, but you could feel it. You always could. 

You never told the full truth, that it was your technique that killed her. You were too afraid that they’d agree, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve taken her place. 

It made sense to you, when the palm of Akemi’s mother’s hand made sharp, biting contact with your cheek. Three months after Akemi’s passing, you were in her room, touching the necklace she’d left behind. You’d barely raised it when you saw Akemi’s mother, eyes angry, rushing towards you. She thought you were stealing from Akemi. In your heart you believed that to be true. You had stolen her whole life. Akemi’s mother’s eyes widened when impact was made, shocked, it seemed, that she laid a hand on you. She cried and hugged you, apologizing frantically, but you weren’t upset. You weren’t even surprised. 

It happened more often, when the drinking started. They always apologized. You wished they wouldn’t. It just made everything feel worse. 

✧✧✧

When Yaga showed up at your door three years later, you weren’t going to go. You couldn’t leave Akemi’s family behind. You couldn’t fight curses; you were too afraid of yourself. But in a drunken anger, they told you, “Get out. Leave and take all your misfortune with you. You’re a curse.”

So, you left. And practiced. Started exorcising cursed spirits again. Using your technique. The more you felt their malice, the more desensitized you became. You didn’t love fighting, like Emi did, but you loved saving people. It made you feel like you deserved living. When Yaga admitted you to Jujutsu High, you told him as much. 

Love always left you for dead. 

✧✧✧

You liked that things felt so much lighter with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You could feel a deep-seated anger somewhere within all of them, but they projected such ease and genuinely liked you. You tried not to tune into emotions when you could. It was for your peace of mind, really, but also to respect their privacy. The guilt from living Akemi’s stolen life ate away at you, but letting it overwhelm would only make you a pain for others. You learned to compress that pain, shove it into some tiny sphere in your heart. It came naturally, given your technique. When you did that, you felt like a different person, someone who has never known what a curse love makes you.

You could be good. You could be happy. No point in letting the dysfunction chip away at you. 

✧✧✧

Satoru had a way of getting on your nerves. He had a bad personality. Still, the two of you got along well. You werestrong, after all, and kept up well with his banter. 

“Y/N,” Satoru cooed. “You gotta do more than that to beat me, yknow.”

“Hm,” You hummed, channeling your cursed technique. The look in Satoru’s eyes changed, going blank. Manipulating emotions during a spar felt like cheating, but if he was going to be so smug, he has it coming. In his daze, you land a good punch right in his gut.  Satoru snapped back to reality, then. “No fair,” he complained, nursing his stomach. “Using your technique is low,”

“You said do more, I did more,” You shrugged, fighting a smirk. 

“You make all the curses you exorcise fall in love with you mid-fight, too?” Satoru grumbled.  “Is that what it felt like?” You patronized. “I just reduced your emotional capacity to its most basic state. Easiest way to overwhelm an opponent,” you explained. “Didn’t realize you felt that way, Toru,” you teased. You lied. You did manipulate his love towards yourself, watching his dazed, lovesick look amused you. Sensing your lie, Satoru narrowed his eyes, suspicious. Still, he blushed and said nothing. You were the only one that could shut him up, not even Suguru could claim this feat. Cackling, you left to claim your ten bucks from Shoko. “I win! Pay up.”

✧✧✧

You liked how strong Satoru and Suguru were. You felt that they wouldn’t break if you hit them. 

Assigned to a mission together, the three of you headed to the train. Satoru teasingly poked at Suguru, who held back his irritation. 

“A special grade,” you murmured. 

“You scared?” Gojo taunted. 

“Terrified,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. 

“I just don’t know why they sent all three of us,” Suguru said. 

You nod. “Seems a bit overkill.”

Sure enough, before you knew it, the three of you were browsing the convenience store, buying snacks to bring back to Shoko. 

Licking a popsicle, you eye Satoru chewing on his. “You bite them?”

“You don’t? 

✧✧✧

When you wake up, you immediately notice the pain in your chest. Broken ribs. Then, an ice-cold pang runs through you, worse than the sharp throb of your bones. Nanako and Mimiko. Suguru’s fake. It all comes rushing back to you. Panicked, a million courses of action flood your mind. Yet, there was only one reasonable option. You had to go to Satoru.

<- Previous ✧⭐︎☆⭐︎✧  Next ->

LOLLL not rude at all this made me laugh

i reallly love pink but I also love angst (｢• ω •)｢

summary: the three of you were undoubtedly entertwined from the moment you met. your bond was holy. until everything fell apart. what is love when it can't save any of you?

content warnings: sad, major character death, angst, spoilers/deviations from hidden inventory/cursed child/Shibuya arc

word count: 2.4k

note: hi lovelies, here's a new series I'm starting, it's going to be a long one. lmk your thoughts!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

© 2024 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

When Suguru died you had the overwhelming feeling life was over. It might as well have been, you were undoubtedly sentenced to death and Satoru would never forgive you. You doubted he’d track you down, but it was a matter of time. When you found Suguru’s body, left respectfully no doubt by Satoru, your entire being seized up and your breaths drew so shallow it would’ve been better to not breathe at all. You weren’t there. You didn’t make it over when he died. Too late, like you always were. Did he ask for you? Did he think about you? You scolded yourself for thinking such selfish thoughts. Was he scared? Was he in pain? Was he sad you weren’t there? You should’ve been there, you thought as you lost your center of gravity. Falling to your knees brought you eye-level to him. Terror choked you at the sight, and your eyes blurred. The Suguru in front of you, your Suguru, was a corpse. Nausea. You wanted to vomit. He was so pale. Rigid. Dea—you couldn’t allow yourself to continue. No, no, no, no, no. You sobbed, or made the motion of sobbing---no tears came. You remained like this for a while, unable to get any closer but equally unable to tear yourself away, until something jolted you to consciousness. As much as Suguru lifelessness terrified you out of your mind, Nanako and Mimiko would find you any second. You’d much sooner die than let them see what became of him. You gathered Suguru in your arms, though the coldness revolted you and your revulsion brought you to even heavier tears, and ran off without direction. It must have been hours before Miguel found you trembling. You weren’t sure how you got back to the base. You just remembered tremors so violent they were the only thing sounding in your ears. When the shock wore off, all you could do was wail and moan in fetal position, clutching your face, digging into your skin. A voice in the back of your mind told you to check on Nanako and Mimiko, but you were barely conscious, and definitely not in control of yourself. 

You couldn’t dispose of the body. No doubt Satoru felt the same. You oversaw the funeral, despite Manami, his secretary, offering to handle it. Even given the tension between the two of you, you knew she was trying to do a good thing. Still, it bothered you she’d even suggest it. You would take care of this yourself. You had to. 

When you entered the funeral home, you were determined to stay composed. But at the first sight of the clerk, wearing such a consoling smile, you rethought your decision and almost called Manami after all. Suguru wouldn’t have wanted pity. Hell, you didn’t want it either. Why were you on the verge of breaking down just because a stranger seems sad for you? As you talked over plans for the venue, you couldn’t help but see the irony. For such an eccentric, maybe insane man as Suguru, hosting such a homely funeral felt wrong. It was what he would’ve wanted, you thought, had he been able to let the hatred go. 

When Suguru was buried, you went down with him. You couldn’t remember the eulogy you gave. You’d written it all out, but your eyes couldn’t quite focus themselves on the podium and you weren’t quite sure if you were reading off your script or sharing an anecdote or cursing out the crowd. At one point you stopped speaking and stared out at them in terror. They looked just as terrified. 

You’d noticed Satoru at the funeral. He was too far away, clearly trying not to join in, which made him all the more conspicuous. You knew he wasn’t here to apprehend you. No one else from Jujutsu High came, so clearly this wasn’t an incursion, though Satoru could probably take all of you on himself. Except to defend Nanako and Mimiko, you sure weren’t going to put up a fight if that was the case. But sure enough, he stayed amongst the trees, half-hidden, and left as you were giving your speech. He looked awful, but you were one to talk. 

You were as good as a husk now. There had been no time. There was so much you were supposed to do, so much you were supposed to fix. And now your life was ruined and his was gone. 

The only two things that kept you drudging through life were Nanako and Mimiko. They needed a mother. Suguru needed you to be their mother. So, you steeled your resolve, kept up a brave face, and guarded over your two daughters. With Suguru gone, you’d expected the group resolve to falter and splinter. You thought that might be for the best, for you all to run, take on lives you should’ve had, leave it behind, if such sins could ever be left. You’d just hoped family wouldn’t break. But they were still so determined to carry out his plan, most of all Nanako and Mimiko. The dismay and betrayal in their eyes when they caught your recission made you wither. You couldn’t leave your new family, especially not your girls, but you couldn’t go along with the plan. Suguru was lost. You couldn’t bring him back. You couldn’t save him. You never could. 

✧✧✧

When you arrived at Jujutsu High, Satoru was the one that caught your eye. Stunning eyes, effortless hair, a smooth but slightly nasally voice, and an overwhelmingly powerful presence, paired with a smirk that made your stomach twist itself into knots. He glowed. 

“This is Y/N. She will be joining you all from now on,” Yaga introduced. 

You scanned the room, nervously eyeing Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru last. You caught his gaze behind his sunglasses and his curious smile made your breath skip.

Suguru waved warmly. “Geto Suguru,” he said as he stepped forward, offering you his hand. Shoko nodded at you, giving you a slight grin. She struck you as uninterested, but you got the sense it wasn’t personal. Satoru cocks his head with a shit-eating grin. “Heya,” he followed Suguru, offering a hand. “Ooh, you’ve got a nice technique. You’re strong,” he smirked down at you. It irritated you slightly, as much as it made you blush. So casual. So flippant. So quintessentially seventeen. Completely not your type. And how did he know your technique? 

Sensing your confusion, Satoru added, a bit too smugly, “My eyes. I can see cursed energy.” 

“Hm,” you allowed. “Is that your schtick? That you see well?”  Suguru laughed. Shoko snorted. Satoru smiled too, completely unbothered, though maybe a bit more entertained. “A little more to it than that, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, Yaga left you with the three to get situated. Shoko offered to walk you to the dorms and the two boys tagged along. 

“So, what’s your technique, Y/N?” Suguru asked, so politely you thought about withholding an answer just to tease him.

“It’s a little hard to explain, but basically I manifest love into cursed energy.”

Satoru smiled knowingly and Suguru cocked his head, confused. Shoko glanced over, but you knew she didn’t really care. Her indifference wasn’t malicious. You liked her. 

“It might be a little easier if I just show you,” you smiled.  

Leaving your bags in your room, the four of you headed to the training grounds. 

When you reach the field, Shoko sits down on the bench. You look back at her, questioning. “Shoko doesn’t really spar with us, she’s more a support type,” Satoru answered. 

“I can heal other people with reverse curse technique,” Shoko corrected. 

“What???” You exclaim, momentarily forgetting yourself. “You can use reverse curse technique?? On other people?? How do you do it? Can you teach me?” 

“Don’t bother with her,” Satoru rolled his eyes playfully. “She can’t explain it to save her life.”

“Maybe you’re just too dumb to get it,” you shrugged back. “Hah,” Satoru snorted. 

Shoko smiled at you. “I’ll show you after this. Beat them up so we have more to fix, okay?” 

✧✧✧

You’d expected to have to fight your chosen family at some point. The truth was besides Nanako and Mimiko none of them ever considered you as such, and you couldn’t exactly blame them. Maybe if you stopped them sooner things wouldn’t have turned out this way. “I can’t let you all do this,” you say, channeling your cursed energy. A week after the funeral, the group was stumbling over next steps. With the heart of the group gone they’d all lost direction. Talks of continuing Suguru’s plan were in motion, though a few thought otherwise. This was your one chance to stop them. Manami scoffed, and Miguel looked unsurprised, though a bit regretful.

Negi was the one that charged forward. The power difference was too great. One strike from you could immobilize him, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to use your technique. You fought him with basic cursed energy manipulation, dodging his attacks so easily it made you want to cry. You’d hurt him if this went on for any longer. Nanako and Mimiko stepped in between the two of you. “Stop it! There’s no point in fighting here. We can’t turn on each other.”

A clap sounded. You turned, positioning yourself in front of the rest of the group. You could sense the immense level of cursed energy, and immediately took a fighting stance. Yet when you looked up at the intruder, your heart stopped. Suguru. It was Suguru. Alive. In front of you. For a second you were overwhelmed, with grief, sorrow, relief, love.“That’s right, Nanako and Mimiko, no infighting,” he smiled. Yet to you it felt more like a leer. It wasn’t him. Nanako and Mimiko, however, didn’t register the imposter. Tears welling immediately, they ran over to him. “Geto-sama!” They began. 

“No! Get bac-,” you shouted, but it was too late, they were in his arms.  “Who the fuck are you?” You shouted, readying your technique. 

“Wow…impressive,” the man in front of you sneered, façade falling immediately. “True love after all, huh?”

Nanako and Mimiko looked up at him, confused. Somehow no one had recognized the stitches across his forehead until now. Snickering, he undid them. You wanted to vomit. 

“No…” you muttered to yourself.   “Why don’t you join me?” the curse in front of you offered. “What I’m doing isn’t too far from what Suguru wanted, you know.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you said, lunging forward.

✧✧✧

“Ouch, that stings,” Satoru recoiled. “Your technique reaches the soul?”

“What, your eyes didn’t catch that?” You teased.  That must have wounded him, because he sulked. “I just didn’t expect soul-binding to work like that.”

“I don’t know if I would call it that,” you pondered, “It’s more like a binding vow,” 

Satoru rolled his eyes, closing the distance. He was holding back, clearly. From what he explained of his technique, one wrong move would blast you ten miles away. You supposed you should thank him for taking precautions, but landing attacks (albeit light ones) while he stuck to martial arts and basic cursed energy manipulation wounded your pride. You wanted to see him in action. 

“Everyone feels some variant of love,” you explained. “It’s the base emotion. Even hate stems from love,” you stated as you channeled another blow of your technique towards him. This one he managed to block with his infinity, you didn’t imbue the attack with your soul-bind (as Satoru put it). “I just feel what my opponents feel and reshape them through their emotions,” You dodged as Satoru closed the distance once more. “Reshape their soul, that is.” 

“Their soul?” Suguru questioned, resting on the bench next to Shoko after your sparring. 

“Most cursed techniques function on a physical level,” you explained as you spun around Satoru. “But love comes from the soul. A direct link,” you said. “On the most basic level, I can influence emotions, as long as I have access to the love they feel,” 

“On a more complicated level, if I can touch their soul, I can change it. I can even kill them on a level beyond the physical,” you smiled. 

“Do curses feel love?” Suguru continued. His questioning was distracting you, giving Satoru the upper hand. You dodged again. 

“The more conscious a being is, the stronger the love they feel. In some ways, my technique works best on people,” you answered, a dark look in your eyes. “But yes, curses feel all sorts of things. It’s nasty to experience through the binding vow, you know. But some of them are actually kind of pure.”

“You must be pretty fucked in the head to kill them while feeling what they feel,” Satoru leered. 

You turned to him, taken aback. “Hah?”

And in your indignation, Satoru swept out your feet, landing on top of you.  “I win!”

His eyes, bright and triumphant, inches above you, made you forget how to breathe. You almost forgot the sting of losing. Almost. Imbuing your fist with the binding vow, you punched him in the face. 

✧✧✧

It wasn’t Suguru. It wasn’t. But it was his curses. His body. His face. Staring at you murderously. 

“You can probably kill this body, huh?” Suguru’s face spoke to you. “Love made you weak, I see,” the curse sneered.

You fumed, preparing to channel your technique. But when you made contact, you froze. The soul you felt was the curse’s, but when you reshaped it, Suguru’s body was the one that changed. It resulted in a strange interaction of body and soul, which the curse immediately took advantage of. In other words, you were feeling Suguru’s love. 

Suguru. There wasn’t a person in the world you treasured more. He was everything. And he was here, in front of you, to be lost forever. 

You forced yourself to strike him, tears welling, but feeling Suguru’s anguish as you attacked brought you to your knees. 

For whatever reason, the curse didn’t kill you in your distraction, casting you away with one of Suguru’s cursed spirits. You unleashed one last half-hearted attempt to fight back. 

You were weaker than Satoru. You couldn’t kill Suguru, when it wasn't even him anymore. You couldn’t protect anyone. You couldn’t fix anything in the end. Love did make you weak, you thought as your consciousness faded out. 

START ✧⭐︎☆⭐︎✧ Next ->

Thinking about Gojo before his fight with Sukuna. He’s not scared, no, he’s not worried either. He took care of the elders and he trusts his students to get the job done. Not to mention he was going to win. He was. Still, he dials the number. Gojo lets the phone ring, stomach knotting in something that wasn’t quite anticipation but close enough to it. “Geto Suguru,” the voice spoke. “Sorry to have missed your call.” So courteous even as a genocidal maniac. And then the beep comes and Gojo says nothing, letting the voicemail buzz on. He remembers what Geto had set it to when they were teenagers, still a simple, “Geto Suguru,” with Gojo and Shoko’s chatter in the background as Geto shushed them. Gojo played that voicemail a lot that first week, holding onto their voices entangled as some semblance of proof those years together were real. “Geto Suguru,” in his voice, over and over. Though Gojo would’ve much preferred the real thing. By the end of the first week Geto had changed the voicemail. Making too much of an effort to move on, to be the first to move on, perhaps, but Gojo believing that, making himself believe that, didn’t stop the sting, the bottomless pain. Gojo called. Not too often, after the first week at least, but more than he should’ve (which was never). Geto picked up. Only sometimes, at strange hours, never after a fight. On peaceful, lonely Sunday nights when Gojo’s tears fell so readily staring at Geto’s contact the number practically dialed itself. Though, Gojo had always managed to wrestle the tremble out of his voice by the time Geto answered. Geto never called. But sometimes he picked up. Until he never did again. Two weeks before the night parade was the last time Geto took his call. And then…

summary: gojo broke up with you. what now?

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst, deviations from gojo’s past arc

word count: 736

note: hi lovelies, a short one for y'all today! Let me know if you want a part 2

© 2024 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

When it ended, it didn’t really. 

How could it have ended, when you were still texting paragraphs begging him to stay?

How could it have ended, when he was still replying to every single one? Your golden first love. Everything you ever wanted. 

What do you do when the thing you want the most doesn’t want you back? What do you do when he does and still won’t do a thing to keep you?

✧✧✧

When Gojo broke up with you, you weren’t surprised. It only takes so many fights for love to break. 

Except you still couldn’t breathe when you looked at him. 

You stayed calm when you asked jokingly, “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” and he didn’t respond. 

You stilled yourself when he sat you down and started his spiel. “I just want you to know that none of this was your fault. And it wasn’t because of this trip (wasn’t it though? You had fought the entire week). I just don’t feel we’re right for each other.”

You forced yourself to smile. Sadly, because that was appropriate, but smile all the same. “Okay,” you said. Because what else could you have said? 

There was the one thing. 

“It’s just, I love you,” you said, softly. You were resigned.

Until he made a face you’d never seen before. It was the most in pain you’d ever seen him. Oh, how much he still loved you. 

“I love you, too,” he said, eyes watering, face contorted. 

And then you had to hug him, wrap around him the way you did, fit him as perfectly as it had been the first time. You hoped he could feel the way your bodies were meant for one another, and the physical evidence would be enough to keep him. He sobbed into the crook of your neck and kissed every inch of your shoulder. You thought you convinced him. 

But then he pulled away and looked at you, and you knew you’d convinced him of nothing. 

✧✧✧

Everything you could have done flooded you that night. Panic overwhelmed you as the end set in. You fought for your love. You had to. You always did and he always came back.  You clung to him in the hotel bed, and you thought the fact that he didn’t force you out was proof that he didn’t really want this. He still loved you. You knew that. You just had to convince him that was enough. 

“I love you,” you said, over and over. “I love you.” And he said it back, every single time. So the two of you passed the entire night this way, sobbing and professing your love, holding each other so tightly your breaths caught in synchroneity. 

In the morning he got up before you. You clutched at the sheets and something in you emptied when all you seized was fabric. You knew he hadn’t left, not yet, because you had a flight to catch together back to Tokyo. But the fact that he wasn’t there to kiss you good morning cemented in your mind that he was already gone. 

Still you had to try. 

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and hoping for a different result. But you were in love. 

“I love you,” you sobbed. “Can’t we just try again?”

“Not this time.” His words should have snuffed all hope in you, but his voice cracked from the octave he chose, and you knew he was getting weak from your tears. 

“Please? Please.” You reiterated it over and over, crying so hard you felt you were drowning. 

“I’ll do better,” you said. A misstep. It gave him an excuse. 

“It’s not about you, though,” he went firm.  “We can do better, then,” you sobbed. You couldn’t breathe. Hiccups overcame you and it made you want to laugh as much as the frustration made you weep harder. 

“No,” he shook his head. So full of mourning. How could you let him go like this? How could he do this when he was so obviously in love with you?

“Please.”

“I’m sorry.”

You hated when he apologized. You hated that he meant it, and you hated how it changed nothing. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

So you were at an impasse, it seemed. You loved him, and that was enough. He loved you, and that wasn’t. 

What could you do now?

afab!reader

summary: you knew gojo was the one. gojo wasn't so sure.

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst, deviations from gojo’s past arc

word count: 1,226

note: hi lovelies, I'm back! I'm thinking of turning this into a series, thoughts?

© 2022 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

You’d known for a while Satoru was the one.

When he’d thoroughly humiliated the elders through cheeky comebacks and downright threats because Gakuganji made a remark about your way of dress off-duty.

When he called off classes for the day to host a hot dog eating contest, just because you were having a hard time with your sister getting engaged---fresh out of high school.

When he literally saved your life on that mission.

But what sealed the deal was this adorably clueless look on his face, set so vividly apart from his usual smirks and sneers, when he got daifuku on his cheek.

You were in love. And in it bad.

At first, you knew you were alone in your convictions. Satoru hadn’t ever prioritized love and you didn’t think you’d convince him otherwise. You told yourself it was fine, that you’d date for a few months, maybe a year and then move on for the better.

But you don’t move on from the strongest.

You couldn’t taste anything else once you’d had him. Nothing else held appeal.

You kept telling yourself it was fine. You were still young, you still had time to date without a future. But the smell of his aftershave, the way his hair curled behind his ear, his distaste for alcohol. It all drew you in, too deeply, and you wanted it too badly.

Satoru would stiffen when you brought up the future.

He was happy to make plans for Friday date night, but anything about revisiting the clan or moving in or god forbid, marriage had him giving non-answers and changing the subject at the first opportunity.

It was a stabbing pain, seeing the look on his face, and a few times after a particularly sobering conversation you’d almost considered ending it. But he was so sweet. By all other accounts he was a wonderful boyfriend. Chivalrous---opening the door for you, insisting on paying the bill, unfolding the napkin at restaurants to cover your lap. He genuinely listened. And yes, he had a slight habit of being a little too friendly with no doubt interested women, but he’d always own up and do better when you called him out. And you just clicked. So effortlessly, so seamlessly. So, you told yourself it was fine.

You had your whole life ahead of you at twenty-three. And you knew, any third party would tell you that you were being unreasonable. But you loved him. You were sure about him. Surer than you were about most things. Maybe anything. You used to be so cynical about marriage. You didn’t buy anything about soulmates or true love or the one. But Satoru was it for you. You just knew.

But the more you wanted him, the more anxious you were to hold on, to not lose him. You found yourself asking, “Are you going to break up with me?” As a joke from the outside but in truth a deep fear, seeking opposition or confirmation, you didn’t know.

And Satoru would always respond easily, with that trademark suaveness, “Not planning on it.”

You asked more and more often, and whether or not Satoru noticed, more and more anxiously.

And each “I don’t see that happening,” each “No” followed by a soft kiss sold it to you more. You stopped telling yourself it was fine. You’d be together forever. You were sure of it.

Things weren’t perfect. You two had your rough patches and fair share of fights. But you wanted each other enough to make it through anything. If the you from a few years ago could hear yourself, this madness probably would have been put to an end. But you loved him. You loved him in that cliché, film way that looks manufactured in hindsight. But it felt so raw, so pure, so real. You’d be together forever.

Soon, despite yourself, you began hinting. Rings. Nice houses. And even, though you were now appalled at the memory, babies. Not to be had then, of course, just for the far-off future. You could be patient if commitment was promised.

And for whatever reason, Satoru played along. He started engaging in talks about the future, even though he used to say he didn’t want to make these promises, didn’t want to plan so far. You had reminded yourself of what he used to say, that look on his face when you brought up plans. But for some reason hidden to him and you, he bought into it too. He started fantasizing with you. Of course, to you it didn’t feel like fantasizing. But he seemed to want it, almost as badly. You thought his face lit up picturing your lives together in the next few years. You thought he smiled a little wider, laughed a little louder.

He wants this too. You told yourself. We’ll be together forever. You said.

You told this to yourself like a mantra, and soon it became indisputable truth.

✧

“Hey,” you started, leaning on Satoru’s shoulder. You snuggled closer to him on the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulder. “Does it ever bother you that I ask about the future?” You said.

Satoru stiffened, and your heart dropped.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“You know, like do you not like talking about plans long-term?”

You were fishing for an easy answer, some artificial reassurance, a “No, I like it fine.”

But he paused. You couldn’t breathe.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to make promises.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. It sounded like you had let out a breath. A small cough.

“I mean, it’s kind of fun to fantasize,” he said.

You hadn’t realized how much the word “fantasize” bothered you. How seriously you took your “plans”.

“But I mean, I can’t promise what will happen in a few years,” Gojo continued.

You felt dizzy. “You don’t see us together in a few years?” You asked. It sounded like a whimper and you hated yourself for it.

“I just mean I don’t know what my life looks like in a few years.”

“Oh,” you said again.

There was silence. You’d stopped resting on his shoulder and you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You pulled the blanket off and fidgeted, eyes glued to your lap.

“…where do you see this going?” You finally asked. Quietly.

He let out a breath. “Look, I’m going to be honest, I’m twenty-four, I can’t make any commitments right now.”

“Oh.”

You felt oddly calm. “Um, thanks for being honest with me,” (finally, you thought).

“Sure,” Gojo said.

“So we have an expiration date, huh?” You asked.

Gojo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this is going to end at some point.”

“I mean, I’m not making a decision right now about the future,” Gojo said, you thought he shrugged. “I still want to be with you now,”

But he didn’t understand. That was the point. You’d decided on forever without a second thought, and he just let you. But sooner or later, when he decided it was time to experience life without you, he’d leave you behind. You didn’t want now if you couldn’t have the future.

You didn’t meet his eye. “Gojo, I think we should end things.”

It’s funny how the things you love the most can shatter in an instant.

I keep getting bot followers lately and I don’t know how to get rid of em!! Let me know if you have any tips T~T

summary: gojo just doesn't like you back (and why do you like him?)

content warnings: sad, angst, high school universe, reader is kind of stalkerish? (not actually stalking but tries to run into him a lot)

word count: 826

note: I might turn this into a series—Thoughts?

© 2022 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

“Why are you girls so mean today?” Gojo leers. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, smirk wide as he stares after the two girls laughing along with his teasing. 

“You coming tonight? 9,” Himari chuckles as Rin nods. 

“Mm, maybe, might be busy though, you know Yaga has that new mission planned,” Gojo laughs, easily, suavely. He’s enjoying this. 

You stare, at his wind-tossed hair, his bright eyes behind those sunglasses, how tall he is, how lean his arms are. Swiftly, you turn away. It’s only hurting you at this point. 

And you knew Himari and Rin. They were nice. Sweet. It was ridiculous to see them this way, as competition.

So you thank the cashier and sit down at the booth, watching Gojo walk out the door of the convenience store laughing with the girls. And as you fidget with your can of soda, you think for a moment that maybe you should move on. Just forget what it felt like, how your stomach lightened and you felt something in your chest for the first time in years when he smiled at you. When he laughed with you. You. 

You were special to him. You thought you were special to him. 

On your mission together to Kyoto, you thought you had bonded. And you did. He was charming. Funny. Suave, but dry, which only made him funnier. 

And maybe it was the idea of the whirlwind of it all, or the fact that you broke up with your boyfriend of five months the month before, or the fact that Yaga just hated him, but something clicked when you watched him yawn on the night shift. 

He could be the one. You thought. Stupid thoughts for a highschooler to have, and you knew that, of course you did. 

But could be morphed into is, and before you knew it all you ever wanted to do was run into him. All you ever did was stare at his every move, his every expression, his every well-timed smirk. 

It bordered on stalkerish. He probably thought you were stalking him. And you weren’t, really, you weren’t, it was just that with the two weeks you spent together you’d actually gotten to know him pretty well, and it was just too easy to predict where he’d go each day. 

So, knowing full well you shouldn’t, you pulled up the invite Shoko got to Himari’s party. You shouldn’t go. You didn’t know any of them well, you weren’t even invited, it was a recipe for disaster. Humiliation. 

So why were you on Himari’s lawn, dressed in the satin bodycon dress you told yourself was too short? 

What were you hoping to get out of this?

He doesn’t even know you exist anymore. 

Well, he does, courtesy of Jujutsu High. And yes, he does give you a high five of sorts when he sees you sometimes—you had held that so near and dear only to realize he did that with just about everyone in the school. But he’d taken two days to respond to the “hi” text you’d taken a week to muster the courage to send, and that was two months ago. 

So why did you still strain your neck searching for him in the disgustingly sweaty crowd, why did you find him almost immediately, why were you inching closer despite yourself, and why didn’t he look over at you once?

You sit down two seats away from Gojo, fidgeting with your can of coke. You shift in your seat once and once again. Maybe that’d catch his gaze. You cough, then stare at him, and he, noticing your gaze, turns. 

And then, he does the worst thing he possibly could have done. He smiles. “Y/N! How’ve you been? How’s the party?”

He’s the sweetest you’d ever seen him. 

And it’s so irrefutably platonic. 

Gojo is always a little rough with the girls he dates. Not mean, usually, but rough. He likes to tease. And oh, tugs on the hair, ogling smirks and unapologetic PDA are practically trademarked at this point. The smile he gave you, so sincere, so caring, so… friendly, told you loud and clear you had no chance. You couldn’t ever cross the line because the line wasn’t even there for you to cross. 

Nothing you do will ever get you out of the friendzone. And you aren’t even friends. 

So you break the pull tab off your can of coke and you drop it in the soda. You wouldn’t have drank the rest anyway. With no more effort to make conversation from Gojo, you turn away. And when you finally deem the timing right and gather the guts to look back at him, maybe try and restart the talk, he’s gone. Off into the crowd. 

You wish you didn’t see him immediately. 

And you wish he wasn’t kissing Rin, so roughly, and tugging on her hair. 

summary: gojo leaves as suddenly as he came

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst

word count: 248

note: hi my lovelies! coming out of hiatus to post this :) Was feeling a little sad so... here ya go, I might build on this later idk

© 2022 awarmcupofmilk

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

And it wasn’t that he went away. It was just that… it was so nice having him while it lasted. You sighed again. Gojo had gone in and out of your life in flashes. Quite literally, you’d blink and he’d be gone. And it was fine, it was always fine. Because you always had faith somewhere down in you didn’t know whether your heart or your gut that he’d come back. He would. You had something he needed. You didn’t know what it was but you felt it, as you were sure he did. Some inexplicable necessity that drew him to you. You to him. But then that tautly held, intangible thing snapped and he was gone. And you didn’t know if you needed him to come back. You did know though that he didn’t need to. Not anymore.

And you cried for a bit, at first. How could you not? You were probably in love with him. Stupid. But it wasn’t all that bad, it really wasn’t all that bad! You’d fallen down once again in the misfortunes of love. So, you cut your losses, dusted off your knees and got up off that unforgiving ground. No big deal. No harm done (Besides your aching knees that still shake, bruised and tender to the touch).

Better luck next time, your lips twist in not-quite-a-smile as you feel the glide and drip of long-held-back, or maybe long-awaited teardrops, oozing from the corners of your vision, down your face.

T~T

This made me smile so much~ You're so sweet!! I'm so glad you enjoyed the series and your thoughts on reader make me really happy, I love that you feel they're an empowering character (* ´ ∇｀*)