mm_xi_x
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Summary
Victor learns Japanese while in Hasetsu. He doesn't tell Yuuri, and things get dicey when he overhears Yuuri and Mari talking about him in Japanese. Repeatedly.
(The subtitle of this fic should be: Victor Nikiforov really needs a hug. Luckily, he gets one. Eventually.)
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“No,” Victor says, skating up to Yuuri on the ice, “you have to push all the way from here, or you’ll never get the height you need for that axel.” He sets his hand on Yuuri’s ass, tracing the muscle group he’s referring to. “Not here.” He taps Yuuri’s thigh. He doesn’t know the words for the muscles in English, only knows how to show him.
Yes, technically he’s grabbing Yuuri’s ass, but how else is he to communicate?
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- English
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Bookmarked by mm_xi_x
28 Mar 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Those lingering brushes, the hugs they exchange before bed… They are both innocent and intimate at the same time, and whatever they might mean, they’re mutual. Yuuri reaches for Victor as much as Victor reaches for Yuuri, as if their hands on each other are a necessary part of the language they’re learning to share.
Touch by touch, they are building a lexicon of Victor and Yuuri that sits outside spoken language.
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Ten deals in death while Hendery embraces eternity.
Bookmarked by mm_xi_x
11 Apr 2019
Bookmarker's Notes
The city notices many years before Ten does. He finds their antics amusing, laughs off their lust. Hendery is still the young boy from the garden, one who cuddles up to Ten on their chaise lounge in front of the fire, nose buried in a book.
It takes time for Ten to notice, the realisation sudden and overwhelming. Hendery hums along with the marigolds, smudge of dirt on his cheek. He laughs, hair shining with hints of blue in the sunlight.
“My child,” Ten says softly, but the words feel wrong on his tongue. “When did you become so beautiful?”
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It’s a modest two-bedroom in the western suburbs, far enough from the bustling crowds to be affordable but still counting, technically, as Tokyo. They’re noisy before they sleep but quiet when they rise, shuffling mutedly out of the door for joint morning runs before bursting back into the apartment for joint morning showers. Shouyou cooks breakfast while Kageyama packs their lunch and gym bags, and they never share a goodbye kiss because they always leave together.
It’s warm and cozy and disgustingly domestic, and it’s probably everything Shouyou’s ever dreamed of.
Except, Kenma thinks irately, Kageyama doesn’t actually live here.
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Shouyou moves in with Kenma when he ends up in Tokyo for college. Kenma subsequently realizes that half the things in Shouyou’s boxes are actually Kageyama’s because he should have fucking known.
- Language:
- English
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- 18,015
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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Bookmarked by mm_xi_x
07 Feb 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Does it kind of feel like Kageyama’s already living there with them? “Yeah,” Kenma says. “It does.”
“You like it here, too, right?”
Kenma doesn’t have to think about his answer this time. Despite the exhaustingly high energy, despite the flagrant stupidity, despite the loud sex, despite having to clean up after all of their human emotions, despite how… them they are, Kenma likes it here. He likes being with Shouyou and Kageyama. He likes their them-ness. “Yeah, I do.”
Shouyou grins. “Good.”
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All Satoru can think of is the first year Fushiguro Megumi.
Megumi at the entrance ceremony, clicking his tongue at him, lip curled, when Satoru bumped into him while trying to catch up to Suguru, saying, Watch where you’re going; Megumi looking up at the second floor art room where Satoru was calling out for him and frowning and scowling; Megumi asking, while they lined up for curry bread, How do you know my name?, lip curled upwards, while Satoru laughed, We met at the entrance ceremony, Megumi! before Megumi left without even hearing his answer.
Bookmarked by mm_xi_x
17 Jan 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Satoru’s smile blooms like bruises—purple, green, yellow—on his skin.
There’s something soothing about Megumi, the way Megumi navigates his surroundings, the way he weaves and bobs around Yuuji and Nobara, runs along with them, and keeps himself grounded deep, rooted like an ancient, majestic, all knowing tree, in himself.
A primeval forest for Satoru to lay his whole naked body in, feel the wet grass, the cool soil, against his skin.
What did Yuuta say he was afraid of? Megumi not feeling the same way? But would it matter?
As long as Megumi allows him space in the corner of his room, space on his thigh to lay his head, space for his shoes by Megumi’s shoes at the entrance, that’s enough.
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midnight express by ceramide (StrawberrySpring)
Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)
03 Sep 2021
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Summary
Megumi Fushiguro was exactly the kind of project Gojo Satoru needed to distract him from his own life.
Chungking Express AU.
Bookmarked by mm_xi_x
22 Jan 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
Why was he doing this? Why was he here, sleeping beside Megumi again, cleaning his house for him and pretending to be hurt and wanting him to get over his ex but not making a move when he could, feeding his fish, spending more time in his apartment than his own, running away from everything that made him Gojo to a place that wasn't even his, desperately trying to carve a space out for himself in someone else's world that he wasn't even sure held anything for him?