🌌 michu_ru 🌌

⭐️ Genshin Impact (GI)

Genshin Masterlist 1

🌌 Honkai Star Rail (HSR)

HSR Masterlist 1

🩸Jujutsu Kaisen (JJK)

JJK Masterlist 1 (NEW)

‼️ Rules for Interaction/Inbox!

✅ Allowed!

Fluff, Slice of life, romance, sfw stuff in general, slightly suggestive, light gore, moderate swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol, etc.

🚫 NOT Allowed!

NSFW, heavy/detailed gore, racism, sexist behavior, problematic behavior, incest, slurs, non-con, etc.

More SPECIFIC a request is, the BETTER!

In general, my rules are pretty lax. If you have questions you can always ask and I’ll tell you if what you ask is permitted! Please respect my boundaries!

Other than that I’d love to interact with all of you! So many of you have creative ideas that I’d love to hear! ❤️ <3

(Not that he’s any better once he got older by the way- he may not be just all legs anymore, less crude, and way stronger- he doesnt think he’ll ever stop crushing on you.)

Bet you five cents teen!Gojo would often vie for your attention in the most obnoxious ways possible- a few personal favorites include distracting you while you train so you get hit in the face, taking off with your stuff (you’re never able to outrun him, damn his long legs), and lastly his favorite- stealing your food.

At some point it becomes a habit- a strange yet familiar ritual of sorts. A tradition, even. Sometimes he takes something you’re munching on and he knows he wont even like it but still chows down-

The man has the audacity to bitch about it after stealing your grub too- leaning in dramatically and saying something like, “Eugh, gross-.. You actually eat this??”

“Dude. Spit it out then??? I swear. For the love of- Satoru- thats mine.”

Annoying? Yes, but also a totally super discreet ploy to get closer to you. He just loves your warmth. His body greedily drinks it up even on those scorching Japan summers where even being outside seems unbearable. He’ll endure the sweltering summer heat if it means he can spend another second near you.

He also likes to give you surprise tickle attacks and hugs from behind- Satoru is very handsy when it comes to you. Yes, that includes the summer where you’ll be sweating buckets. You may feel gross being all sticky, but he doesnt care.

If teen!Gojo could stick to you like glue, he would in a heartbeat. Sometimes you, him, Shoko, and Geto have sleepovers. Once everyone falls asleep after a eventful night of making all the horrible decisions in the world, he’ll stare at your sleeping form- a word that describes him then would be utterly captivated. He hasnt blinked in five minutes already because blinking is just a second wasted not looking at you and your beautiful face. Thats a crime.

He’d never admit he likes you, at least not without some.. outside intervention. Because lets be honest, Shoko and Geto cant take it anymore. No more. Any more of you and Gojo dancing around the topic of love and you two are getting slimed out by them for sure.

But hey! Its not like you two DIDNT end up together in the end despite the hiccups along the way. It only took you guys.. what.. a couple long years of playing chicken around eachother? Case in point- Satoru managed to bag you eventually (finally).

All it took was going out for dessert after a long life-threatening and arduous mission together, some stolen whipped cream from your dessert, and a clumsy first kiss.

title could totally be used for smut, but not on this account unfortunately. Fun fact, i finished this one on the same day as the Up, Down, Up! fic.. it so short though, can it really count as one?

You, the one other person aside from Robin that he truly cared about. Bothered to care about anyway- he learned early on in adulthood that relationships were a pain, they were fake, and there were always strings attached whether you like it or not.

There was no grand funeral for you when you were gone and never returned. Not even a day off to mourn. Only endless paperwork and another grueling day ahead. Sunday hated it. He prayed daily for you to come back, yet such prayers of desperation fell upon deaf ears. You were truly gone, weren’t you? Thats what Gopher Wood had told him. You were dead. You. Dead.

He couldn’t believe it. But there was more evidence of your death than the latter, which was you being alive out there somewhere. The dreams of Penacony can be incredibly turbulent in places- you wouldn’t have survived. You hardly knew how to fight, and oh he prays you died peacefully… no, you were probably killed. Killed by those.. things.. wandering in those accursed areas.

He had to move on.

He must.

Everyone was telling him to do so.

Even Gopher Wood. He had indirectly called you a distraction, and Sunday couldnt afford distractions in life. He must focus on the duties that come with his hefty position.

But you weren’t a distraction. Not to him, no, you were more than that- so much more. You were.. you were something to come home to after a long day of hard work. His light, the love of his life. Someone warm and cozy when it gets too cold and life seems too bleak. He cant just give up on you, not like this, not without doing anything because it’d kill him more than it already did.

And so at first, he had sent search parties. One after another. Nothing. And then he had tried focusing on work to drown out the noise that is you. Still nothing. Hell, he felt so guilty but.. he even tried forgetting about you. Putting away your things and the photos of you and your stupidly bright smile that never fails to make him feel better, and each photo stashed away into darkness felt like a direct stab to the heart when he looked at them- looked at you- and dreamed of what you and he could’ve been. His thumb gently traces the outline of the side of your face, the you forever frozen in that moment of time- in that frame.

“I couldnt protect you..” Sunday had whispered to himself that night, and suddenly began fearing for his beloved sister’s life. He couldn’t even save you, so what makes him capable of keeping Robin safe?

He couldnt sleep after that. Not that he ever slept well ever since your disappearance. Sunday dreamed of you sometimes too, when he was tired enough to finally pass out for once. It was torture and heaven at the same time- because he’d give anything to see you one last time- even if you were bloody and lifeless in his dreams, and in it he screams and shakes until his throat gave out. In the back of his mind he knows he’ll wake up more tired than before and with your bloody, lifeless corpse gone just like that.

He probably looked like shit right now. He needed to clean up- this was the most unorganized he’s been in years and it was scary how he could care less about it. It scared him, you and your death scared him too. He really loves you. Please come back. It gets too lonely at night. Please.

Come back.

But not like this.

He had told himself he’d move on a long time ago. The resolve to do so had slowly steeled over time even though it hurts him so much. Nobody can stay in the past forever, you had to walk out of it at some point. Its been hurting Robin too, and Sunday never wanted to hurt Robin.

Yet all that courage he built up to move on crumbled like it was nothing when he’s met with this.. this figure in front of him as he entered the dreamscape. Was that you? He felt the beginning of a smile forming and quickly stomped it down. You looked unstable, like you were ready to disappear again. Was something wearing your face? The thought of it made his blood boil in a way he didnt know it could.

However a part of him, small yet resolute, wishes it really was you- whispering; Please, please come back to me, love. Forgive me for trying to forget you. I love you, I love you so much it hurts.

He kept his face neutral despite him internally brewing up the largest emotional storm known to halovian kind on the inside.

Sunday got straight to the point for once however, “Who are you. Why are you wearing their face?”

“Their face? You mean my face.” This memoria-like version of you gave a small, sad smile. It mimicked the once living you perfectly, the same expressions, same everything. Small bits of memoria slowly chips away, flying free from your body.

“[Name] is dead.”

“Oh Sunny, my charming little dove.” Memoria-you slowly moves closer, only for Sunday to stiffen with a conflicted look. A hurt look. You pause when he shifts, treating him like a terrified animal ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Gently, you lifted a hand to his cheek. Was he shaking? “You look tired, have you been resting?”

Sunday shook his head, voice cracking. “Dont. Please.”

He cant do this again, gods he cant do this again. You were already gone. This wasnt the real you. This was just a.. a incomplete version of you preserved in the dreamscape, identical but fake. So why break his heart twice? You were too cruel.

“Sunday. Sweetheart. Whats wrong?” Your memoria counterpart asks, tilting their head. That version of you lets their fingers trace the outlines of his face, gently smoothing out his feathers when the hand brushed past a wing. “You can tell me, you always can.”

Sunday found himself subconsciously leaning into your hand, his body starved for your touch- even if this version of you is cold rather than warm.

“..How are you here right now? [Name]-”

“Shh.. its been too long. Lets catch up, alright? Everything else can wait first.” You gave him that warm, sweet smile that made him melt without fail each and every time once more. Sunday’s heart beats frantically as if it wanted to jump out of his chest cavity and into yours, never to be separated again.

“Sunday, my love. Take me home.”

And in an instant, the fight leaves his body. So what if the person in front of him was only a shadow of you? It was still a part of you.. right? Right. Okay. Home.

Its time to go home.

———

He clutched your cold hand tight as he led you through the more quiet streets. Even though every nerve in his body is in shock, his brain stubbornly clings to some semblance of logic. It’d be too much trouble if you were seen in public when you were proclaimed six feet deep in a grave.

You squeeze his hand gently, basking in the warmth you dont have. “Sunny, please be more gentle, will you? My hand is going to fall off at this rate.” You laugh softly as Sunday jolts back from whatever daydream he’s in, and lets go a bit. Only a bit.

“I miss these streets.” You say casually, attempting to keep him grounded when he seemed so far away right now.

Sunday looks at you. He’s been doing that a lot and almost ran into a lamp post twice now. “Not much has changed, has it?”

“Not at all. Your taste is the same too, I assume?” You ask, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I should hope so.” He replies rather seriously. Then he pauses, and quietly adds, “..I miss the pastries you used to make for Robin and I.”

“Then I’ll make some for you tomorrow.” You say, watching Sunday’s face light up ever so slightly. He’s clearly trying to keep his expression schooled in public, even though the way he’s holding your hand so desperately seems a bit uncouth. “Pastries taste the best when you arent allowed to have them, huh?”

“I am, its just.. not in large quantities.”

“I know, you’re a total sweet tooth. Maybe all the sugar you ate as a kid made you so sweet as an adult, he he.”

“..I dont think thats how it works, love.”

Sunday watched as your eyes scanned everything curiously. Every movement and behavior was so you, he cant help but fall for this memoria version of you all over again. It was like you were alive and in front of him once more. You dont seem to have any malicious intent, anyway. So maybe this was okay.

Everything he lost, gained back in an instant. Perhaps he should try his luck on a lottery ticket next.. err, second thought, maybe dont push the luck and be grateful for what was already given.

You let out a soft gasp, drawing his attention. “Hm?”

You point to a small unassuming crepe stand by the corner of the street with enthusiasm. “I remember this one! Aw its still here, thank goodness. Remember? We used to stop by it so often.”

“Of course. I’d never forget, you always got the same flavor after all. This stand was your favorite.” Sunday allows himself to smile at the memory. Does this version of you like the same flavor too?

“Lets get some crepes, since we’re already here!” You pull on his hand, and he freezes. This might not be a good idea. He hasnt come back here in ages, not since your death and the stand owner probably-

“Hey.” You say softly, making Sunday look at you. “It’ll be okay. Come on, lets go.”

He nods. He could never deny you something like this.

The stand owner looks pleasantly surprised when you two appear in front of him- if it isnt the the big man himself and his partner! He fixes his beat up hat and gives you and Sunday a friendly beam.

“Well if it aint my favorite lovely couple! Good day to you,” He nods at you, “Welcome!” He nods at Sunday, “Sir. Same as always?”

“Good day.” Sunday offers a polite smile, “Yes, please. Two crepes, same as always.”

You two walked away with crepes in one hand, eachother in another. The owner clearly had questions, but knew he shouldnt ask. Good for him, you dont mess with the Family anyway- that starts by not being too nosy for your own good.

As if a past memory of the two of you started playing on loop once more, you shamelessly asked to try Sunday’s crepe before even taking a bite of your own- just like you used to. Sunday had no idea what was going through your head when you asked the first time ever, but now he realized just how much he misses that. Misses you.

He lets you. You take a greedy bite, and he carefully wipes away the whipped cream that was on the side of your mouth as you chewed happily.

You had said once that his crepe would always taste better. He had asked why, and you had responded with;

“Because its yours.”

And for the rest of the walk back, you two fed eachother crepes back and forth like an ordinary couple. Your smile was worth everything Sunday endured up to this point, he thinks now that he’s in this very moment. Yeah, sounds about right. Everything.

That night, the bed wasn’t so lonely anymore for the first time in a long time. You and Sunday laid beside one another, bodies entangled together. He clung onto you like you’d fade away if he didnt keep you close enough. No words were spoken, there was only silence.

Only if this was the real you- warm instead of cold. Only if the person he’s holding wasnt just full of memoria inside. His heart aches once more, this didnt feel right. This whole day had been a breath of fresh air, yet it wasnt fresh enough.

“Sunny?” You ask quietly, the moonlight streamed forth from the fancy window, hitting the bed you two shared together.

“Yes, love?”

You frown, and Sunday’s brows furrow in worry. “Im different compared to them, arent I?”

“Pardon?” Sunday stiffens. That was the answer you were looking for- the discomfort his body could not hide.

“Thought so.” You knead his shoulders absentmindedly, letting him relax. “I’ll never truly be them.”

“Did I upset you, love?”

“You havent called me [Name] since you became fully lucid again. You know, once you stopped reeling from the shock.”

“[Name]-” Sunday began, and was that guilt in his voice? Because yes, you’d never be the living version of his lover. You’d always be half of what they were. You’ll never be the original.

“Truth be told, I cant stop loving you.” You say, touching yourself with your own hand just to feel your uncanny coldness. You speak before Sunday could ask what you meant. “My love for you is engrained in me. I cant turn it off.”

You move closer to him, your faces nearly touching. The vulnerability in this moment was suffocating. “I cant ever stop loving you, even if I wanted to. Because they loved you so much, and Im all they’ll ever be. Never myself, if I even have a self.”

Your lips touch. You kissed him.

“Goodnight, Sunny. Go to bed, I’ll be right here when you wake up. I love you, okay?”

And Sunday’s racing thoughts halted right then and there as he whispered a small, “..I love you too.”

He closes his eyes as he feels your breathing even out beside him. He dreams about you that night again- about you finally being in his arms once more and mulling over which one was worse in silent contemplation;

The fact that you cant not love him, or the fact that he’s feels perfectly content with the idea of you being unable to leave.

Tonight had been rather uneventful, which was nothing short of rare for the Nameless. You went to bed extra early despite not having anything important planned for tomorrow- it was that wave of drowsiness that hits after you sneeze six times in a row that made you decide to call it a night even though its hours before your bed time. A little nap before dinner was ready cant hurt, you had assumed.

Well, apparently that ‘little’ nap turned into full blown hibernation. You must’ve looked extra tired because nobody had the heart to wake you up for dinner. That, or nobody cared to come check- it was probably the first one though, in your experience.

You dont mind getting some extra hours of shut eye, except now you’ve just woken yourself up- your stomach is growling like crazy just because it’s skipped ONE meal. One. You groan, trying going back to sleep- fluffing the pillow and turning to your side- it doesnt really help. You realized you should probably do something about your empty stomach before it ruins a good night’s sleep. A midnight snack would do the trick.

You sigh, closing your eyes and rubbing your face before begrudgingly getting up with movements so sluggish it’d make a snail proud. Was leaving the confines of your warm and soft bed really worth it? The fridge better have something real good. Hopefully the conductor isnt awake..

You padded your bare feet across the cold, smooth floors of the Express- far too lazy to locate where your shoes were as you had launched them across the room before you went to bed. (Why did you do that?) You were on your way to the kitchen, still half asleep when you hear the phonograph playing.

Wait- no, that cant be it. You halt your steps. The phonograph should be off at this hour. Is someone up? Mr. Yang, maybe?

“A ghost?” You whisper to yourself, half in jest but somehow still manage to make your body shiver at ridiculous the idea.

At least you’re fully awake now, you thought as you narrow your eyes, trying to focus on the tune. It sounded like less like a phonograph and more like a piano. Ah, yes. The piano.. the one literally nobody ever touches because nobody knows how to play it. You dont either.

..That was how you found Sunday playing the piano in.. what, three in the morning? The newest member. He seemed a bit dramatic at times in your opinion, and he had tried to kill your friends (rough start, huh?), but they didnt seem to mind and then again- he had a silent melancholy to him that made you unable to hate him for long. He was soft spoken too. You shifted in place, entranced by the way he plays.

Didnt he used to be head of the Oak Family? You’d expect him to excel at doing paperwork in an epic fashion, not whatever this is. The way he plays captures your attention without even trying. From the way his slender fingers danced across the keys in the dark- his backdrop being the very stars outside the express window, twinkling as if giving its own applause endlessly. From the way his body follows the dip of the keys to the way he pushes the keys itself- sometimes feather light and sometimes hard with impact, all accompanying the flowing tune. He plays with so much raw emotion it’s breathtakingly beautiful. Every note was controlled and deliberate, yet each one came from deep within the soul.

So this is magic. How wonderful- this is magic in action. And Im here to witness it.

You had no idea you were holding your breath and that you hadn’t moved an inch from the doorway until Sunday finished his song. Neither of you moved, letting the moment sink in. Sunday hadnt even noticed you were behind him, far too absorbed with whats in front of him.

He barely stops himself from flinching when you start awkwardly clapping. His wing twitches, and you can see a faint blush of embarrassment forming in the dim lighting. Sunday turns around to face you.

“Oh, its.. you.” He says, unsure of how to greet you. It was an ungodly hour to run into someone after all. Had he been playing too loud? “Sorry, did I disturb your slumber?”

“Huh? No no- no, you didnt.” You shook your head at the misunderstanding. “I was just passing by- um.”

“Ah- thats a relief. My apologies, I tend to get.. carried away. When playing, I mean.” Sunday gave you a sheepish smile. Maybe its the lighting, but he looks impossibly soft. Softer than he did when he was still with the Oak Family, anyway.

You understand how he feels however. “Pfft. What’re you apologizing for, Sunny?” You wave your hand dismissively. “Its called getting in the zone- thats like, when you play best. Its a good thing if you ask me, not everyone can make their mind focus like that.”

There was a moment of silence, and you internally wonder if it was the nickname that threw him off.

Sunday slowly starts to nod, almost contemplative at first. “Hm.. getting in the zone. Yes, thats.. actually a perfect way to describe it.”

“Right??” You cant help the grin spreading across your face. It was one of those grins that only come when you’re talking to someone on the same page as you. “So you play the piano, huh? Finally.”

“Finally?” Sunday asked, puzzled.

You point to yourself proudly. “I play the cello.” You state. “Its hard to talk about music in depth with people who dont play an instrument. I finally found my people, yknow?”

“I understand.” Sunday nods again, a faint smile returning to his face. “Although, pardon me if this sounds invasive, but.. why are you up at this hour?”

“I’d ask you the same thing-” You quickly became self aware of your hello kitty pjs and just how stupid you must look right now. How embarrassing. As for the nail in the coffin- your stomach rumbles loudly as if reminding you of your original mission, earning you a curious stare. “I was just.. getting a midnight snack, ok? Is that so strange?”

“Not at all. In that case, please, dont let me hold you.”

“You arent.” Alright, you felt a little mean. “Want to come grab a bite with me? Since you’re already here.” You ask, and the halovian in front of you seemed unsure.

“Cmon. I do it all the time! The conductor wouldnt take it to heart even if they catch us.” You assure, which is a half truth. Pompom would definitely go on a rant about how everyone is supposed to be asleep by now, but that’s never stopped you from doing it again. You’re an expert snack thief too- you’ve only ever gotten caught red handed twice!

“Alright, then.” Sunday stands, smoothing out his clothes. “I suppose it wont hurt anyone.”

Maybe it’d hurt the Trailblazer since its their secret snack stash, but Sunday didnt need to know that. There was more than enough to go around regardless, so you’ve always considered yourself to be ‘helping’ the Trailblazer finish the stash off. How nice of you!

You found yourself absentmindedly humming the same melodious tune Sunday had been playing earlier as you munched on your stolen snacks.

“The song you played earlier.” You start, “It sounded classy.”

Sunday nods. “Thats right. Its a classical piece.”

“Do you only play classic pieces? I once knew a guy who did that- he insisted everything else was just a hodgepodge of random noises.” You grin.

“A hodgepodge of random noises.” Sunday echos carefully, a small frown gracing his features. “No, each kind of melody has it’s own kind of beauty, doesn’t it? And to answer your question, I do play more than just classic pieces.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow. He didnt seem like the type to do so.

“Is there something you would like to hear on the piano?” He asks politely.

You answer with your own question; “Think a cello will sound good with a piano?”

Sunday blinks. “You want to play with me?”

“If you’d allow me to. I’ve got a bunch of scores in my room- its been collecting dust. I just didnt feel like playing an instrument of any kind without anyone else.”

It was a personal thing on your end. You used to dream of creating a band of some sort. Playing by yourself in an empty room just made you feel lonely and sad.

“..Of course. I havent played with someone in so long..” There was a wistful tone in Sunday’s voice. A longing of sorts.

Robin..

“Same here.” You nod in agreement. Hopefully you havent gotten too rusty.

And so you two make your way back to the piano. You made a trip back to your room to grab your cello and a bunch of scores, wincing when you almost dropped everything in the wake of your enthusiasm. Luckily everything made it in one piece and you didn’t accidentally wake up the entire express crew.

You and Sunday sat together sifting through the different options before you. Honestly you forgot some of these even existed at all- a majority of them were handed down to you so they were crinkled and the ink on it faded with time. You knew quite a lot of fellow musicians as a child, it was what got you into music in the first place- being raised by songs. Several sheets brought some good and bitter memories.

“This one! I remember this one.” You cant help but crack a smile at the frail, ancient sheet in your hands. The corners on that thing looked like it had been thoroughly chewed by a dog, but the content itself remain whole- much to your delight. “This was my first score. Like. Ever. I was so excited when I got it!”

“Is that so? Do you want to play this one, then?” Sunday asks, peering over you to study the notes with careful concentration.

“Mm why not. Its not exactly written for piano though. You up for the challenge Sunny?”

“Please dont worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Then this one it is.” You held up the sheet, enthusiastic.

Neither of you played with complete confidence at first. A hint of waver was there, despite it’s subtly. As the song progressed and picked up however, the two of you fell into perfect sync- fell into the zone.

You wondered if the old hags back at home would be jealous- they’d kill to have a partner like Sunday. Because you quickly found out something about him while playing- he was rather accommodating. You liked to be creative with your playing- go off script a bit or add some flair. When you did so, he responded in like. It was a conversation between two instruments, the notes dancing around one another joyfully.

The wondrous sound of music filled the near vacant room, giving the place an illusion of liveliness and warmth. The cello’s sound chases it’s feather light piano counterpart, weaving and intertwining in the air- playful, almost, with how they responded to one another. You and Sunday played like there was an audience, like the shadows casted by the furniture strewn about were spectating your duet, holding their baited breaths all waiting for the peak of the song to hit and awe them all- make them speechless despite shadows not even being able to speak in the first place. You missed whatever feeling this was- you haven’t experienced it in ages- the exhilarating intensity of a truly remarkable performance on the grandest of stages.

At last the song comes to an end. Only then did you finally allow yourself to relax, exhaling slowly with satisfaction. Sunday lets his fingers rest gently on the keys, never pressing down on it- doing so hurts the keys, Gopher Wood had said.

“That was actually sick as hell! Hey, we make an awesome team..” You say, shattering the silent aftermath of the song. “..Sunday? What’s wrong?”

Sunday jolts out of his thoughts. Offering you a small smile. “Hm? Ah, its nothing.” He hesitates, then continues. “This just.. brings back some old memories, thats all.”

“Old.. memories.” You frown. “Good ones, I hope.”

He laughs quietly. “Of course, good ones indeed.”

“Did you used to preform or something? Dont tell me I reminded you of your superstar era.” You ask.

“Not at all, I dont.” Sunday shook his head. “Its my sister who preforms. ..We used to hold imaginary concerts like this.”

Oh. You thought. He must miss her with everything thats gone down in Penacony. Now you felt bad for asking. What a way to rub salt on a fresh wound, yikes.

“Um.” You start, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Your eyes scan the room. “Uh. Wanna.. go again? Do another one?” You jab your thumb at the scores scattered on the table not far from you.

Sunday offers you a gentle smile as if reassuring you that you’ve done nothing wrong. “In that case- lets keep looking through that pile.”

———

Since the express technically is either docked on a planet or floating out in the middle of the sea of stars, theres no fixed day-night cycle for the crew to follow solely based on the location of a ‘sun’. Thats why alarms were so useful- they provided a fixed time to wake up and get a new day started.

And speaking of alarm, it had just rung its head off not too long ago, so you’d know its about time everyone started filing out of their rooms.

Out in the hall, March groans and rubs her eyes. Her pink hair was disheveled with several sides sticking out as if she’d gotten struck by lightning on a particularly stormy day.

“Mmnnhgg… I couldnt sleep at all last night..” She whines, yawning.

Dan Heng hummed thoughtfully. He looked far more put together than he should given how early it was. “I thought I heard music last night.”

“OH AEONS ABOVE THANK GOD,” Trailblazer threw their hands in the air, butting in uninvited.

“ACK! Quit yelling! You’re giving me a migraine!”

“Hush March- like I said, I thought I was going crazy I kept hearing stuff..”

You and Sunday just happened to have overheard the grumbling ahead, and promptly turned to look at one another at the same time. He looked guilty.

You cleared your throat. “Whoops..”

“I suppose we played too loud..” Sunday winces.

“AHA! SO THE NOISE CAME FROM YOU TWO!” A familiar voice sounded from behind the both of you, making you and Sunday stiffen.

You gulp, turning around slowly. “..Good morning, conductor.”

“Pom-pom didnt get a good night’s sleep at all!! You two are being put on cleaning duty, I hope you know that!!” Pom-pom jabs a stubby paw at the two culprits before them, fuming.

“..I sincerely apologize, conductor-”

“ARGH!!! Caught.. red handed.. I hate cleaning.. sniff.”

So perhaps playing at night was not the best idea after all. Yet despite being in trouble, you and Sunday shared a quiet laugh. The conductor just hadn’t seen you and Sunday’s jaw dropping performance yet- thats the only reason they’re so grumpy about it. You’re a hundred percent sure!

Just you wait. You secretly thought. Oh, just you wait.

Guess what instrument i used to play :p

“No way. I dont buy you. He doesn’t even listen to principle Yaga.” Nobara crossed her arms skeptically, sitting across from you. Between you and Gojo? You were her favorite sensei.

Megumi, who’d been busy staring out the half-open window looking at nothing in particular finally butts in the conversation- “He does. He’s capable of listening, he just likes to be difficult.” He closes his eyes, sighing. Yuji pats his shoulder in sympathy.

You nod. “He does.” You echo Megumi’s statement. “If you don’t believe me, watch.”

You crank your body towards Gojo. He was currently across the room, sitting on one of the desks in the back, talking to Yaga about something he didnt seem to really care much about given how Yaga looked like he was about to pop a vein if he conversed any further with the man.

You called out to the white haired sorcerer halfheartedly. “Satoru, up?”

At the sound of your voice, he’s automatically standing up, his body reacting before his brain could catch up. He tilts his head toward you in curiosity.

“Nevermind, sit down.”

And down he goes without a complaint- no questions asked. Both Nobara and Yuji sat behind you in awe. Megumi only looked on expectantly- this wasnt the first time he’s seen something like that and he personally thinks he’s mellowed out around you two idiots to some degree.

“Actually- I change my mind, get back up again please.”

Gojo rises once more, and Yaga shoots you a puzzled look mirroring Gojo’s own.

Gojo tries to walk over, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. He doesn’t move, staring at your hand from behind his blindfold. You grin at your stupid boyfriend, “You’re like an oversized puppy, you know that?” Although the statement was more towards yourself.

Yuji and Nobara sat behind you giggling, and he saunters over to ruffle their hair. “Huhh? Laughing at me? What for? Im hurt!”

You lean back in your chair, “Not gonna ask what that was about?”

“I was just getting there, actually-”

“Get back over there- Yaga’s busy drilling holes into your skull with his stare.”

“But-”

“Satoru.”

“…”

“…”

“Fine.”

As Gojo pouts and drags himself back over to an impatient Yaga, you turn back to Nobara.

“See? Isnt he a great listener?” You say, fondness curling at the edge of your voice. Nobara raises up her hands in a surrendering motion mumbling a ‘yeah, yeah- point proven’.

“Only when its you!!” Gojo yells from across the other side of the room dramatically.

“Satoru! Focus!”

First time ever writing for jjk. Can you tell I have no idea how to characterize any of them but i just needed to get the idea out there. Writing ts right after my exams so my brain is double-fried 😋

Sunday would say he handled stress pretty well compared to the average person. He was the former head of the Oak Family after all, and with it came no shortage of duties and burdens. In fact, sometimes not being busy felt wrong with how packed his schedule usually is.

That, except such a busy life was long behind him now. Endless flowing paperwork, unending meetings, and the need to keep an eye on anything and everything was a familiar kind of stress. Somehow managing to get thoroughly slimed out every time he steps outside of the express was a different kind of stress. A life threatening one, he would dare say.

And poor, poor Sunday got caught in the crossfire of a fight again today. He looked utterly disheveled (which he hated) right now as he sat in front of you. Logically, he should probably suck it up- whats done is done, and those people throwing hands with reckless abandon didnt know any better. He did. He must be the bigger person.

That’s exactly what he did before he met you. Now, he finds himself gravitating towards you, seeking your warmth and comfort when he’s had a rough day. Your doors were always open for him, you had said, and he’s eternally grateful.

You were currently smoothing over his ruffled feathers gently, not knowing wether you should laugh or cry at the man in front of you. You felt bad, you really did, but his conflicted expression was also pretty funny.

“I dont understand.” He began softly.

You hummed, moving onto the next wing once the first was fixed. “Dont understand what, Sunny?”

“Why they fight.” He sighs, sounding tired. “Was it not a mere squabble? If so, how did it escalate into..” He cuts himself off.

His old self would have found certain delight in how easy it would be to provoke those strangers, to gently guide them onto the ‘right path’ by toying with their fury. Now, how he wished for peace and quiet.

“Dunno. But you cant expect everyone to be mature like you.” You replied, pinching his cheeks playfully.

He furrowed his brows. You pull him into a bearhug before he gets to speak again, and he doesnt complain.

Sunday lets himself melt into you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you as if asking whether he was worthy of your embrace.

“Stop thinking.” You said, sounding so sure as you squeezed him. “Im glad you’re safe, by the way.”

Sunday slowly nods, “..Alright. Thank you.”

You spoke again after a moment of silence. “I seriously think you need a bodyguard.”

And because Sunday loved to put up with your nonsense, he can only smile as you brighten up his day. “That I do.”

🐦‍⬛ Moze

The door to the flat creaks open. The moment you heard the sound, you already knew it had been a rough, rough day for Moze. He normally never makes a peep when he’s entering. In fact, he didnt even announce he’s back today- he simply set his weapons aside and beelined right for you and the couch you were seated on.

“Whoa there- easy Moze.” You gently chide when he suddenly wraps his arms around you without warning, being uncharacteristically clingy. He only loosens his death grip when you tap on his arm to signal he was suffocating you. “Bad day today?” You ask with a small sympathetic smile, even though you already knew the answer. You knew it the moment he returned home.

Moze didnt speak, but he gave a small nod. He looked tired and tense, and your heart couldnt help but ache for him seeing him in such a state. You carefully took his hood off so you could gently comb his messy hair with your fingers.

You’ve came to understand the man after spending years together with him. He’s always silent, but he learned to speak- even if its just a little- for you. On nights like these where the world went against him in every way possible, he goes mute. He doesnt know what to say. He doesnt want to. That and talking becomes too hard again.

He wants you. You and your warmth, the way you hold him, and the way you reassure him- murmuring how he’s more than just a weapon.

“Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Want to cuddle?”

A pause. Then a small nod.

“Lets go to bed, its really late.”

Another nod.

You had to essentially pry him off you, earning you a disgruntled sound from the shadow guard. Moze follows you like a lost puppy as you relocate yourself onto the bed, never straying too far behind.

And finally you hold him, silently bringing him close to you. “Shh shh, you did good today, Moze. You’re alright, you’re okay.” You whisper, your hand finding it’s familiar place on his head.

“Mm.” He hums, and his brows quit furrowing at some point.

Between your gentle reassurances and the head massage you’re giving him, he miraculously falls asleep- you lean in to feel his steady heartbeat, and found yourself closing your eyes too.

“Goodnight, Moze.”

☀️ Phainon

“Partner!” Phainon dives straight into you, who was laying on the edge of the wheat fields.

“Phainon? Whats up?” You tilt your head, but he was already nuzzling into you like an overgrown puppy. You ruffle his hair and he lets out a hum. “You’re smothering me.”

“Sorry-” He finally lets you go, opting to flop down right beside you. He looked tired- he must’ve been running around all day again doing errands. Not that its surprising. As soon as spring comes around, Phainon gets so much energy he doesnt know what to do with it.

He’s started almost five new hobbies and expects to juggle it with his increasing workload while still making time for everyone. It was a rinse and repeat cycle- and every spring he burns himself out at some point no matter what you say to get him to stop and slow down.

You could only sigh as he clings onto you now, ‘recharging’, as he dubbed it once. “You have bags under your eyes again. You didnt sleep a wink these few days, isnt that right?”

Phainon blinks. “Uh.”

“Phainon.”

“Is it that obvious? Alright, guilty as charged.” He puts his hands up in mock surrender but had the nerve to keep on grinning. “Well, there isnt much I could’ve done about it- I had a lot to do today! The kind fruit stall granny needed someone to help her move her boxes, and I promised Hyacine to redecorate the Garden of Life for the chimeras with her. Of course I sparred with Mydei and Trinnon wanted me to play with her- I was gonna wrap it up for the day but Aglaea needed me. I went to train a bit afterwards, and a few of the kids wanted me to help them pick fruit, how could I say no?”

“No wonder you reek of sweat. You’ve been running around like a headless chicken!” You scold, scowling.

Phainon looks at himself before scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I was planning to go to the baths first, but..”

“But?” You raised a brow.

“Its kind of embarrassing, actually.” Phainon’s pinky shyly intertwines with yours. “Didnt wanna go without you.”

“Because Mydei is busy?” You tease.

Phainon recoils as if he’s been hurt. “What? No way!” He nestles closer despite you grumbling about how sweaty he is. “I wanna go with you! Please, partner?” He flutters his long lashes, his pretty blue orbs staring right into yours. “Pretty please?”

You sigh. You had hoped today would be just you and nature and maybe a certain deliverer since he always tags along. The clamor of the baths wasnt appealing right now, but you knew Phainon needed rest. He needed this.

And with those big, wobbly blue puppy eyes staring right at you? No had long since cease being an option.

“Why are you getting up?” Phainon frowns slightly, hands chasing after you.

You pat yourself down, getting the wheat that had tangled with your hair earlier out. “To the baths. Come on, you need to shower stinky.” You help him up.

“Hmm. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah sure, lets go. Oh, and Im forcing you to relax once we get there.”

“Haha. You’re funny, partner. Im always relaxed-”

“..Dont even start with me.”

Sunday fr gets jumped every time he leaves the express its so funny hoyo pls dont stop tormenting him.., (i love him sm) ☺️