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seiwas · 8 months ago

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₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring.

You walk along the street.

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into.

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops.

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?”

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils.

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them.

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique.

He pulls back, falling into step with you.

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.”

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement.

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?”

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with.

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering.

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.”

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh.

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely.

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat.

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it.

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet.

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?”

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night.

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better.

He doesn’t answer.

You stop walking.

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.)

Still, no answer.

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing.

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare.

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means.

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him.

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded.

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought.

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races.

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way?

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum.

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always.

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.”

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne.

This is bad for your feelings.

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.)

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold.

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly.

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you.

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly.

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.”

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day.

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder.

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter.

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place.

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching.

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?”

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.”

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.”

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too.

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it.

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.”

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile.

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.”

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that.

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again.

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique.

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.)

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.”

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not.

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood.

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more.

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter.

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16.

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’.

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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onlymingyus · 5 months ago

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Somebody [SVTHUB world tour collab] (teaser)

pairing; choi seungcheol x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), fluff, angst, romance, fake dating au

summary; When you need someone to help you out of a bind quickly, you pick the first person you see to be your “boyfriend”, you just didn’t expect it to be your single hot dad neighbor, Choi Seungcheol…

content warnings; single father!seungcheol, teacher!reader, seungcheol has a child (obviously), eating/drinking, jeonghan/joshua (implied relationship but not stated), betting metioned, alcohol, medical field - doctor!seungcheol, doctor!joshua, mentions cheating in past relationship, mentions death/accident of spouse - widow!seungcheol --- i am sure there are more, if there is anything important you want me to add let me know

smut warnings; unprotected sex (birth control mentioned), creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), multiple orgasm, lots of pet names, marriage kink, seungcheol carries the reader and is larger than the reader, manhandling, shower sex...again if I miss something let me know.

w/c; 25.2k and some change (623 extra words for patreon bonus) [1.1k this teaser]

svthub world tour masterlist

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading for me once again, i love you so so much. i really hope you guys enjoy my little addition to the svthub world tour and those on tumblr will join me in Barcelona for the bonus 💕

this fic will be released 7/15 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Forcing a smile on your face after a long day, you stand up as the bell rings and parents start to move into the room to collect their children. Taking your time, you note each one, telling them to have a good evening and that you will see them in the morning.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t enjoyed your day, but you could feel a headache behind your eyes and fifteen screaming five year olds was a lot for anyone. So as the numbers started to dwindle, you could feel the anxiety starting to fade from you.

“Hey, buddy!”

Glancing up as Matthew squeals happily, you watch him run towards a slender but fit man that you vaguely recognize. Perhaps he had been on Seungcheol’s walls in one of the pictures, but you didn’t have a name to put—

“Uncle Jeonghan!”

Ah, so this was Uncle Jeonghan that Matthew talked about so much. Picking up your clipboard, you furrow your brows, moving over to him and the man as you quickly make sure the man’s name is listed as someone authorized to pick up.

“Have a good day? This must be Miss Y/N that your daddy talks about all the time.”

Lifting your head from the clipboard, you meet the man’s eyes as your cheeks start to burn. Opening your mouth, you close it quickly as he smirks at you and ruffles the boy's head as he clings close to him.

“I—Yoon Jeonghan? If you could just sign for Matthew, since you're not his legal guardian and only listed as an authorized person, it’s policy.”

Taking the clipboard from you, Jeonghan grins as you seem to shy away at his words. He could see the appeal. You were beautiful and seemed responsible. You were exactly Seungcheol’s type.

“No problem; Y/N. Cheol had to work in the ER today so here I am to save the day. I honestly don’t know why he didn’t just ask you to bring him home.”

Scoffing in surprise, you watch as Matthew gasps and looks up at you like a new toy.

“That’d be so cool! Miss Y/N, can you one day? I can show you my toys.”

Not wanting to disappoint the boy, you give him a strained smile and meet Jeonghan’s eyes, realizing he was an enabler. Seungcheol should have warned you about him, but maybe he didn’t even realize how your first meeting with him would go.

“Maybe… I’m your teacher, Matthew. We play at school—”

“Well and his neighbor and his daddy’s girl—”

Shaking your head, you watch as Jeonghan bites his lip to stifle a laugh before nodding and holding up his free hand as a way of surrendering. Apparently Seungcheol had shared some details of your “relationship” with his friend. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but you had a feeling this man was the type to pull you out and back into the spotlight.

“Maybe one day, Matthew... but let’s not get our hopes up.”

Pouting up at you, Matthew just nods and moves away from you both to go get his things. Letting out a breath, you take back your clipboard and put it down on a shelf behind you as you and Jeonghan glance towards the small boy as he pulls on his jacket.

“He’d let you take him home.”

Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Jeonghan and shift on your feet at his words and the implication behind them. Noticing how you seem to nervously shift from foot to foot, Jeonghan smirks and glances down at his phone in his hand, answering a text from Seungcheol as he speaks to you.

“One day he’ll man up and ask you out for real. This fake dating shit—”

“Don’t curse in my classroom, please.”

A laugh slips from between his lips as he glances up from his phone to offer you an apologetic smile before nodding and continuing.

“Sure, sorry. As I was saying, this fake dating nonsense you two have going on right now isn't going to work. I can already tell you like him.”

Insufferable. That's how you’d describe Yoon Jeonghan. You had known him for less than ten minutes and already you knew he was going to be an issue in your life. Crossing your arms, you start to sigh into your words, a dramatic big breath, when Alex’s voice once again ruins your moment.

“Matt, buddy, let me help.”

Jeonghan watches as your head moves like prey sensing a predator towards the other teacher, who was now helping Matthew with his bag. His eyes move to his godson’s face as he grimaces as the man tugs on the straps, keeping them tight on his arms.

“He’s fine, Mr. Alex. Thank you.”

You still sounded like yourself, with that sweet tone to your voice, but even Jeonghan could hear the hint of malice behind it. So this was Alex, and now Alex thought it was okay to mess with Seungcheol’s son. The “fake” dating made sense. This man did not understand boundaries and used everything in front of him as an open door.

Stepping in front of Alex, you smile at Matthew and the smile transfers to the boy’s face. Jeonghan feels relief wash over him at the sight as you kneel down, adjust the straps back to where they were and then tie his shoe properly.

“I was just helping out a student, Miss Y/N.”

Oof… There was so much tension in this room that even Jeonghan felt like he was going to drown in it. Stepping forward, he clears his throat and offers his hand towards Matthew, letting him take his fingers.

“And while I’m sure she appreciates that, and the parents do... I don’t know you, Mr. Alex, was it? From where I was standing, some strange man was touching my godson, which honestly made me nervous for a moment. I’d be more careful; this isn’t your classroom.”

Standing up, you feel your cheeks burn under Alex’s eyes as he looks to you to defend him, but you don’t. Jeonghan had a point. Not every parent or guardian knew who all the teachers were, not even the students knew the other teachers. Simple acts could be misunderstood and while he was doing something to “be nice” and it was innocent, you knew there was another reason he was inserting himself into your and Matthew’s lives.

“Well, I do apologize for the misunderstanding. My classroom is right down the hall. I was just coming to see Miss Y/N. We are very close.”

Jeonghan just smirks at the man and shoots you a glance before looking at his phone and seeing a reply from Seungcheol.

“I’m sure you are.” Dismissing the man, he looks at you and smiles brightly. “Y/N, dear… Cheol asked me if you wouldn’t mind helping me with Matthew once you get home? I’m an awful cook.”

Opening his mouth to say something, Alex stops when Matthew squeals with delight and grabs at your shirt, begging you to come over.

Another point to you and Seungcheol.

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

#seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svthub.collab #scoups smut #seungcheol fluff #seventeen fluff #svt smut #svt fluff #scoups fluff #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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katerinaaqu · 2 years ago

Photo

✨️ 🧚‍♀️ ✨️

A possible redesign I’ve been working on for Cornelia’s guardian’s outfit.

A bit more “warrior” like, with tougher arm and shoulder protections and matching boots. The wings when not in use fold behind her back like a sort of cape.

#cornelia #w.i.t.c.h.#cornelia hale #earth guardian #w.i.t.c.h cornelia #w.i.t.c.h fanart #collab with artsofmetamoor

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ririkon · 10 months ago

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I came for a reason, It's a collab with Lebedek. She doesn't have a tumbler, but she does have Twitter.

https://twitter.com/Lebedek_Vika?s=09

There is a little background to this art, but it is translated from Russian, and everything can be a little complicated and unclear.

........

For travelers, the Multiverse was like an entrance, where even the walls had ears, which is why, due to carelessness, rumors could spread instantly. What Error and Inkoi immediately took into account, since there were threats in this regard from all sides: that the bad guys, that the star ones foreshadowed certain difficulties; other travelers; and the universes themselves even more so. Sooner or later, of course, everything will be revealed, but no matter how hopeless it may sound, they decided to continue playing for outsiders until the last, fighting for the universes for show, remaining on their usual sides.

The snow, which once lay calmly among tall dark spruce trees, was stirred up by red bones, stained by caustic ink, and branches broke under blue threads.

The frosty air was now and then cut through by the dangerous crack of blasters. An ardent battle was going on for one of the universes, which Error had designated for destruction and, no matter what the universe was, the experienced guardians of the version usually spared no effort in battles, remembering the past, turning the matter into sparring, not giving in to the opponent, but also trying to do without any or serious injury. Everything usually ended with someone’s loss, by which the fate of the universe was already determined. But time for this decision was not always allocated immediately.

Blood sprinkled the snow and Glyuche gave a strangled hiss, clutching his ribs, and the brush was instantly thrown to the ground.Error looked at his hand and there was a burgundy mark left on it due to the mixing of blood with ink. I didn’t have time to properly defend myself from the deceptive maneuver, so I exposed myself to attack.

Ink looked around, not noticing anyone nearby, quickly jumped up to Glyucha and helped him move a little further into the thicket, away from the empty space and random extra eyes, which he really didn’t need right now.

The artist fussily examined Error’s overall appearance and shrank all over, fixing his gaze on the dangerously deep wound. He touched the bloody, torn edge of his clothing, where cracked bright ribs were visible, and from under them the light of a glitchy blue soul was breaking through. It was dangerously close to the wound.

-“I’m sorry, I didn’t calculate the strength, I didn’t want it to happen like this, it seemed that you would dodge, as you always did,”- Ink rattled anxiously. “Please forgive me, let’s go home soon, I’ll heal everything,” he continued to worry, darting his gaze from the wound to his face. Glitchy.

But he no longer cared about the pain, he was more amazed at the reaction of his opponent - they had stopped trying to kill each other too long ago, so such fuss about his health made him embarrassed. Even during the times of enmity, there were similar cases when he was treated by an artist after battles to the point of death, but now it felt different after they became closer and stopped competing in the number of broken bones.This care on the part of the artist... he gently put his hand on top of the artist's hand and looked at him with tenderness. There was not a drop of anger or resentment in his gaze.

-"Wait, let's stand a little longer... like this, next to each other."

Ink looked up in surprise at Glyuche and chuckled quietly, calming down a little.

-“Only if it’s a little, then I’ll drag you home, I won’t let you bleed,” - he took Error by the hand.

Also a bit of work process~

#art #undertale #ink sans #error sans #errorink #artists on tumblr

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