cw. a lil age gap, but everyone is well over 18 (Gojo and Reader are ~40, Yuta is ~30)
Imagine the way ex-husband Gojo's eye twitches seeing how Yuta Okkotsu treats you.
You and Yuta had only seen each other in passing over the years. In fact, you never even officially met until he was several years out of school on the account of your innate technique causing Rika to go haywire. So while there was always a possibility of you seeing someone after the divorce, Satoru would never in his wildest dreams have guessed who it'd be. He'd heard through the grapevine that you only started seeing more of each other last year.
Satoru has to see you at the biweekly joint staff meetings between the Tokyo and Kyoto schools, made especially awkward after not one, but two (2) post-divorce make outs. The last time he kissed you while you were fighting, you shoved him away and booted him out of the house using your technique. Granted, you kissed him back, but you're not exactly on great terms right now.
So, it's bad enough that he has to see you as much as he does. Even worse is now that everything's out in the open, he has to watch you fawn over someone that's not him.
"You're so sweet!" you cry when Yuta surprises you during your lunch break with takeout from your favorite restaurant. "Thank you so much, but you really didn't have to do all this for me."
Yuta places a hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the door to the courtyard. Adjusting the picnic blanket slung over his shoulder, he asks, "Why not?"
"It's so much effort," you reply.
"For you? Nothing feels like much effort," Yuta says with a cheeky grin.
Satoru just catches a glimpse of you covering your face with your hand - as you always do when you blush - and then the two of you are out the door. It takes all his effort not to gag at how cheesy that was. Never mind how genuine Yuta looked about it.
Of course Satoru had taken you out for lunch while you were together. All kinds of lunches. Mom and pop shops, food stands, upscale restaurants, you'd done it all. Your new suitor wasn't doing anything for you that he hadn't done.
Suitor. What was this, the 1800's?
Suguru appears at his side while he stares after you.
"Was that Yuta?" he asks. "I'm impressed. He's supposed to be at a week-long training in Ibaraki."
Ibaraki? The prefecture that's over two hours away? He came all this way to have lunch with you?
Alright, Satoru never did that. Not that he wouldn't have! He totally would've if he'd, you know, thought of it.
Suguru seems oblivious to the emotional bomb he just dropped on his best friend. "I'm starving. Let's hurry up and go eat. I'm good with anything except KFC," he complains.
It takes a couple tries to get his attention, but Satoru eventually pulls himself out of his thoughts. He comforts himself with the notion that Yuta would be gone by the time he returned.
Imagine that while Yuta himself may be absent, his presence damn near haunts ex-husband Gojo to death.
You're already back in the meeting room by the time he and Suguru return from lunch, only you now have a full water bottle (he noticed you pout when you drank the last of it earlier), a sleeve of oreos sticking out of your bag, and a cute travel mug full of some hot drink that you definitely didn't have before.
If Satoru wasn't so preoccupied with insisting to himself that, 'I totally did things like that back in the day!' and provided his ex-wife wasn't the woman in question, he'd be thinking, 'Yuta Okkotsu, I was unfamiliar with your game.'
Even more frustrating is how energetic you look. You have your notes out and are nibbling on an oreo, kicking your feet back and forth as if there's not another two and a half hours left of this meeting.
It's not that Satoru doesn't want you to be happy. Quite the opposite, actually, since he'd gladly give his life if he thought he could guarantee your eternal joy and safety. He's just not sure what Yuta has that he didn't. Or doesn't.
"What does she see in him?" Satoru murmurs to himself later, when a bunch of the staff members go out for drinks. You're at the bar laughing with Yuki and Shoko.
He regrets speaking out loud when Sukuna snorts from behind him.
"How much time do we have?" your coworker says with amusement. He slides into the booth, nursing his sake bomb with ice. It's a travesty of a drink, if you ask Satoru, but to each his own.
"Great, it's my least favorite person," Satoru gripes.
Sukuna seems to take great pleasure in Satoru's misery. "I think Okkotsu's earned himself that title."
Now, Satoru hates the taste of alcohol nor is it ever a good idea for someone constantly using a cursed technique to get drunk, but he can't bring himself to care at the moment.
He snatches the drink from Sukuna's hand and downs the whole thing in one go.
Imagine how baffled ex-husband Gojo is when his son delivers a cursed artifact to him instead of you.
"Where's your mom?" he asks.
Sen hands over the small box covered in talismans while his best friend, Nao, lingers by the office door. Rolling his eyes, he says, "We had a mission in the area, so Sukuna-sensei had us deliver this."
"Not what I asked you, kid," Satoru replies, leaning back in his chair. He gestures for the boys to have a seat, but neither move.
Nao, who has a tendency to stir the pot if he thinks it'll be funny, pipes up, "She's on vacation for a week."
Since when did you take vacations? And why hadn't he heard of this?
"What's she doing for a whole week?" he asks.
Nao replies. "Okkotsu finished his training and whisked her away to some onsen in Obanazawa."
Sen smirks. "That snowy place that looks like it's from Spirited Away? How romantic."
"Super romantic." Stir, stir, stir, Nao Zen'in.
Sen was not a fan of anyone trying to get close to his mom. He'd seen how the divorce hurt you, but so far, Yuta worshipped the ground you walked on, so Sen was at least willing to not be too hostile towards him if it meant antagonizing his father.
Sen and his friend quickly say their goodbyes and head out to do whatever it is high school boys do. Once they're gone, Satoru pulls out his phone and searches 'onsen obanazawa.' The results show Ginzan Onsen, a place with traditional Japanese architecture with a beautiful snowy landscape. But according to the reviews, though a wonderful and charming place, it wasn't from the best onsen in Japan. He wants to scoff at the fact that his supposed 'replacement' chose anything but the best for you, but then he sees where Obanazawa is, which is in Yamagata prefecture.
Where you grew up. Where you and Satoru met.
How had it never occurred to him to bring you back there?
When he mopes on Suguru's couch later that evening, he tells his best friend the whole story. Suguru's delicate features are twisted into a grimace the whole way through.
"Why are you making such an ugly face?" Satoru asks miserably.
"I've never been ugly a moment of my life, Satoru."
"You know what I mean."
Suguru sighs and clicks his tongue. "They're not official?"
"So she keeps saying."
Though reluctant to kick his friend while he's down, Suguru decides that Satoru needs to know so he can mentally prepare himself.
"He's taking her on a romantic trip to a beautiful resort in her home prefecture. They may not be official now, but after a trip like that, there's no way she's coming back without a label. Hell, if they were official, she'd most likely be coming back with a ring."
Hearing that, Satoru contemplates finding a nice spot in the cursed artifact archive and falling into a coma for at least the next thousand years.
The plot McThickens
Find the other installments of this AU [here] | Find the #gojo sentaro lore [here] | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]
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Jealousy
♡ Genre: Hurt/comfort, very fluff ending
♡ Pairing: Pro Hero!Bakugou x Reader
♡ Tags: Aged up, established relationships, dating
(Jealousy on both sides, it's all unfounded so don't worry! You two are loyal like dogs to each other)
Bakugou was the jealous type.
Everybody in the entire country knew that. There was nothing Bakugou hated more than imagining you leaving him for somebody else. You wanted to tease him about it sometimes, but his jealousy made him so distressed that you ended up comforting him instead.
Currently, Bakugou was still seething at the man who last flirted with you. The guy disappeared into the street's crowd under Bakugou's contemptuous gaze. His anger could only be distracted by you and your words.
"It's okay, Katsuki," you said, while hugging him. "I only love you. I didn't even flirt back, you know?"
"...I know," Bakugou said. He kissed you on the lips, somewhat possessively. When he opened his eyes again, he looked so sad. "One of these days I wonder if you're gonna find somebody better than me."
"Katsuki!" You glared at him. "I could never find someone better than you! You are the sweetest, most loyal guy I've ever met! Even if you do have a temper." You giggled, poking his forehead.
"Dummy." Bakugou rested his forehead against yours, his arm close around your waist. "Sorry. Shouldn't have gotten jealous."
"No, it's okay! Always tell me when you're jealous, always!"
That's how most of Bakugou's jealousy fits went. Over time, Bakugou became less and less easily aggravated, but he still had his possessive moments. But no matter what, he'd never take his anger out on you or try to control you out of fear.
Meanwhile, you rarely got jealous of Bakugou, mainly because you weren't the type but also because there wasn't much to be jealous of. Bakugou made it crystal clear to everyone what he did and didn't like, and you were one of the few things included on the "like" list. In fact, you were the only person ever included on the "love" list.
But despite Bakugou's poor reputation with the public, he still occasionally found fans who fawned over him. These fans sometimes made you uncomfortable.
One day, you two were out in public together in a quiet side path of the town, walking between various shops. Coincidentally, you caught some of his fawning fans exiting a store. Bakugou paid them no attention but you couldn't take your eyes off of the potential "predators" on your relationship. The fans soon passed but not without some loud screeching and several pictures taken without Bakugou's permission. Initially it irritated Bakugou, but you noticed by the end of it he was paying more attention to you.
"Are you jealous?" he asked, seriously. You two walked in the opposite direction of the fans, their voices getting less loud with more distance.
"Of course not..." you lied. "They're just random fans, it doesn't matter."
You didn't want him to tease you for this. This was one of the few times you had to deal with jealousy, and it took you off guard. It was irrational too, and you knew it. Still, you didn't always like being actively reminded that Bakugou could be wanted by others.
Bakugou wasn't having this. He stopped you in the middle of the side path you walked down, his expression focused.
"Don't be jealous, alright?" he said. You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted. "And don't deny that you are jealous! I've been jealous of you tons of times, so I can recognize that shit anywhere. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I only go for the best, ya hear me?" He started beaming at you, and you could tell he really meant it. "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff than go back on my promises to you."
That did warm your heart. He caught your lips turning up and his hand brushed against your cheek, but you still shied away from him.
"I just don't get why you chose me," you said. "You've got so many fans. Sometimes I wonder if there are better options for you out there..."
"I fucking doubt it. I have the best judgment and the best taste, so if I chose you, that fucking means something. It means you're as great as me... or better. Now don't go saying that negative stuff about my girlfriend. Or else."
"O-okay! Alright!"
You didn't know what the heck he could be threatening you with, but you didn't want to find out. Regardless, he still looked after you and made sure nothing the fans did ever bothered you. He would never tease you for your jealousy, because he personally knew how much it hurt. You were one of the few people he could trust, and because of that you two were dead loyal to each other no matter the odds.
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Caught Feeling - part 1
Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.
Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.
The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. I’m more the type to stay in, read a book, maybe watch a show on TV if I’m feeling adventurous. I keep to myself, blend into the background. It’s comfortable there. Quiet. Predictable.
But tonight felt different.
I couldn’t take another quiet evening alone, another routine night where nothing happened. Work had drained me, like it always did, and my mind felt clogged with the same old thoughts, the same old worries. So instead of heading home like I usually would, I found myself walking in the opposite direction, pulled by something I couldn’t quite explain.
And that’s how I ended up here, in this smoky, dimly lit bar I’d passed a hundred times but never stepped foot into. Paul’s wasn’t exactly my kind of place—it was gritty, loud, filled with regulars who all seemed to know each other. The kind of place where I would normally feel out of place. But tonight, I didn’t care. Tonight, I wanted to be someone else, someone who didn’t fade into the background.
The second I walked in, I felt the weight of the room shift. It wasn’t so much that people noticed me—most were too engrossed in their drinks or conversations—but I felt different. Out of my element. My nerves buzzed under my skin, that familiar urge to turn around and retreat bubbling up inside me. But I stayed.
Then I saw him.
He was behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. He had blonde hair, slightly messy and curling at the base of his neck, and a worn baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. But it was his eyes that caught me—blue, sharp, and piercing, like they could see straight through me.
For a moment, I thought about looking away, but I didn’t. Our eyes met, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, the kind of smile that made my stomach flip. He didn’t say anything, just held my gaze for a beat too long before going back to pouring drinks.
Something inside me stirred—a mix of nerves, curiosity, and something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wasn’t the type to flirt with bartenders or sit alone in a place like this, but tonight, I wanted to see where this could go.
I made my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool and feeling oddly aware of every step, every movement. The alcohol bottles gleamed behind him, and the scent of the room—smoke, wood, a hint of something sharp and musky—wrapped around me. He glanced up again as I sat, and that smile returned, like he was waiting for me to say something.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice low and rough around the edges.
Normally, I’d have some rehearsed response ready, a safe drink order to keep me grounded, but tonight I didn’t want safe. I hesitated, then looked him in the eyes. “Whatever you recommend.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, and his smirk deepened. “You trust me to pick for you?”
I nodded, suddenly feeling a little bolder, the nervous energy shifting into something lighter. “Yeah. Surprise me.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief, and reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”
As he poured, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He was the kind of guy who moved like he was in control of everything around him, effortlessly confident in a way that drew people in. He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine for just a second, I felt a small jolt of electricity shoot up my arm.
“Here you go,” he said, leaning against the bar with that same easy grin. “Let me know what you think.”
I took a sip, the alcohol smooth and a little sharp as it hit my tongue. It warmed me from the inside out, just enough to ease the edge off my nerves without clouding my mind. I wasn’t drunk—not even close—but I felt a little freer, a little braver than I had when I first walked in.
“Not bad,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own.
His eyes flicked over me, curious. “Good to know.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything, but the air between us felt charged. I could feel the pull, the chemistry building between us, and it made my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected. Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling over my words or retreating into myself, but here, with him, I felt different. Like maybe I didn’t have to be the quiet, shy girl tonight.
“So, you come here often?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too cliché.
He chuckled, running a hand through his blonde curls as he glanced around the bar. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way.”
Hank. It suited him. Strong, simple, with just the right amount of edge.
“I’m—” I started to introduce myself, but before I could finish, a regular at the end of the bar called out, interrupting us. Hank shot me a quick smile, one that promised he wasn’t done with our conversation, and turned to grab the man’s drink.
I watched him as he moved, noticing the way he carried himself, the ease with which he handled the bar. There was something about him—something magnetic. I’d never felt this kind of connection so quickly, and it left me buzzing.
As the night wore on, the bar slowly emptied out, but Hank kept coming back to me, each time with a little more focus, a little more intensity in his gaze. He’d serve another customer, laughing at someone’s joke or flipping a rag over his shoulder with effortless ease, but his eyes always drifted back to me, like he couldn’t help it. Each time he came over, it felt like we were picking up a conversation that had never really paused. It wasn’t about the words as much as the attention—his focus, the way he leaned in slightly, like there was nothing else in the room that mattered.
I felt the alcohol warming me, loosening my usual hesitation. The buzz wasn’t enough to blur anything—I was still very much in control—but it made me bolder. More comfortable in my skin than I’d felt in a long time.
Hank slid another drink toward a regular at the far end of the bar, then came back to where I sat, resting his hands on the counter. He gave me a crooked smile, a kind of companionable look that made me feel like maybe we’d known each other longer than just tonight.
“So, what brings you to Paul’s? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd.” His tone was easy, conversational, like he was genuinely curious.
I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”
He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the Giants game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.
He thought about it for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who likes peace.”
I smiled at that. “You’re not wrong. I’m usually more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”
“Let me guess,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, “you’ve got a favourite corner seat, always reading something, probably with a notebook you scribble thoughts into. And you drink black coffee. No sugar.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound surprising me with how relaxed it felt. “Okay, close. But I take a little sugar.”
His smile widened, and he tilted his head. “Noted. So what’s got you here tonight, then? A coffee shop doesn’t seem like a bad place to be.”
I glanced down at my glass, feeling the edge of vulnerability creeping in, but there was something about Hank that made it easy to talk. “I don’t know… I just didn’t feel like being alone tonight. Work’s been… exhausting, and I just needed to get out of my head for a while.”
Hank nodded, his eyes softening a little. “Yeah, I get that. This place is kind of a sanctuary for people like that. You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard over the years. Some people come here just to get away from whatever’s weighing them down.”
I looked at him, suddenly more curious about the man behind the bar. “What about you? Why do you work here?”
He leaned back slightly, glancing around the room as if he hadn’t really thought about it before. “I guess… it’s the people. There’s something about this place that keeps me coming back. It’s real, you know? Nobody’s pretending to be someone they’re not.”
I nodded, understanding that more than I expected. “I like that. People here just seem… honest. Raw, almost. It’s refreshing.”
His eyes flicked back to mine, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, it is. You seem like someone who’s pretty good at keeping things together. Like you don’t let people see the raw parts too often.”
I blinked at that, surprised at how easily he seemed to read me. “Yeah… that’s true. I don’t usually put myself out there.”
Hank’s smile softened, and he folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a little more. “Well, you’re doing a good job of it tonight. Stepping into Paul’s alone—that’s not nothing.”
I felt a warmth rise in my chest, not from the alcohol but from his words. He wasn’t teasing me or trying to flirt—he was just saying what he saw. And somehow, that meant more. “Yeah, well… tonight feels different. Maybe I needed something that wasn’t… me.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “Sometimes that’s exactly what you need. Something different. Something unexpected.”
There was a pause, and I could feel the quiet stretch between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like we were on the same wavelength, both of us enjoying the simplicity of the conversation without the need for games or pretense.
“You don’t seem like you’re trying to blend in tonight, though,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter now, a bit of a smile creeping back onto his face. “Sticking around all this time, you must be enjoying yourself.”
I tilted my head, a little smile of my own tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Maybe I am.”
Hank’s smile grew as he picked up a bottle and started to clean up the bar a bit, but he kept talking, his focus still partly on me. “You know, people come in here with all kinds of expectations. Some want to disappear, some want to be seen. What do you want?”
I thought about it for a moment, my fingers tracing the edge of my glass. “I’m not really sure. Maybe just to feel… different. For once.”
Hank nodded, wiping down a glass as he considered my words. “I get that. Sometimes you just want to shake things up, step outside yourself for a bit.”
I glanced at him, feeling a strange sense of relief that he understood. “Exactly. It’s like I just needed a change. To feel something different.”
He placed the glass down and leaned back on the bar, his blue eyes steady on mine. “Well, I think you’re doing a good job of that. You seem pretty different from the girl who walked in here earlier.”
I smiled at that, realising he was right. I did feel different—bolder, freer, more like the person I wanted to be, at least for tonight.
“Thanks,” I said softly, feeling a little more at ease.
Hank gave me a nod, his voice quiet but sincere. “Sometimes you just need a night like this, right? Something out of the ordinary.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, looking down at my nearly empty glass before glancing back up at him. “And I don’t regret coming in here tonight.”
He smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression. “I’m glad you did.”
By now, it was late, and the crowd had thinned to just a few regulars. The Giants game he’d been glancing at throughout the night was long over, and the bar felt quieter, more intimate. Hank wiped down the counter, tossing the rag over his shoulder as he looked at me again, those blue eyes dark and unreadable.
“You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.
I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I’d hesitate, second-guess myself, but tonight, I didn’t feel like that person. I felt alive. Bold.
“Yeah,” I said softly, “I do.”
The cool night air hit my skin the moment we stepped outside, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.
We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.
He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.
My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips moved to my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.
This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.
And I wasn’t about to stop.
His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.
I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.
I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”
“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.
“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.
I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.
He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”
The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.
The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.
But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw.
“Good,” I breathed, my hands slipping down to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under my palms. “Because neither am I.”
And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.
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I'm aroacespec (and honestly confused about where I fall on that spectrum, but I do know I'm sex/romance favorable) and tbh my relationship with shipping is weird.
There are some ships I look at and I'm like "how can you see this as anything but romantic" and there are other ships where I'm like "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" and it's almost always the total opposite of what the fandom majority's view is. For example, my Sonic "how can you see this as anything but romantic" ship is Espilver, and my "okay but why do we have to ship them, can't they just be friends?" ship is Silvaze.
I will say that something I've noticed is there tends to be a double-standard with allo people (specifically cishet people) when it comes to ships. You get a ton of "why can't they just be friends" with slash and femslash ships, but then those same people will ship a het pairing that look at each other in a single frame. I don't know if it's something that's more obvious to me because I'm gay myself (or even if it's more obvious because I'm aroacespec specifically), but it's weird to me. I choose to look at it this way: if this was a het ship with the same character dynamic, would people still say "why can't they just be friends?"
That's not to say aroace people are in the wrong for looking at a pairing and saying "can't they just be friends? Why do we have to ship them?" but with a lot of cishet people specifically, it feels like there's a lot of people perpetuating a borderline homophobic double-standard. I get it when it's something like Scott and Jay from Ninjago, but so many masc characters' dynamics are canonically given homoerotic or even just romantic undertones (a good example of this being, in my opinion, Sonadow; there's not an almost 3 and a half hour long Sonadow iceberg video on YouTube for no reason. As far as I'm aware it's the longest Sonic-related iceberg video on YouTube that covers exclusively official content) which is why people tend to gravitate towards those ships. I could do an entire analysis on why gay ships tend to have bigger followings than het ships but if I did this would get too long lmao. I will once again point to the Sonadow iceberg video though.
I generally use shipping to explore my own relationship with my aroace-ness, and usually I do that using characters I either headcanon as aroace in some way or who are canonically aroace, because I can relate to those experiences. It's kinda weird to me to see other aroace people acting like doing that is bad or wrong, because usually that's what people are doing, and even if that's not what's going on, fanfiction doesn't affect canon.
There is no right or wrong way to participate in fandom (unless you're harassing people and/or actively putting people in danger), no matter what you identify as.
Basically: People should be allowed to do what they want, if something bothers you that bad there's nothing wrong with blocking a person or tag.
(I might've gotten off subject a few times, sorry lol)
Okay, that thing about blocking tags inspired me to look through my blocked tags to see what ships I've blocked and here's my petty aroace thoughts on all of them without naming names lmao
Fanon het ship. They've never given any indication that they know of each other's existence. Her girlfriend is right there.
Canon het ship. Had the chemistry of two wet paper bags. Literally just shoehorned in there because god forbid any story exist without a romance subplot.
Semi-canon het ship. I'm mostly neutral about them. Just unnecessary.
Fanon mlm ship. Literally brothers?? I don't care that one of them is adopted, they grew up together?? As brothers??
Fanon het ship. I don't care what you call their relationship. You can call it professional, platonic, familial, just please don't call it romantic.
Semi-canon het ship. Again, completely unnecessary. God forbid a man convince a woman to become a villain without there being ~attraction~
Fanon het ship. She is 14?? And he is like 30??
Semi-semi-canon het ship. He did have a crush on her when he was, like, 14 but he's a grown adult now and she's the most lesbian-looking woman to ever exist and they're the most found family siblings to ever find a family
Fanon het ship. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE FRIENDS. LET MEN AND WOMEN BE PLATONICALLY MARRIED.
Fanon mlm ship. I personally see them more as brothers. But whatever floats your boat.
Semi-canon het ship. Just really shoehorned. I don't like the woman very much. I liked her more when she was allowed to be a badass without being a ~flirty badass~
Fanon mlm ship. Again. Adopted brothers. Gross.
Canon het ship. I've seen many things from this director. He's a creative man. He couldn't think of a way to move the plot forward without a smooch?? He couldn't create a series that didn't have an unnecessary love triangle??
Semi-canon het ship. The man isn't coming back for S2 and boy folly gee am I glad
Fanon het ship. Not my cup of tea. Just let them be friends
good lord I have a lot more ship tags blocked than I thought
anyway, this is your daily reminder to just block stuff you don't want to see and move on
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