#i had soooo much fun w the colour on this one

[wrenderart]

big jakt

[mclqren]

BALLERINA ★ LN4

PAIRING ✦ lando norris x fem!ballerina!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you play odette in the 'swan lake' ballet, and you manage to capture the attention of an f1 driver who has come to watch [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader plays odette in the swan lake ballet, and is british. she’s good friends with carmen, george’s girlfriend. the fc i've used is pdm.clara, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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liked by yourbsf, carmenmmundt, and 1,291 others

yourusername crazy to be beginning this journey, and this is only the start!! thank you to everyone who's supported me, can't wait to be odette 💗

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user1 you're soooo pretty!! 🩷

yourusername aw thank youuu!! 💗

user2 my family and i went to see it tonight and it was SO GOODD! ur so talented it's crazy ❤️

yourusername thank you sm, im so glad you enjoyed it!! 💗

yourbsf my best frienddd!! such a cutie fr

yourusername i love you so much its crazy 💗

carmenmmundt so pretty!!

yourusername love you carm 💗

landonorris

( caption one: tagging along + tags 🙄😘 )

yourusername

( caption one: behind the scenes 📸 | caption two: night two = over! absolutely insane 💗 )

imessages ( lando )

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt, and 2,008 others

yourusername life recently 🩰

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user3 you're so good in swan lake omg

yourusername thank you sm!! 💗

user4 I LOVE HERR

user5 okay lando norris in the likes hello??

user6 after he went to see the show with george and carmen as well?? this can't be a coincidence.

yourbsf my girl 🩷

yourusername foreverrr!

user7 im obsessed.

yourusername 💗

imessages ( lando )

imessages ( y/n )

landonorris

( caption one: in london for a bit! | caption two: fun times 😉 )

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, and 5,910 others

yourusername day off's been fun 📸

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user10 Y/N HAS A MANNN???

user11 STOP IT RN :(

user12 she's stunningggg

yourusername no you!! 💗

user13 she's such a sweetheart

user14 the pink flowers omg he knows ur fav colour

carmenmmundt i hope he's treating you right! 😘

yourusername so far so good 🤞

user15 ALL OF THE 2019 ROOKIES IN HER LIKES??

user16 oh she has to have a thing w lando.

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 956,221 others

tagged yourusername

landonorris when your girlfriend's a ballerina who can cook (somewhat) 😱❤️

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user20 LANDO HARD LAUNCHING HELLOOO?

user21 DID NOT EXPECT THIS WOWWW

user22 SHE'S SO SWEET AW

user23 LANDO NORRIS BAGS A GIRL

alex_albon absolutely no one had faith in you but it's nice to see you managed to get her anyway! 😊

landonorris by no one do you mean you and george?

georgerussell63 we had zero faith in you but it's nice to see you got the girl of your dreams!

yourusername GIRL OF YOU DREAMS AWWW LANDOOO

landonorris LOOK AWAY Y/N

yourusername ur def punching w me but its okay! not everyone is as good a chef as i am 💗

landonorris im a great cook?

yourusername hon ur not fooling anyone

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt, and 13,810 others

tagged landonorris

yourusername when your boyfriend is an f1 driver who sleeps whenever he touches a soft surface 😘😘

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user24 AW THEY'RE SO CUTEEE

user25 the last slide LOOLLL

user26 she's feeding us w these lando crumbs!!

carmenmmundt if he ever treats you wrong im right here as a backup option x

yourusername ur on speed dial dw x

georgerussell63 hello???

carmenmmundt on a more positive note DOUBLE DATE TIME WOOHOOO

lilymhe plot twist TRIPLE DATE TIME

yourusername I CONSENT YES

alex_albon they've met already oh dear

landonorris isnt this fun!

landonorris the last pic 🤨🤨

yourusername i had to include a picture to fit my aesthetic 💗

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[lewkwoodnco]

Can I make you a request about Anthony Lockwood based on the song “So American” by Olivia Rodrigo🥺😭

so american! - Lockwood x Reader

when he laughs at all my jokes and he says I’m so american oh god it’s just not fair of him to make me feel this much I’d go anywhere he goes when he says I’m so american oh god I’m gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up i might just be in la la la la la la la la la love

a/n: this fic has been rattling around in my head for a couple of weeks now and I was soooo double minded abt writing it so THANK YOU for the ask!!!!!! might not have written it otherwise heheh also I’m sooo proud of how my gifs turned out it was so fun to colour them all guts themed 😍😍 I hope you enjoy!! <333 also im having issues w the keep reading button AGAIN so sorry :(((

warnings/tropes: lockwood and reader are already in an established relationship, fluffy fluff, veeerrry small sprinkling of angst but happy ending! domestic sweetness

word count: 3.3k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

“Ready?”

Lockwood ducked into the car's passenger seat, grinning at the sight of her comically desperate expression. George and Lucy were fussing in the backseat, mainly because of Lucy’s seatbelt, or lack thereof, and they didn't seem to notice his arrival.

“Just wear the fucking seatbelt.”

"I'll be fine, George."

"She got her license at 16. 16! They just let anyone drive all willy-nilly up and down the roads in America."

Lucy gave him a look. He finally gave up and tugged at his own seatbelt sceptically, muttering darkly under his breath.

Lockwood & Co. was much more than a psychical investigation agency. Outside of their working hours, each member liked to work on some kind of passion project. After not having driven for over a year since she got her driving license in the States, she had decided to apply for one in London. Luckily, her employer had gallantly offered to provide her with the lessons she badly needed, having been the first of the three to earn his license. Well, employer and boyfriend. 

Her mother could hardly believe the news and, frankly, so could she. In a lot of ways, having an English boyfriend was vastly different from having an American one. First, there was a slight communication barrier, given how terrible she was with accents. Then there were the differing preferences - Lockwood seemed forever ready for a cuppa at any time of day, whereas the only kind of tea she really enjoyed was iced tea. Still, these differences left gaps for lingering gazes and silences that stretched on a little too much, and somewhere in between she slipped her hand into his, and the rest was history. 

Lockwood turned away to buckle his seatbelt.

"Okay, your seatbelt on?"

"Yes."

"Ready to go?"

"Hang on," came George's peeved voice from behind them, "you're not going to brief her first?" The two of them stared at each other blankly. 

"Uh, Y/N, do you remember how to drive?"

"Sure." It was one of those things you never forget, like riding a bicycle. Sure, it had been a while, but how hard could it truly be?

"Brilliant. Now-"

George pulled himself forward between the two front seats, straining against his seatbelt. “We don’t drive on the right side here. We drive on the left side of the road. Left. Left.”

She glanced at her rearview mirror which outlined the line of cars behind them parked on the left side of the street.

“No. You don’t say.”

Lockwood coughed, poorly concealing his laugh as he craned his neck towards the backseat windows. "Right, all clear. I think we can move of-"

"Parking brake."

"Er, right, what George said. Disable the parking brake first."

“I’ve never driven with a parking brake before.”

“So you push in this metal bit, like so,” said Lockwood, gently manoeuvring her fingers into the right grip, “and then pull it up a little, and then bring it all the way down.”

She tugged at it in frustration. “I -it’s not working.”

“Lockwood, did you tell her to step on the “

“Step-on-the-brake-while-doing-that-yes I was just about to say, George. I think I know how to teach someone how to drive. Unless you’d like to take over?”

"Oh, please. You couldn't pay me to sit in the front seat with that maniac driving."

She got her parking brake down, checked her mirrors, and they were off. For a minute there it was quite enjoyable, trundling through the mostly empty backstreets of London. Lockwood even tried to prop his feet on the dashboard before getting badly told off by George. He was forever propping his feet up at the slightest chance - at the Archives, at home, and now here. Maybe it was all part of some innate desire to be a wheelbarrow.

And so, things were going perfectly rosy, until she faced her first real challenge - oncoming traffic. As soon as the car heading towards them came into plain enough view, the four of them went into hysterics. The road was just narrow enough to make overtaking a little too tricky for her abilities at the moment.

“What do I do? WHY isn’t he slowing down?”

“Don’t panic, it’s alright. Stop a little to the side.”

She cursed, fumbling for the brake pedal her foot had carelessly slipped off of. Lockwood was nervously watching the car get closer and closer to them.

“Now would be a good time to stop, Y/N. Brake! BRAKE!”

They shot ahead sharply, swerving right sharply, narrowly missing the car passing them. Lucy swore loudly and George gripped the car grab handle above him as he started scolding no one in particular. 

"NOT THE BRAKE!”

Lockwood gripped the steering wheel over her hands, frantically trying to steer them to safety. With some difficulty, she shifted her foot back to the right pedal and slammed the brakes. There was a bit of a scuffle in the backseat, including George going off on Lucy in a very ‘I-told-you-so’ tone.

At the front of the car, Lockwood and she were still frozen, reeling from the past very exciting 30 seconds. Her eyes settled to where his hands were still resting on hers, tightly pinning her fingers to the steering wheel.

“Your hands are so warm.”

He peeled them off almost instantly, and she was sorry she brought it up in the first place. “Yeah, well, they’re panicking, just like the rest of me. What the bloody hell was that? I thought you said you knew how to drive!”

“I do know how to drive.” She bit back a smile at the sight of her 180 cm tall boyfriend trying to catch his breath with his hand dramatically splayed across his chest, muttering something about Americans handing out licenses to just about anyone.

The drive back to the rental car agency was much less eventful. After returning the car, they trudged back up the road to Portland Row. As they hung their coats up, she met his thoughtful gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He drew in a breath and hesitated. “You look nice.”

“Is this some convoluted way of patting yourself on the back for your fashion choices?”

“So you agree? You think you look nice?”

She groaned. She should have known no good was going to come from showing Lockwood Mean Girls. Still, it was hard to stay mad for long at a face like that. "You’re such a nuisance. A…delightful one, arguably, but still a nuisance.”

"You find me delightful?"

"That's your takeaway?”

"Next thing I know you’ll be saying you fancy me.”

“I’m literally wearing your shirt right now.”

“Luce!” He turned and started down the hallway. “Y/N says I’m delightful!”

As usual, the four of them reconvened in the kitchen a little after lunch for a tea break. Well, the four of them minus Lockwood, who had been bullied into fixing a plumbing issue in the basement. They sipped their tea and chewed their biscuits in silence. She wished she could bring down a little for Lockwood.

“Maybe I should go see if he needs some help.”

“No!” George nearly upset his tea, which made Lucy choke on her biscuit. “ Don’t go down there. You’ll distract him, he won’t get shit done, and that’ll be one more week without hot water for me.”

So she sat back down sulkily, brooding over her tea, until another topic of conversation struck her.

“Speaking of Lockwood -“

“- no one’s mentioned Lockwood-“

“-did you guys see the socks he was wearing today?”

Lucy and George didn’t even try to muffle their groans.

“They were very nice socks! They had the most precious pattern of baby ducks against a darling blue backgr-“

She stopped short as Lucy reached across the table to grip her hand.

“Y/N, I say this with love, but if I have to hear one more word about Lockwood, or his stupid bloody socks, I am going to ram a fork into my eye.”

She blinked, confused, and scoffed. “Gosh, you guys are so overdramatic. I don’t talk about him that much.”

George and Lucy exchanged a look.

“Okay, so maybe I like my boyfriend and I enjoy talking about him. Is that really so bad?”

Lockwood rescued all of them from the siege of George’s response by walking in right then, holding a wrench and looking a little worse for wear, but appeared very pleased with himself.

“Fixed!”

“Finally.”

Lucy frowned at the clock above the stove. “Isn’t that client meeting at Tooting today?”

Lockwood’s smile slipped right off as he glanced at his watch and rushed out of the kitchen, muttering furiously. His simple black leather watch which complemented his wrist so perfectly-

“Y/N! Time to leave!”

Maybe George and Lucy had a point.

Once their client meeting had finished, she and Lockwood stood on the pavement outside the house, looking for cabs to flag down. It was a balmy evening, and a cloudless sky meant they could enjoy the warmth of the setting sun beating down on them. She squinted down the road while Lockwood pulled something out from his coat pocket.

“For a job well done this morning and at the meeting…” he revealed two pieces of tightly wrapped square candies sitting on his palm. “A little treat.”

She stared at the candy for a moment, thinking hard.

“Caramel! I just remembered.”

“…what?”

“That’s what we call it in the States. A caramel.”

“It’s made of caramel, sure-“

“Plural is caramels.”

He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Changing an uncountable noun into a countable one? That’s just lazy.”

“Fine. What do you call it?”

“Toffee.” The vowels rolled off his tongue like silk in that English accent that had made it difficult to fully concentrate from day one. Standing next to him, watching him gently and methodically unfolding the golden wrapper, shining and glinting like a beacon of light…maybe this was all she needed to be happy.

“Taw-fee?”

He pulled a face at her exaggerated American drawl, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as he pried apart the stuck halves of the toffee. She watched him visibly relax as the first tangy notes hit his tongue, her own half close to melting in her palm under the brunt of the setting sun. He met her gaze and gave a faint smile, almost reflexively covering her hand with his own.

“God, you’re so American. So, which is it? Toffee or caramel?”

She bites into what's left of the soft treat she's scraped off her palm. It's warm and comforting and she instantly feels a little more happy. Maybe it's the candy, or maybe it's the boy whose side is pressed into hers. Love, she decides. It's love.

“How many cups of tea have you had today?”

As idyllic as the weekend had been, they were back to their usual busy routine which meant that their evening tea break was the first time they’d see each other since breakfast. She had just walked into the kitchen where Lockwood was seated at the kitchen table, pouring over a mess of papers with a cup of tea to the side. One of the first things she had learnt about Lockwood was his near-debilitating addiction to tea. Now, he silently took a sip from his mug and she gave an exaggerated sigh, settling into the opposite end of the table.

“You really drink too much caffeine.”

He quirked his lips into a lopsided half-smile -/ he peered at the papers she had spilled onto the table. “What’s all…” he gestured to her papers with his mug, “…that?”

“The Rotwell agents give me hell for my American accent when they’re on duty at DEPRAC.” She held up her list of words dolefully. “‘Least I can do is pronounce things right.”

He slid into the chair next to her, taking a look at the list. “Which one are you at?”

“Pri-vacy. Pri...vacy. Nope, can't do it.”

“Of course it sounds weird when you say it like that. Try using it in a sentence.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. If I have to say ‘pri-vacy’ one more time, I’m running you through with my rapier."

Lockwood choked on his tea.

"...or, you know...'pry-vacy' sounds perfectly fine."

She gave him a brief smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to do a Satchell’s run now. Lucy says we’re out of flares. Don’t wait up for me.”

It took her a decent amount of time to collect all the supplies they were out of stock on, yet when she returned Lockwood was still sitting in that same chair, staring at the same papers with worn-out eyes, distractedly tugging at his hair. He barely looked up when she walked in, mystified.

“You’re still up?”

He rubbed his face firmly. “I can’t…I can’t figure this out.” She took a closer look at the papers. There were reports dating back two centuries on the house of one of their upcoming cases.

“The investigation is tomorrow and I have no idea what or where the Source could be.”

“Well…maybe George’s figured it out.”

“If he did, he’d be home by now.” He hunched over the papers once again, his head swaying dangerously close to the table, and she was instantly reminded of how exhausted Lockwood had looked that morning. As if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. She started stacking some papers together.

“It’s getting late. We should head to bed.”

“But I’m not done yet.”

“You can continue in the morning, but right now, you need to rest.”

His features hardened like he was ready to start a fight, but it lasted all of half a second before they caved to exhaustion. He looked like a drenched cat left out in the rain, with his hair messed up and in disarray.

“George is still at the Archives. What kind of a boss would I be to go to bed now? What kind of a…friend?”

Lockwood leaned back in his chair, briefly pressing a hand to his eyes and then his forehead, his forearm trembling ever so slightly. In the dim light of the kitchen, he seemed more skeleton than Man with his malnourished pallor and the scar on his lip being carefully outlined by a shadow. She ran a hand through his hair, down his neck, all the way to his shoulder.

“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re human, too.”

He gave a deep sigh. “Fine. I’ll come in a while.”

“Promise?”

He gave a jerky nod. The tea in his mug had gone stone cold by then, and so she brewed him a fresh cup. He looked up, confused, as she placed it next to his papers.

“What about the caffeine?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and combed down the hair sticking up all haywire, as if she hadn’t heard him. “What about it?”

He smiled faintly and gave the hand on his shoulder a light squeeze, and returned to his work with his eyes humming with a little more energy.

Later that night, she dreamt that he was falling, and she was losing her mind trying to save him.

She should have known nothing was going to right in the job from the very beginning. None of them had been able to find much information on the house, and they were running late, so tempers were running very high. Even during the case itself, they were forced to split up and fumble through improvised plans. That was until she had stumbled onto Lockwood frozen at the basement door, looking down into the darkness in a strange way. 

Go back, he had said. I don’t know what any of us can expect in this place. So I’ll come with you, she had replied. Or let’s wait for George or Lucy. I can’t. Why not? It’s different. I don’t have the time to explain it. Different how?

You’re more important.

The look on his face was more foreign than the house itself.

Now they were home, back at Portland Row. Lucy and George had sensed something was off and retired to their rooms. Lockwood headed towards the kitchen, and she followed him. He hadn’t spoken a word since her face had blanched at the sight of him poised at the basement’s entrance. She tugged at the ends of her hair. She could feel an argument brewing and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Are you okay?”

Lockwood continued rummaging through the refrigerator for his routine drink of orange juice, taking his time to reply. “Don’t I look okay?”

“Yes. No.” He was terribly confusing. “Why did you say you weren’t important?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you were less important.”

He finally twisted the cap off the carton with his trembling fingers. The case had shaken all of them up, but for some reason, he was trying to hide it.

“Well…it’s not not true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’m a figurehead, Y/N. I represent the agency, that’s my name on the plaque out there, but that’s about it. You, Lucy, George…you’re the soul of the agency.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If…heaven forbid, something were to happen to one of us…”

Oh, he was so aggravating. She massaged her temples. She was going to punch him soon if she wasn’t careful.

“…the lot of you’d be better off without me than anyone else, and-“

"Oh god, shut up already!"

Lockwood abandoned the carton and straightened, and they glared at each other from opposite ends of the kitchen. “Or what? You'll shoot me?"

His expression softened only marginally when he saw how close she was to tears. She shook her head.

"If you pull another stunt like this...I might just have to marry you.”

“I’d have to marry you so that you can look down at your bloody hand and remember that there are people out there who would be nothing without you.”

“Y/-“

“Shame on you, Anthony J. Lockwood. Do you think George wouldn’t care about losing his best friend? Or Lucy? Or me? Hm?”

The tears had started to trickle down her face, and he walked towards her with a sympathetic expression, any and all rage long forgotten, and offered her his handkerchief. She could barely manage a weak glare before caving and accepting it, wiping away at her face. As soon as she was done, she wrapped her arms around him, and he enveloped her in a warm hug that smelled faintly of vanilla.

“That was a…a terrible thing to say, Anthony.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty shitty job then. I’m worried about you every day.”

She felt rather than saw his smile, though he could perfectly picture it in her mind - uneven and tipped to the right, but perfectly sincere.

"Also, I'm pretty sure that shooting remark counts as xenophobia."

"Yes, I'm hugging you very xenophobically now."

She buried her face into his chest and scrunched her nose hard. It was moments like these that only cemented her faith that she was never going to find somebody who made her feel the way Lockwood did. Seeing him standing outside the basement, she didn’t even need to think about what to do next. It had become incredibly instinctual - her readiness to take his hand and hurtle into the latest oblivion, blind as a bat. It didn’t get more simple than this: she just wanted to be wherever he was. 

It was him and her, and her and him - Portland Row’s cripplingly disaster couple, Mr A.J. Lockwood and Miss Americana.

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[wisteriagoesvroom]

Re: suits, there are hundreds of different types of suits, but the most common cuts are british, american and italian. I could see Lando (aka would love to see) most likely in an italian cut (slim tailoring on trousers and jacket, unstructured shoulders, light cloth (not colour but fabric) also looks very nice with an open collar and no tie...). Typical big brand names here are Zegna, Armani or Attolini, I personally love Kiton and Brioni as well, but just googling itlian cut suits should show some good results.

For Oscar, I would adore a (for once) properly tailored brutish cut suit (higher waistline for the trousers, more structure in the shoulders, tapered waist, thicker fabrics). Maybe even make it a proper three-piece bc ever since the wetsuit pics from Australia, I think we all agree that those curves need to be shown more often. Examples here are Ted Baker, Dunhill and ofc everything Savile row.

Tho if we keep with the Mclaren sponsors, Reiss does some great work as well. There's a double-breasted tuxedo jacket in this year's collection that I would love to see Lando in (then again tuxedos are a whole nother topic ...)

This got very long and is probably not very helpful but I love infodumping about fashion lol <3

i know you were self conscious about writing at length about this but all i have to say is: yes. here is some additional photographic evidence from my POV;

lando in snazzy italian tailoring, but to take the stylised vector a bit further:

exhibit a: asymmetric waistcoat with steampunk details

exhibit b: italian but with a fun pattern

exhibit c: open collar a step further, he could so rock a 70s suit. also just really need him to rock the gucci glasses with some shiny loafers like he’s sooooo got that vibe. im thinking how bruno mars and harry styles wear that kind of suiting sometimes

now to our elusive chanteuse f1 driver oscar jack. i feel like it’s, like what you described, about a classic style but with really fine details. good fabrics, simple cuts, plain colourways. below is pretty stylised but also this is rpf and it’s my playground and if we were claiming realism we should just put the rpf toys down full stop and i am not doing that!!

if taking a costume designer’s perspective too, there could be soooo much you could say with layering and pattern and contrast depending where we are in the story or plot. the idea of fic!oscar in a classic brit cut suit with tiny revealing details like a handkerchief (lando’s) or a button (a nod to a family member or a friend) is very dear to me.

the other option i like is a classic tux jacket with tails and crisp shirt and a a sky blue handkerchief, like idk that image also tickles me for some reason.

anyway so i had been thinking about a tailor AU- *loud scuffling noise as i try to put wayward au ideas back in their box*

p.s. oscar in dunhill... like u were cooking but u especially cooked w that one....

and tagging the people who might be interested in this conversation i invite y’all to weigh in!! @cx-boxbox @kichona-s and @jusst-you-race

[fainthedcherry]

2024 Human Art VS 2019 Human Art !!!!!

AS PROMISED, HERE'S A POST WITH SOME NEW ART!!!

And also an art comparison, just to see, how much I improved in drawing the 2 bois <3

I'm MEGA tired despite having slept after work, but I WON'T let that deter me from writing a description!! YAPNADO AHEAD;

FINN AND MARCOOO. FINNANMARCO. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE ACOUSTICALLY AND FERALLY YELLED ABOUT MY 2 FICTIONAL MEN WHOM ARE CLOSE TO MY HEART.

I'm SO glad, that in the new drawing, Marco finally looks like the twink he always was, but still enough meat on the bones to look NORMAL lmao, can't say that about the 4 other sketches of me trying to redraw this ref for years. xD (why yes, his wings took forever, why do you ask? /lh)

I'M MEGA SUPER DUPER GLAD, that Finn FINALLY looks like a chubby, wild bastard TOO, OH TOOTHPASTE MAN, HOW MANY HEARTACHES YOU GAVE ME OVER STRUGGLING TO DRAW AN ENDOMORPHIC BODY TYPE. BUT I CAN NOWWWWWWWwwww!!!!!

God this habit of loudly reading out my posts as I type them made me realise what a bad Schwarzenegger impression I do on accident bc I'm overly excited to post something after a month of silence SDKFSKLDG

ONE THING I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO. IS PUT EVERY DETAIL I NEEDED ON A BIG REF. SO I DID! I've drawn closeups of the boys's eyes, I've drawn Finn's tongue so that I don't need to constantly remind myself what his blush and flesh colours were sdfkldsgkl, I FINALLY denoted their heights, so people know that they're tall TALL dudes (and that Finn obviously will struggle w/ his lanky mfing legs, we LOVE giving a middle-aged man heart attacks once he reaches his 40's!!!)

ANNDDD ALSO SOME SIDE VIEWS OF THEM. The last side-view I had of F & M, looked REAL bad. Like, Marco's face looked WAY too stereotypically European (to my fault bc surprise surprise not many African people live in Europe so I had poor frame of reference but I've been fixing it via looking up images online instead, at least it helps but yeah, I have a hard time so far unfortunately💀), Finn's was just... B u c k e t. NOT LIKE HANDSOME BUCKET. BUT JUST BUCKET. IT NEEDED FIXING (fun fact I accidentally made Finn have the most attractive jaw shape for men according to beauty standards and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I JUST WANTED THIS MAN TO LOOK S Q U A R E AND THAT'S IT, MINECRAFT STEVE HAS MORE RIZZ THAN MOST MEN OFFICIALLY).

OH YEAH ALSO A CLAW REF AGAIN FOR FINN!!! His old ref looks too cool for me to give up on it tbh even as dated as it is sfjklsdglk, BUT I felt like I needed to redraw them properly.

FUNNILY ENOUGH A PERSON I COMMISSIONED SAID I HAVE SOME REALLY CLEAN AND NICE LINEART. I wish I heard that 5 years ago when I was really insecure about my bad lineart skills xD, I don't use lineart anymore nowadays outside of reference-drawings like these I don't plan to redraw in the next years unless necessary soooo yeah! They're gonna appear much rarer unless I go off and about making more ref sheets of all of my Sonc OC's sfklsdgsdfksdg

This drawing took 5 days to make btw. Not the hours spent on this LOL. 5 days of my life I'll never get back tho bc I care too much about my babies and I feel they deserve proper refs sdfklsdglk

WHAT ELSE SHOULD I MENTION.....HOPEFULLY I PLAN TO DRAW MORE HUMAN REFS IN THE FUTURE INSTEAD OF STAY IN MY COMFORT ZONE OF SONIC OCS ONLY. I for years wasn't confident in my ability to draw humans, but I can do so NOW at least!!!!!!!!!! Even if I'm like...3 years too late to how I wish my art looked back then already dsklfdsg, I have some high standards I need to continue to knock down as my 2024 resolution sdfklsdg

^IT'S BEEN WORKING THOUGH AS YOU CAN TELL BC I'VE BEEN UPLOADING SOME BAD DOODLES AND SKETCHES, BEEN DRAWING MORE GARBAGE AND BECAME MORE INVOLVED IN MY BELOVED FANDOMS. I wanna continue doing so! It was the most fun I've had with art ever. I hope to properly meet more fandoms I left in the past bc I thought it'd be embarrassing to share my passion for a franchise back then. I EMBRACE THE CRINGE NOW AS AN ADULT AT LEAST EVEN IF 7 YEARS TOO LATE ON THAT FRONT TOO. We all age and mature ig but I just become more silly year by year,,, c:

Oh yeah if you also see this btw lemme know, whether the new watermark tiles are subtle enough to not be noticed!!!! I know, watermarks are annoying and nobody likes them, but ever since AI invasions, I REFUSE to put my work online without ANY form of proof that somebody took it from my page. I just want people to stop lying on the internet for cloud and pick up a pencil. It's not that hard smfh. The only time I could excuse AI art is w/ amputees man. That's the only time I could empathise with someone, who wants to be an artist but LITERALLY can't bc they got dealt a bad hand in life. I digress my AI hate can be rambled about some other day, I know I love yapping and writing essays about THAT topic for sure sfklsdklg

I chose to post this ref to my Tumblr first tho, bc I still wanna work on my drawing of Abbacchio,,,, he is quite dear to me and I'd love to put effort into a doodle of him that won't take too long. Like 4 hours or 5 hours tops. I still have yet to figure out, if his cute star shape on his head is a hat or part of his hair. Bc I CAN'T TELL TBH AND I'VE BEEN DRAWING IT AS PART OF HIS HAIR PATTERN BUT I THINK IT'S A HAT NOW EVER SINCE I LOOKED AT MORE ASBR CAPS OF HIM I TOOK FOR REFERENCES. xD

Also another side-note, but I've ofc reduced down the lankiness of the dudes I draw™, but I in result wanted to sliiightly make larger feet/hands bc my Sonic phase will continue to possess me 'til the end of time /hj, if you also wanna lemme know what you think on that, bls do! I am messing about with stylization still. I am finding my footing with stylizing humans sOOO yeah!!!! I hope to some day be satisfied with my artstyle change of '24! So far it's been really rewarding and eye-opening to me and my journey as an artist for my 7 years of existing on the 'net w/ my silly goobers I like to scream about to in the void <3

Once again, tagnado also incoming below bc I dunno how to properly tag my art so lemme throw in things I THINK are relevant to this post sdkldsgkl

See you hopefully tomorrow w/ a lil doodle dump if I get around to it!!!! : D

[borom1r]

hmmm 3, 5, 6, 11, 14, 20, 22, 26, 38, 40 for the fun questions meme <3

ooooooo ok these’ll b inchresting :3

3- 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

th lotr trilogy (duh), I Saw the TV Glow, The Last Unicorn :3

5- what made you start your blog?

THIS blog? suicide bait on my old blog :3

tumblr in general? a friend showed it to me in high school n i made one n my life was irreversibly changed lmfao

6- what’s the best and worst part of being online/a creator?

ATTENTION. double edged sword. like ok i try not to let myself care abt attention and try to be rlly careful now abt who i interact with but at the same time it rlly is validating when things Get Attention. some of my favorite fics have little to no engagement :( n like yea its not healthy to create FOR engagement (fast track 2 burnout) but its also like very disheartening to put time n effort n passion into sth only for it to fizzle out in the void

but whatever. ill make weird art forever

11- what do you consider to be romance?

THIS IS SO FUNNY 2 GET bc soooo much recently has made me reevaluate like. how I perceive this lollllll

anyways short answer: idfk man!!!!!!! close friendships n romance r incredibly cloudy in my mind cuz ive got a bad case of dogbrain!!

long answer is i just don’t quantify that stuff the way neurotypical ppl do :3 ties into th autism + nonhumanity. i also think cis ppl being attracted to me is gross lol. ideal romance for me is bein held n tended to like a noble knight tends their sword. I feel love like a dog feels abt their human!!! dogbrained!!! romance is being a guard dog, being a Really Good Boy but just soooo disconnected from like. idk allosexual/neurotypical quantifiers of “romance” for me lol

+ i don’t use th label rlly but im def somewhere on th ace spectrum lol like physical intimacy is only rlly “safe” conceptually when its completely disconnected from th realm of possibility. like thirsting over celebrities or like th knight i have a crush on. + cis ppl desiring me is rlly like.. ew 😒 don’t look @ me anymore man

14- what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

UM. funnily enough im gonna do th Big Thing this summer :3 im going 2 th renaissance festival shirtless this year now tht im post op

s’gonna be scary showin off my scars but i rlly wanna go all out n celebrate finally havin top surgery. like im alive!! despite everything im alive n im happy ^_^ so cis people be damned, im gonna run around like a lil wolfguy for the first weekend!!!!!

20- favourite things about the night?

i love the moon :3

i also love how still n quiet things get

22- say 3 things about someone you love

ITS SO BRAVE!!!!!!!!! ITS LITERALLY THE FUNNIEST GUY I KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO PROUD OF IT FOR HOW MUCH WORK IT DOES TO BETTER OUR COMMUNITY N PROUD OF IT FOR PURSUING TRANSITION + CANT WAIT TO SHARE MORE TRANS JOY W/ IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(hiiiiiii Ly hehe!!)

26- fave colour and why?

when i was a kid my favorite colors were neon yellow n neon pink :3 they still kinda are but now i usually stick to like lime green or bright red paired w black. forest green + dark blue r gr8 too

38- fave song at the moment?

DONT ASK ME TO PICK JUST ONE???????

here r some I’ve had on loop lately: Far Away (Roadside Ghost), Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl (Broken Social Scene), I’m Already Gone (Baroness), Sex for Homework (MSI)

40- any bad habits?

oh yea i have dermatillomania lol

it doesn’t rlly bother me to talk abt bc i think “gross” stuff like that deserves to be less stigmatized— my shoulders n back are COVERRRRREED in little scars + scabs

[lovebvni]

hey!! shiv here!! you’re so spot on it’s scary really!! i feel like you tapped into my brain for the reading. Let’s break this down!!

1. just be is my motto. When everything fails, i just fall back to this. Nothing to get, nothing to do. Just be. Never fails me. So i’m happy to know i’m on the right path🥹

2. i want my void to be pink in colour🤭 and i have been feeling really good while doing pysch-k?? helps me accept the fact entirely that i’ll enter/wake up in the void.

3. I keep myself entertained lol!!! before i attempt to tap in the void i listen to a bunch of songs to feel light and brush off the nerves and thoughts! sometimes i even like to imagine myself safe cuddled up in bed lol (can u tell i’m deprived of physical touch lol)

4. I’m really shocked how you could see the childhood aspect too cause my earliest memory of my life is my parents fighting and my mom being really upset and i remember the helpless feeling lingering on (cause she’d just look at me and cry when i’d ask her what’s wrong) when i enter the void, i’m not saying i want the perfect parents but just parents that are sort of easy to be around. I really am not my actual self around them. I’m always holding my breath around them. I have accepted the fact that i’m not gonna be one of those kids that have a close and emotionally safe connection w their parents. It’s okay. I just don’t want to feel the need like i’m constantly walking on eggshells around them and my mom to be more independent. These are the tweaks i think you were referring to? i wasn’t thinking about this aspect a lot but i guess during the day, i still have this thought at the back of my mind and maybe that’s why you picked it up?

ALSO TRIGGER WARNING: SA!!

idk if it was this but i was assaulted as a child by one of the family members and i was in two minds if i should revise it! i was bitter for soooo long. Hated men, i even stopped listening to male artists for a while. (it’s so weird but the aftermath of what happened to me as a child is showing up now as an adult) but i am done w all of that. I have made my peace with it and as much as i hate how cliche this is gonna sound but the kind of person i have turned out to be, i wouldn’t want to change it just to be “perfect” so i won’t be revising it. I’m sorry if this upset you or anyone.

I hope i can enter the void soon and share my success story with you (please send good energy my way lol, it’s just the thought that counts really🤭🫶🏼)

Big big love to anyone and everyone reading this and going through just about anything in life. If it’s great then i only hope it’s greater for you and if it’s going absolutely shite then i hope it gets less shittier by the second.

and lastly, i think you are really really good! i would love to support your work (when i can afford it) for real! i have never had such a crazy accurate reading before. So thank you🥹 Hope you’re doing good!!!

hii shiv!!! i’m soooo happy ur reading was accurate n resonated a lot!!

when i first typed the word ‘void’ i saw it as a purple colour, vende why it’s purple in ur reading, then as i went on, the more i thought, he more pink it became. i’m pretty sure i got a visual of it too — it’s so pretty <3 like seriously, if u see me in ur void, im just looking!!!

and with ur sa, there may be something you’re still holding onto with that, or some cleansing that should to be done in ur sacral chakra. as someone who went through something similar, literally js imagining good sexual experiences with someone u love helps…. like a lot 😭😭

and i’m always sending positive energy to everyone i get readings too!! i trust n believe u will enter the void soon and it’s gonna be HELLA fun for u <3 i love u sm!!! have fun!! <3

[achillean-knight]

Nearing the end of Mettamay! Recap and thoughts :D (This is just for fun lol)

I think this is the part where I drop off of drawing for Mettamay AAAA But hey, I did really good though! (imo ofc!) The number of days I did and how much I drew MTT himself was insane 👀👀👀

In total I accomplished days: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 12, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27! So in total, 21 days! Holy shit LMFAO VERY proud at my commitment yo, I kinda wanna do this again next year if it's on! >:D (just remind me bc I WILL forget probably)

I've mostly dropped off by now, just bc I can't think of what to draw, and my motivation has moved to updating oc's for Art Fight BAHA But the fact I made it so far--- bonkers, bro, absolutely bonkers. This was INCREDIBLY fun and got me through pretty bad burnout, so yah! It was honestly very relaxing to just draw Mettaton for 21 days JHSDGHSD

Also, shout out to Mettamay for getting me to experiment with art aswell! Notably, I've become more comfortable not fully rendering with a painterly style, rather, just using a single pen brush in my software and doing pretty decent cell shading(?), which is epic as bc painting takes... SOOOO long JHDF

And honestly, imo to end off Mettamay for MYSELF Imma rank my favourite pieces I've done for this month, just to look back on and just for funsies KEKEKE

VV - UNDER THE CUT! BC THIS POST IS LONG AS HELL - VV

TO RECAP FOR MYSELF, My favourite pieces were these:

FIRST:

Mostly bc I am so SO happy with the rendering and colours JKSDHGFSD

SECOND:

First siting of me doing decent rendering in the whole of this challenge 🫵 This one was specifically a blast. The pose- not too great, but for me who is pretty shit at poses, I'm VERYYYYY happy with it >:D Very epic to see I also accomplished kinda comic-like background graphics, dunno how I did it JKHJGHSFGSDJ

THIRD:

i'm kinda insane about my AU MTT. Salty I forgot the weird cape banner wing things but I love this piece nonetheless ;;w;;! I'm so happy with the design, and getting the chance to draw it for Mettamay was a blast.

LASTLY/SPECIAL MENTION The amount of ghost MTT's I drew have to get their own spotlight. I had so so much fun drawing his ghost form, and honestly? NEW COMFORT CHARACTER UNLOCKED KJSHJHFDG

Who knew a hot pink ghost of my design would become a comfort PFFT Very happy at his design development since the first one LMAO Bro got edgier hair JHGGFJS thanks to my AU ghost MTT also having edgy af hair KJHJHSDJKDDHSDSJ

BUT YEAH Overall, Metta May was a BLAST And now that I experimented with drawing Mettaton, I think I'm comfortable drawing more of him now >:3 Just--- when motivation hits me LOL

[rat-fern]

tiny lil update post on what’s been happening in my life if literally anyone cares lmao

- finished my second school term! my english final essay got flagged for ai bc i ended up using grammarly and i had 2 have a meeting w my prof abt it where i let her know and instead of giving me a 0, she marked it based on the percentage of how much jt said it was ai, so i ended up still passing that course with a c- and i don’t have to retake it 😭 passed all my other courses w flying colours tho!

- got a job! i work nearly every day at a secondhand store. it’s…. chaotic sometimes but i earnestly don’t mind it too much, i just wish i wasn’t still scraping by but i blame my rent for that

- fell into a new friend group where we’re all super close and we hang out every weekend now, and i go out to do something, usually to shows or to clubs/bars. it’s been a lot of fun!! i’m so happy to have a good group of friends for once and actually look forward to the weekends

- lost one of my angel fang piercings :( the stud fell off at the club one night and then my whole ass piercing fell out when i was working and i didn’t notice. unfortunately the hole closed up before i could get to it and now i’m just temporarily snaggletoothed for now

- have reached a point where i can say i’m completely over my ex and have kinda distanced myself a lot from her. we are healing!

- have developed a crush on one of my friends in my friend group who is usually someone i’d probably never go for type wise, like he’s a cishet white blonde boy rn but he’s soooo babygirl and he’s my personal babygirl project tbh

[faceglitchsworld]

TxT and Fluffy Hair: a wonderful relationship~ Part 5: The Coolest Fox 🦊

Author's note: this is the last time I'll repeat everything don't worry. This is just my personal opinion about haircuts, don't expect any objective facts. The analysis are inspired by Michaela Diana's works on Instagram. If I mentioned other idols I did it only as examples not for comparison. The pic used are taken from TxT's official accounts, not fantaken.

This series is dedicated to @onlyoneofyouu

Hello everyone, how have you been?

Today the series dedicated to TxT and their wonderful relationship with curly hair aka The Floof, will come to an end. Sadly :(

We have only one member left so I will not make a super big presentation, I think you already know who will be the subject of our post.

My dear readers, the members I'm referring to is...

* drums roll *

YEONJUN!

Look it's the last post, let me have some fun, ok?

Oh Yeonjun, our beloved fox, dancer, rapper and full time model. This boy is literally perfect in every aspect but can he have The Floof too?

Well, let's say that... it's complicated and you'll understand why by looking at his facial features soooo, LET'S GO!

Ladies, gentlemen and non-binary pals calm down and don't go crazy while watching these selfies please. I know he's beautiful but have some demeanour 😅🤣

Starting from the face shape and his jawline, Yeonjun seems to have a sort of round/mini heart face shape. The slightly pointy chin might make you think that he has a sharp jawline but he actually it's very blunt and smooth.

So yeah, he already has two good features for The Floof. But if we go checking the eyes and the presence of full cheeks...uhmmm, the situation becomes a little complicated now.

His eyes seems downturned and little, which means that the bangs can be too much longer. You get it, I don't like long bangs, especially if they cover the eyes. In Yeonjun's case, if you give him long bangs I might completely lost my mind. But we can work with it somehow.

In my opinion he has some full cheeks when he eats especially but also when he's relaxed, he just needs some make up which let's them shine.

Also, maybe it's just me, but his ears are a little prominent. I don't know you but he's the first TxT member who catches my eyes when he wears earrings. Keep this feature in mind too, it will be useful later.

So, as you can see, Yeonjun has some features which can work perfectly for The Floof but others make this haircut a little difficult to menage for him. But don't worry Yeonjun, I'll find a solution for you.

Let's find the haircut first. Since his eyes are downturned, if we want to let them shine we need to let his forehead uncovered. It's pretty normal for him, since the majority of his haircuts consist of his uncovered forehead.

In my opinion he can't have a short haircut with the curls all over his forehead, even if the bangs have a good length. The reason? His ears.

Did you keep them in mind? Good. His ears are one of his most recognisable features. If he had short curly hair, his ears might end up being covered by the curls all over his head. That's why he mostly has straight hair if you think about it.

So, in my opinion, I think that a floofy mullet might work perfectly for him. He can show his forehead (and so his eyes) and his ears might not be to much covered by the curls.

And the hair colour?

Look, I'm being honest with you, I think that his hair started to suffer a lot from the hair dying recently. I don't know you but I noticed that, when he has his hair coloured, he lets the roots growing so, since I care a lot about his hair's condition, I think he should stick to his natural colour/dark colours such as black.

BUT, if a miracle will happen and his hair condition will get better then, in my personal, humble opinion he should come back to pink, his most ✨ I C O N I C✨ colour

This is how he might look like, but the mullet can be even a little longer for me

And that's it, this is how Yeonjun might look like with The Floof. As you've noticed he needs a very specific haircut to shine but if you have his features in mind and enough imagination you can always find a solution to it.

And we have officially come into the end of this series. I really hope you had fun while reading all of this and you started to appreciate The Floof a little more.

See you on the next post 👋

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

Yknow what im bored n cant sleep soooo what the hell ill do one of these (from @iworshipsappho )

Currently reading: i have not read 4 agesss omg i mean there is one book i was sorta readjng but alsk not rlly but also even if i was properly reading it i wouldnt say bc it is cringe and im NEVERRRR cringe ever (lying)

Favourite colour: pinkkkk and redddd and orangeeee and pinkkk and everything warm coloured but especially pink. And browns too. But mainly pink.

Last song: well better than the alternative by will wood !!!!! I think atleast my last spotify thing is a podcast so idk i THINKKKK it was this im gonna pretend it was this bc its sooooos ososos good.

Last movie: errrr httyd2 from likeee a week or so ago idk i made a post abt it i think but my perception of time is not. Good.

Sweet/ spicy/ savory: ooooo id have 2 say spicy bc its the thing that if i had 2 eat it for a month straight id get sick of it the slowest. Bc w sweet stuff i loveeee them but like. Id get sick of them after a day let alone a month. W savoury. Ooh. Dont, even ask. After i got covid. My taste was SOOO fucked up. I could basically only eat savoury carbs for months. And i am SO SICK of savoury food. Other than olives god i love olives. BUT. Carbs r ruined 4 me forever and ever and carbs r almost always savoury (on their own) so savoury CAN DIE. Anyways. Spicy. Yea.

No tag list bccccccccc yeah have fun. Insteadddddd. Go listen 2 will woods music likeee rnnnn. Bcccc. It bangs dude. Especiallyyyy everything is a lot. The album not the individual song. Man its good. Id tag will wood here. Pretend hes tagged. Yea. Also listen 2 errr. Man i havent been listening 2 much music lately. Theres video game soundtracks n will wood and also someee slaughter beach,dog but thats ittttt. Listen 2 the celeste soundtrack. And the hollow knight soundtrack. And the night in the woods soundtrack. Anddddd. Other video game soundtracks. Yeeeeaaaa. Goodnight.

[seiwas]

oh my GOD midi 😭 your comments and reactions to this im SOBBING

where do i even begin!!! omg i'll try to respond as orderly as i can!!!

i as well!! am such a sucker for a 5+1 trope 🥺 i feel like i have to do it for each of my faves at some point & was reaaallly looking forward to doing it for col 🥹

and ur reaction photos never not gET TO ME omg they're always so funny i LOVE THEM 🥹

PRE-SCENE

col gojo is truly neck deep in this and there's no escape!!!! (not like he wants to.....) and your prediction!! omg 🤭 kinda true??? wUHWHAUHau

SCENE 1

i looove using the sky to describe gojo's eyes!!! apart from colour, just the fact that it can transition from cloudy to clear, dark to bright leaves so much creative room with it!!

AND THE FLIPPING OVER SCENE OMG writing this scene was a challenge bc i don't normally write action scenes (i focus a lot more on feelings) so figuring out the logistics of how to describe flipping someone over was A Bit. but i'm happy w how it turned out eventually 🥹

am so happy u enjoyed this lil scene!!! honestly i think it might be one of my favourites out of this bunch, just bc i put so much mental effort into it LMAO i'm so glad u caught some of my favourite bits of it too!!

SCENE 2

writing this was so fun omg i think cos writing reader kinda tipsy left a lot of room for them to be more vocal and straightforward abt their feelings 🥺 i think they've always considered gojo's feelings first when talking to him that their own feelings tend to be a bit overshadowed 🥺

and i am SOOOO happy that you felt the yearning in this scene bc i was really trying hard to drive that home 🥺 U CAN REALLY TELL I PUT MY WHOLE SOUL INTO THIS HELP 😭 i think!! bc!! the feeling is too familiar to me and i was figuring out how to convey that!!

the lil lines u noticed too!!! omg those are some of my faves as well i think... aaaah sdhfsdf this scene holds a special place in my heart fr!!

SCENE 3

this one was rlly tough to write!!! i'm not sure why... i think bc the initial outline wasn't how it turned out to be at all!! so i was struggling with the direction of it bUT am so glad u enjoyed it nonetheless 🥺

SCENE 4

pls omg he secretly loves that apron i just knOW it and omg yes megs is rlly only helping bc he loves col reader 🥺 AND THE BROWSER TAB OMG THIS GUY DOESNT GIVE A FLYING FUCK RLLY 😭 he's leaving his laptop out in the open he doesnt CAAAREEE

megs is a menace deep in his core i feel it in my BONES (you drawing them with cutesy headbands would be SOOOO cute 🥺) + your reaction miDI OMG DSBGHSD PLS ICB U HAD TO STAND AND PACE AROUND READING IT 😭 AAAAH UR FRIEND IS SO REALSDABSD it's so interesting!! seeing which parts u liked best omg sdhjbfsd this makes me so happy 🥺

SMACKA SMACKA IM LAUGHIGNSDBASD i wanted to reference stuff from the other col fics and thought this would be neat ! esp since the lingerie fic takes place along this timeframe !!! so having it featured here kind of informs the sequence of events too!! (that the lingerie fic happened before this) and you knoWWWW am not an explicit writer omg but am glad u felt the intimacy in it 🥹 i am slowly !!! warming up to more intimate scenes the more i write it 🥹

SCENE 5

FULL SMACKA SMACKA HELP 😭

and omg that is the sweetest thing u can say abt this scene midi 🥹 thank u sm and am so glad that my kinda nsfw way of writing scenes like this still hits some way 🥹 i get flustered myself when writing intimate scenes like lowkey i feel like i'd have to detach and blackout just to write it explicitly buT YEA 🥹 im so happy u like it!! esp since u do read smut on the regular omg 🥹

SCENE +1

AAAAAHH he really is 🥹 i sometimes worry that bc col isnt a super strict series, more like vignettes of their relationship, that, even if someone can pick this up without the context of the other fics, my characterisation of satoru might be a bit off?? mainly bc i think col satoru atp is a product of how he was in the earlier pieces of col 🥹 and i am soOOOO glad that u've been here to witness his growth from the start!!!

gsdgsdu i reaLLY wanted to write that breakup miscomm bc i think its so siLLy and SO FUNNY dsbfsjadf but AAH am so glad u felt the tension... i was so unsure if it was felt hELp

and to answer your prediction!! of it being a proposal!! i will say!!!! that i turned over the idea in my head quite a few times, and i won't say my current thoughts on the col couple and a marriage proposal just bc it's still open to change for me but!! this is a step towards a kind of permanence—a forever, like you said!! it's not a marriage proposal, but it is a proposal to move in together 🥹 i was just thinking of a way he could say it that felt a bit more weighted!! and less conventional?? bc i do think they're a bit unconventional (esp gojo)

UR REACTION PHOTOS ARE SO CUTE AND I AM BEYOND FLATTERED AND TOUCHED THAT U TOOK THE TIME TO WRITE THIS FR MIDI 😭 i cant even imagine the amt of time it took 😭 i appreciate this and you so much!!!!

TAGS

AAAH to hear that this is ur fave fic so far??? omg 🥹 i was expecting it wouldn't do as well bc the fics i tend to enjoy writing/like don't really end up as people's favourites too!! but i did thoroughly enjoy the pre-writing and writing process for this 🥺 my whole gojussy indeed 🥺

and i translated ur indonesian and omg that'S SO SWEET SJDFBJSD IM so glad the second read is just as good as the first 😭😭 srsly midi i am sososo flattered and this means sososo much ilysm thank u so much AS ALways

₊˚⊹。these traces of love, they outline you | gojo satoru

wc: 12.9k

summary: the 5 times gojo’s sure you’ve changed his life + the 1 time he hopes to change yours. 

contains: f!reader, uses pronoun she, 18+ nsfw (not super explicit but the act is there), vague allusion to symptoms similar to synesthesia, mentions of reader’s cursed technique, sparring, drunk call, use of pet names (cutie, silly, pretty, baby), nervous feelings, tummy ache, food descriptions, surprise appearance of one character, emotional tears!!, internal thoughts and insecurities.

a/n: primarily in gojo's pov! & best read if you’ve gone through the other parts in the series! (there are lots of callbacks and references, and you’ll get better context!), used lots of songs as inspo for this (would gladly share if you’re curious!), food names are in japanese, so i’ll add explanations in the a/n at the bottom!, hope you enjoy! from conceptualisation to actual writing, this piece is my baby!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +4 (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Gojo thinks he might pass out. 

There’s a feeling of unease sitting deep in his gut, nervous and gurgling. His hands have always been restless and fidgety but never this sweaty, and his head feels like it’s floating—even more than that first time he attempted a 24-hour stint on keeping up Infinity. 

It’s eerily quiet in his office as he waits for your meeting to end, the white colon on his digital clock taunting him as it flicks on and off—16:27. 3 more minutes until you finish. 

He paces around the room. 

Attempts at any distraction are thwarted when everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of you. There’s a photo hanging by the door, the mix-and-match of couch cushions in varying hues—all souvenirs you’ve given him from places you’ve been to. The coffee table books hold your touch too, and as he runs his hand over his face. he’s hit with that signature scent, clean and subtle from the hand cream you use.

Waiting in his office today has been absolute torture, but what’s made it more excruciating is the fact that he knows you’re aware of absolutely nothing.

To you, this is just like every other Friday. 

You’d done your usual morning routine, kissed him on the nose with the promise to meet him in his office after work, as you always do. And it feels like a big joke when he thinks about it now, because while he’s been on edge this entire day about it, you really have no clue what’s coming. 

To him, this could change everything with you. 

He’s been feeling it for a while now, the ripple effect of loving and being loved by you—how he can recall every time a single drop of you has shifted something deep within him, marked and colored you. 

There’s not a lot that Gojo wants now that he feels like he truly has it all, but when he thinks about all the times he’s sure you’ve changed his life, he hopes that with this one thing, he can change yours. 

.

.

.

1 — UNDER YOUR TOUCH, WHEN IT GETS TOO MUCH

The weather today is good—sunlight peeking behind cloud pillows and the occasional gust of wind passing through the space you’ve put between you and Gojo. It’s neither too humid nor too dry and though Gojo does get the occasional sniffle from his pollen allergies around this time, he woke up earlier completely fine. 

So, the weather today is good, perfect even, for a brush-up on sparring practice. 

You’ve kept a sizable distance away from him since it started, and every attempt he’s made to draw nearer, you’ve only moved away farther—a push-and-pull, an old dynamic that shows itself in the ways you engage in battle.  

Gojo’s hands stay tucked in his pockets, his stance one you know perfectly well as relaxed but still guarded. He’s gotten a lot bulkier than the days you used to spar often, the past few years having filled in all the areas of what used to be slim, lean muscle. He doesn’t move because he knows the style you fight with, how you stay on defense until your opponent charges, utilizing their own strength against them. 

It’s the only way you’ve managed to win against someone as deadly as Gojo, equal-parts lethal in speed and strength. 

So when a cluster of clouds pass by and the sun glares directly into your eyes, Gojo smirks, then bends his knees as he lunges for an attack.

Your senses are sharp and reflexes quick; in the split second that a white-and-black blur appears before you, you attempt a high kick, only for it to be blocked with his forearm. He uses his other hand to twist around your ankle, trying to flip you over, but you see right through his motives. You huff, furrowing your brows as you narrowly escape, slipping your ankle out before he can fully grab a hold of it.

Most of this practice has felt like a stalemate, with the both of you waiting on the other for the most part of the hour. Gojo can see how it’s wearing you down, this entire thing being dragged out, and if he’s being honest—this is exactly what he wants.

Sparring out here with you today, while still meant for actual training, is also just an excuse to do this for old time’s sake—the way you huff and frown, jaw clenched as your fists ball up tightly like you’re doing right now.

He kind of misses seeing you like this, impatient and frustrated, so unlike the tenderness you always regard him with. 

A smile threatens to form on his lips, and he bites it back down. 

You only ever get like this sparring against him. 

The tension breaks when you decidedly throw a punch; it’s a desperate attempt to get the fight moving but he ducks, arm securing itself around your waist as he locks your hip with his. Before you can even comprehend, your body is lifted across his back and lowered down to the grass below—the only thing in sight being two blue skies, beaming at you. 

Somewhere during the commotion, he managed to remove his blindfold, hair let loose, fluffy and white almost like the clouds above you. Gojo isn’t taking this seriously at all; he’s way too soft, having cushioned your fall by carrying most of your weight instead of throwing you down like anyone seriously sparring is supposed to. 

He doesn’t care though. All he really wanted this afternoon was to reminisce with you. 

You’re kept underneath him, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—and it’s there, that frown on your face, that pout he’s witnessed for years evolve into what it is now. Beads of sweat collect at the crease between your brows, your temples tensing as you breathe out. 

Gojo at 17 would have teased you relentlessly for this, but he feels different now, warmth settling in his chest as he stares; he can’t help it, the words coming out of his mouth—

“You’re so—”

But he doesn’t even get to finish.

Everything around him blurs, green and blue blending in motion before he finds himself on his back, completely flipped over. He’s met with the sight of you, smug smile pulled wide with your hands resting on his chest. And his heart—

Can you feel it under your fingertips? How it’s beating a mile a minute? 

A shiver runs down his spine, the pinpricks of grass tickling the nape of his neck. The shock is tingling, his eyes fully open as he processes what just occurred. 

In the lapse of time he’d been a little too preoccupied staring at you, you managed to inch your leg to wrap around his, locking it at the last minute to flip him over—it lands you where you are now, on his lap, straddling his hips. 

“Sneaky.” he gazes fondly, grin teasing.

You catch your breath, “Do I win?” 

“Only because I let you get too close this time.”

Which is a lie, he knows, because having you near him like this, with some form of touching—you could never be close enough.

You roll your eyes, his fingers grabbing hold of your thighs. The grass pricks at your knees through the fabric of your leggings, and Gojo knows that if you stay like this any longer, it’s going to start to itch.

“Did I hurt you anywhere?” you ask, already assessing him for any point of injury. Your eyes go over his face before trailing down his arms, rarely exposed today in his black compression shirt.

“Yeah,” he pouts, pointing to his lips, all pink and puckered out, “kiss it better?” 

Asking for this is against his better judgment, he’s aware; with the way you’re situated on his lap, this could escalate into something else entirely. You shake your head, swatting at his chest. His grip on your thighs loosens as you get off him, but the curl of your lips is extremely telling. 

As you stand up to dust your knees, Gojo gazes at you fondly. The sun hides behind you from where you tower over him, but the halo effect around your head is just as blinding. 

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway. 

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you. 

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs. 

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right. 

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…” 

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies. 

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him. 

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze. 

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it. 

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out while his thumb draws hearts on fabric. 

You reach for him. 

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly. 

“Remember when you used to do this?” he takes your hand, long and lithe fingers wrapping around yours as he guides them over his ear. 

Your eyes widen in recognition and he blinks, taking you in as he stares, “Wanna do it now?”

Concern reveals itself in the furrow of your brows, “Is it hurt—”

“No,” he chuckles, already knowing what you’re about to say.

The last time you did this for him, he didn’t even have to ask. One look and you knew—it’d been the night of his final conversation with Suguru. His skull-splitting migraine ensued after bickering with Shoko on what to do with the body. You were there; you heard everything, and when she gave up arguing and left, there was only one thing you could do. 

With his head on your lap by his office couch, you tuned out the sounds. 

He doesn’t prefer you using your cursed technique this way; it takes a considerable amount of your cursed energy to focus its effects solely on another body—and frankly, it’s a waste of time for you to spend all of that on him, at least in his opinion, personally. 

You’d struggled a lot with your technique back in high school, having to learn how to fully manipulate different sonic hues: white noise, brown noise, any and all of it in the entire spectrum. Being able to amplify, distort, reduce, and isolate them into their respective hues covers only the bare minimum when it comes to understanding your technique.

It’s tedious work, and when one of your senses holds so much more power over the others, the information that flows through it can be overwhelming, overloaded even. Sorting through all that noise—he gets it, gets you, and how it must hurt too. 

And yet you, at 17, still figuring out how to grasp it all, came knocking on his door when you noticed he hadn’t come for dinner. Quietly, you placed your hands over his ears and selflessly offered your discomfort for his relief. 

The first time you did this for him, you’d only heard of his migraines from Shoko. You witnessed it yourself when he opened his door and looked so unlike himself: blindfold secured tightly but haphazardly, strands of hair sticking out oddly; his room seemed to be blacked out completely. 

Gojo Satoru is no stranger to sensations beyond what any human should be subjected to, but when you laid your hands on him that day, cursed energy tickling his ears as it flowed through your fingertips—he’d never felt more normal, more human to be able to hear things without conjuring a visual of it. 

It’s almost like you silenced his mind—enough to hear himself, and you, and the buzz of the white noise you’d amplified to flow through him in his blacked out room. 

You’ve gotten a lot better at controlling it now, the task in itself barely causing you any ache or struggle at all. 

“Just like old times,” he nudges you. 

So you keep your hand where he’s left it, covering his ear with your palm as your fingers rest on his temples. Cursed energy flows from your touch, all sounds drowning out. 

He keeps his eyes on yours, watching as your expression shifts with every sonic hue you focus on—an upgrade to your abilities the more you’d gotten the hang of it. 

You concentrate hard for white noise, creating your own mix to emulate radio static, transitioning out to green noise the moment you highlight the sound of birds chirping. Then, you ease it to brown noise, intensifying the soft whistles of the wind to mimic it. 

It’s weird how sentimental he’s been feeling lately—without any trigger or anything, but the more he leans into your palm, the more it gets him thinking. 

Touch had begun as extremely foreign to him—a god revered and valued but never really truly loved, untouchable with infinity, and the pedestal he’s always stood on. 

It was never supposed to be important to him. 

Until you. 

From your kindness that first day, and the many more that followed: of fingers brushing and hand-holding to breaths mingling and bodies moulding, moving—you’ve always touched him in ways no one else has, in places no one’s been able to reach. 

And if it wasn’t important then, completely foreign, it’s important now, so much that he looks for it everywhere, all the time, even. The way you scratch the short bristles of his undercut, fingers dragging down to the nape of his neck; the way you tap his collarbone thrice, run your fingers across his lip, and intertwine your fingers with his at random. 

When Gojo thinks about your touch, he thinks about how gentle it is, with intent and purpose. How it’s always been careful for him but never of him, and that’s made the biggest difference. 

He blinks, and you follow two times, focusing on him. 

All he hears is a heartbeat now, a little too fast to be at rest, but still steady and grounding—

The way he feels when he’s with you. 

Whether it’s his or yours, from your cursed technique or just the blood rushing in his ears, he knows this is pink noise, the one you’d so excitedly shown him when you first mastered it. 

The pink noise that resounded all throughout his twenty-somethings, when he first realized that you meant more to him than what you were. 

.

.

.

2 — WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

The bed feels cold tonight. 

Gojo’s been staring at the lights on his ceiling for the past 30 minutes, and though his pillow is cool and blanket soft, he’s wide awake—nowhere near falling asleep any time soon. 

He shifts to the side, the space beside him taunting, empty. 

He misses you. 

For the past week, you’ve been off to a much-needed girls trip with Shoko and Utahime. He’d even offered to pay for the entire accommodation—to which you and Utahime declined, while Shoko shrugged, crossing her arms as she snorted, “If he really wants. At least he’s being useful.” 

You’d compromised and agreed that he could pay for an evening out in some nightclub. 

Now, he regrets it. A little bit. Maybe. 

Gojo’s bed is big, a king-size that fits the height of him and all his long limbs, and while it’s comfortable and spacious–supposed good things–he feels anything but comfortable in how spacious and vacant it now feels. 

He turns to the other side, facing his sidetable instead.

The digital clock reads 01:17 and he sighs; you still have a few days left. 

The next time you bring up being away for this long, he’s going with you. Even if he has to spend the entire day on his own, he’ll do it—as long as he gets to end it next to you. 

If he’s really thinking about it, nothing’s stopping him from teleporting there right now. He could hop in quick, give you a hug, hopefully a kiss, and maybe even get lucky if you allow him to steal you for the night. He’ll teleport you right back in the morning and it’ll be like you never left, even. 

He could do it. You can never resist him when he gives you his googly eyes. 

If you’re already back from—

Bzz bzz. His phone vibrates. 

He reaches for it over his night stand, instantly sitting up once he reads that it’s from you—the nickname he just recently changed your contact to. 

(It was always just your name, simple and straightforward, easy to find; when you return, he’s probably going to change it back because you prefer it that way—for safety purposes and everything.

But while he still can, he’s going to keep it like this: a petname with an obnoxious string of emojis that he associates with you).

1:20 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> satoourur are u awaeke??

The corner of his lips curl up, endeared at the image of you hunched over your phone, fingers slipping as you clumsily press the wrong letters. So cute. 

1:21 a.m.

< yes cutie? ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

1:21 a.m. 

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> casll?

He stares at it for a good minute or two, trying to decipher this rare, drunken code from you. But before he gets the chance to respond, your face appears on his screen, a photo of you he’d taken months ago, mid-chew special Daifuku.

You’re calling. 

He grins, biting his lower lip. His feet slip inside the house slippers by the side of his bed as he gets up, swiping his phone to answer before holding it against his ear. 

“Miss me already?” he teases, padding out of his bedroom.

“Satoruuu,” you drawl. Definitely drunk, if not tipsy.

Even like this though, Gojo aches when he hears you speak; there’s a twinge that pokes at his ribcage, making him wish he was right next to you.

The music around you sounds muffled, almost as if you’d stepped out just to make this call—another thought that makes him ache.

He walks down the hall towards his kitchen and stops, realizing: if you stepped out of the club, does this mean you’re alone? He trusts you can take care of yourself, but if you’re this inebriated…

“Are you with Shoko and Utahime?” he asks casually, attempting to mask his worry. His hand digs deeper into his pocket, shifting his weight to his other foot. 

“‘Nside.” you slur. 

You don’t actually sound that drunk, more sleepy if anything, really, but his heart still picks up pace. Maybe he should just go to you already. 

“You should go to them,” he urges, continuing his walk to the kitchen. 

“M’be later,” you sigh, and he hears a bit of rustling on your end—a soft curse and a small thud, “w’na talk t’you.” 

Another ache. 

He can picture it: you, in some sidestreet, phone clutched to your ear as you tuck your hair back before sighing, legs buckling as you clumsily drop down to sit. 

“Oh?” he lilts, eyebrow lifting. A smirk forms on his lips, head tilting as he wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder. He reaches for his refrigerator, “Got something to tell me, pretty?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting you to say, maybe a recount of your day, or something funny that he’s bound to laugh at, whatever it is. 

“Just miss you.” 

He wasn’t expecting you to say this—

—in an exhale, with a slight tremble, like it’s been waiting to be let out. Vulnerable. 

There’s another ache, and he nearly drops the water bottle.

He should really just go to you.

His phone nearly slips from his neck, the thump of his heartbeat on rampage as he readjusts it.

He swallows, “I miss you too.” 

And it’s odd, how it sounds when he says it, a bit shaky too. A stillness settles in the room and it echoes off every kitchen equipment and countertop. He can’t even get himself to tease you for this one. 

“I can go there now, if you want.” he offers, almost a whisper, before attempting a chuckle. It comes out flat, tinted a little sad, “Blink twice and I’ll be there when you open your eyes.”

You giggle on the other end, and it fills him in this moment. 

When he looks around his apartment now, steel finish and walls accented black, the backsplash of his kitchen a grayish hue of iron—it reminds him of luxury fit for a bachelor, sleek in its utility. 

He’s lived here since his mid-twenties, and he likes how it’s designed, the colors and feel of it right up his alley. The furniture remains simple, modern and minimalist, filling the spaces of his open floor plan down to the two bedrooms and office space. 

But right now, it feels so empty. 

“Silly,” you chuckle, he can hear your grin forming, affection dripping, “my silly baby.”

Now his heart really aches. 

The subtle static makes you sound unreal, strung together by radio waves; it’s rare enough for you to call him ‘baby’, and for you to say it when he can’t even see or hold you while you do it—it’s cruel; a test of his restraint. 

He rests his back against the kitchen counter, arm coming across his chest to rest under his elbow, supporting the one holding his phone–you–by his ear. His teasing is softer tonight, tinged by yearning, so he hums, “Your silly baby, huh? Any chance it could be your silly ‘Toru instead?” 

The way he says ‘‘Toru’ is a pitch lower, slower, and exaggeratingly more seductive in his banter; it’s what you call him in bed, or by accident, and in the moments you find yourself needing him in ways he can only satisfy by being your lover. 

If you say it, he’s definitely going to teleport himself over. 

You giggle again. 

“S’that your fav’rite one?” you mumble, words blending together. He can imagine your cheek smushed against your knee, arms curled around your legs as you sit on concrete, “‘‘Toru?’” 

When he thinks about it, you aren’t too big on his nicknames—at least, not as much as he is with you. You only call him three things: baby (which truthfully, he had to convince you to), ‘Toru (first whispered in the moment, heat fueling it), and Satoru (since you were 16, weighted and grounding throughout all the years you’ve known him). 

Is ‘‘Toru’ his favorite? 

For obvious reasons, maybe.

But—

“I like everything you call me,” he smirks, shifting his weight. 

“Sweet-talker.” 

He closes his eyes, head tilting back as he leans further—and he swears, he can see you, the image of you rolling your eyes and scrunching your nose seared into his eyelids. 

God damn, he really misses you.

“You love it,” he murmurs.

A beat. He hears the faint honk of a car before you drown it out, sighing. 

“I do,” you whisper, admittance ringing in his ears, “I love you, Satoru.” 

He hears this all the time, but tonight it just aches; the way you say things so sincerely, so honestly even in an inebriated state—how you call him Satoru and it’s still weighted, still grounding, like who he is resides right there, in the softness of your lips. 

Gojo’s always been relevant but when you call him Satoru, he feels more than just the name.

If you’re asking about his favorite, he thinks this might be it—in every handwritten note you leave, his name scrawled in your hybrid of semi-print-semi-cursive letters; in every call you pick up, opening always with a ‘Satoru?’, end pitched higher, sweet and curious. 

“C’n I tell you somethin’?” you ask (even when you don’t need to, even when he’s already listening). 

“Let me guess, Utahime has a travel ick and Shoko—”

“Satoru.” you scold, rolling your eyes, but there’s no bite. The next bit you say under your breath, a little fragile, “‘M serious.”

The nervousness sits in his stomach; this conversation feels significant.

He takes a seat on his barstool. 

“Listening.” 

For a while, it’s only your breathing; knowing you, you’re probably thinking, crafting what to say carefully. 

You sigh again, and—

“I worry sometimes,” you admit.

He furrows his brows, “About?”

“That maybe bein’ with me’s a lil’ boring?”

And this… this aches in a different way. 

How can you even think that? 

You chuckle anxiously; he can bet you’re biting your lips, a habit you’ve picked up from him. 

He rests an elbow on his kitchen island, leaning onto it as he tilts his phone closer to his ear. 

“Apologize right now,” he commands, sternness making him feel a little guilty, “that’s the person I love you’re slandering.” 

But you only laugh, real and more relaxed, nervousness dissipating. 

“My bad, my bad,” you play along before mumbling, “‘m just sayin’, there’re lotsa others who are more everythin’ y’know?” 

He wonders what’s got you thinking like this, if it’s triggered by seeing people at the club, perhaps younger and far livelier—how you spent those years of your life exorcizing curses and making a home for two kids. 

“So what? They’re still not you.”

And he means it, genuinely.

Your breath hitches and he grins, swinging around on the bar stool. 

Those years of youth were still fun, he thinks, and it’s precisely because of you—how you’d made the apartment the four of you stayed in as fun and homely as a teen barely pushing twenty could.

You had your fair share of mishaps and adventures—rushed breakfasts and Megumi’s ‘my dog ate my homework’s. Tsumiki had to miss a day of school once because you accidentally booked her a birthday gift trip to Disneyland on a weekday. 

(And he got scolded a lot, ‘Satoru’ exhaled with a look. But it would only last a few moments; you can never stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try). 

There was no way you and Gojo had the maturity and responsibility of actual parents (maybe more like inexperienced guardians, really), but you tried your hardest to give Megumi and Tsumiki a home. 

Home, what he’s beginning to realize reminds him of you.

He looks around him now, at the details of his interior, and begins to think of yours—your apartment, a little more wooden and lived-in; there’s a lot more wear but also a lot more love, never empty like his feels right now. 

“If being with you was so boring, I wouldn’t be itching to go to you right now.” he confesses, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants. 

You laugh again before it falls into comfortable silence. 

Muffled conversations and the occasional beep sound in your background. There’s a couple giggling around you and he thinks that could be the two of you—if only he were with you. 

“Satoru,” you call him softly. 

He hums, letting it sink in—the way you say his name, distinct in how you stress his consonants despite the softness around his vowels.

When you say ‘Satoru’, it always feels targeted, speaking straight to who he is. 

“‘M so happy it’s you,” you whisper shyly, but it’s bright—unmistakably smiling, the visual of your eyes crinkling. 

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, drunken affection and vulnerable confessions, but there’s that ache again, and all he wants to do is go to you, hold you. Be with you. 

For a while, Gojo’s been resigned to the fact that there are some things he can’t give you: how you’ll never know true peace because he’ll always be linked to jujutsu society; how choosing him means choosing the tumultuous, the unpredictable. 

And while you’ve already told him that you prefer this life with him better, for you to say you’re happy, that it’s him—

He’s thankful it’s you, too. 

Tears collect at his lash line, pools of gratitude, “I love you.”

“Hmm? you’re coverin’ the mic w’your double-chin,” you joke, just to hear him say it again, he knows. 

(There’s no way he has a double-chin from how you complain about his jawline being too sharp all the time). 

“I love you.” he repeats, louder, steadier, pressing it into his phone’s microphone. 

He’ll repeat it again as many times as you want him to. 

You giggle and he echoes it—like that couple from earlier, your own version. 

The clock reads 02:47, and he normally doesn’t like being up this late, barely getting enough sleep as is. But if you’re the reason why, he doesn’t mind staying awake.  

.

.

.

3 — TUCKED IN BED, WHEN I LIE CORRECTED

“Satoru, you can’t keep eating sweets on an empty stomach.”

He turns beside you, the dull rumbling of the Shinkansen hardly masking how loudly he asks, “Why not?” 

An old man seated across the aisle looks your way, grumpy by the folds between his brows—as if he’d been woken up by Gojo’s whining. You bow your head slightly in apology. 

It’s been an early day so far, with you and Gojo catching the first train out from Kyoto to Tokyo. Departing at 06:14 doesn’t exactly leave room for food stops, so all you have are the two water bottles handed out from yesterday’s meeting and a pack of (now) half-eaten Hi-Chew that Gojo picked up from the convenience store last night. 

“You’ll get a stomach ache.” you whisper, with emphasis. 

He fiddles with the stick of Hi-Chew, tossing it between his fingers before popping one piece out. 

The seats in the Shinkansen are spacious enough for Gojo to stretch his long, gangly legs, but despite all the free room in your row, he’s chosen to encroach on your space, sticking to you shoulder-to-shoulder. 

“Nonsense,” he tilts his face, sunglasses sliding a few centimeters down the bridge of his nose, “I do this all the time.” 

And his eye, clear and bright blue amidst the morning haze zipping past the windows of the train, winks at you. 

Heat warms your cheeks; it’s too early for this. 

The moment you look away, hiding your smile, he knows he’s got you. 

. 

Or not. 

Because you seem to have gotten him—

—tucked in bed, nursing this stomach ache that could have been avoided if he just listened. 

To be fair, he does do it all the time: a few candies, sometimes gummies first thing in the morning, last thing at night. So he’s right, it’s nonsense; he probably got this from something else. 

(Even when you’d both eaten the same meals—how you always order to share because you like tasting a little bit of everything). 

Which is why, you insist it’s from the sweets, his beloved Hi-Chew to be specific. And though he wants to, he can’t argue much when he’s curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach while writhing in bed. 

“I made you tea,” you stand by your bedside, holding out your mug—small cereals patterned all over it. 

He opens an eye, hair mussed up from all his squirming. The pain in his stomach is radiating, a knot that tightens in waves; this is different from the twist-y pop-y sparks of jealousy, and is nothing compared to the sting of multiple slashes. 

Still, it’s a pain he doesn’t understand: a mixture of feeling gassy and bloated, like he needs to run to the toilet only for it to turn out futile. What makes it worse is that when he catches a glimpse of you, a lock of hair perfectly out of place, the sensation in his stomach intensifies—like butterflies flapping (or maybe just another wave of radiating pain). 

“S’hot,” he grumbles, half of his face mushed into the pillow.

The mug in your hand is piping hot, steam lifting from it, and Gojo doesn’t like drinking hot things; he’s burnt his tongue enough times on hot chocolate that he swears any hot liquid is out to get him.

But you don’t know that about him—he’s never told you, he thinks. 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“That’s kind of the point, baby.” you chuckle, tone doting with a hint of pity, “It has to be.” 

Your hand rests on his thigh, attempting to soothe him. He catches your eye and whines. 

“If I blow on it, will you drink?” you plead, “Please?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what hurts more: this stupid stomach ache or how nice you’re being. 

You could have said ‘I told you so’ the moment his stomach started gurgling when you both arrived in Tokyo—but you didn’t. Instead, you asked him what exactly he was feeling and had him change into his pajamas as you nursed him to bed. Then, you cooked him real food, a bowl of Okayu for his stomach to digest something plain and non-irritable. 

You haven’t stopped moving since you both got back from Kyoto, unpacking both your things while simultaneously darting in and out your bedroom, checking in.  

How you speak to him is so gentle, caring, doting—even when you have every right to hold it against him. 

He pushes himself up, leaning back on the headrest. You smile, lovely, and beautiful, and every bit healing that it eases the pain a little, somehow. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you blow on his tea, scooting closer.

A gurgling sound comes from his stomach again, but it’s manageable, and he bears it as he takes you in—how you’ve barely had the time to change out of your clothes since this morning. You’re tired, he’s sure, but you don’t mention it as you take care of him. 

The bed as you draw nearer, bringing the mug to his lips—he’s a grown man and he can definitely do this on his own, but you always take such good care of him. 

Who is he to say no?  

Sips of peppermint coat his tongue, warm as it eases down his throat. He wraps his fingers around yours, drinking a third of the mug before urging you to set it down. 

“I’ll heat up a hot compress,” you motion to get up, placing the mug by your bedside. 

He stops you, grip loose on your wrist. 

“Have you eaten?” 

You stare at him, a little surprised, but you nod.

“Just stay with me, then. Don’t need that thing.” 

Your brows furrow, pouting, “But it’ll help,” 

“Hug me instead,” his fingers play with yours, intertwining, “or I’ll hug you. Either.” 

You shoot him a look, disbelieving, but he musters up a wink, for you, despite the new wave of pain arising. 

“Okay,” you sigh, knowing you can’t exactly argue. As you get up, you land a kiss on top of his head, rubbing his knuckles as you get ready for bed. 

When you come back, dressed in your pajamas, he’s turned to his side, lifting the comforter to welcome you in. You lie face-to-face with him, his arm reaching out to rest on your lower back, pushing you closer. 

“You sure this is enough?” you whisper, breath tickling his chin. 

“Mm, yeah,” he hums, hugging you tighter as he grins, “you’re hot.” 

You hit his arm lightly, and he chuckles.

It turns quiet, then he shifts, resting his forehead against yours. White strands, as pale as your pillowcases tickle your eyes. 

He nuzzles your nose, hiking your leg up to rest on his hip while slotting his leg between your thighs—like a pretzel, twisted into each other tight. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

He’s said this before, and no matter how much you say it isn’t true—he’ll always think it, believe it. 

You frown, gripping his waist, “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know.” 

And he thinks you’ve always been like this: hands outstretched farther than his, offering yourself to help carry whatever pain, struggle, or burden you can. You cry for the sadness others feel, share the hurt of anyone who needs it. You’re the pillar, the support for everyone around you—from Yuuji, Megumi, and Tsumiki all the way back to Utahime, Suguru, and Nanami. 

You’ve always been this way, ever since he met you. 

“Does it still hurt?” you mutter, concerned, fingers grazing his stomach. 

It does and it doesn’t—the pain is unfamiliar but he can take it, having gone through far worse. If he’s being really honest, a part of him just likes being babied by you. 

“Better,” he inches back a little, lips curling into mischief, “would definitely go away with some Hi-Chew.” 

You shoot him a look, then pout. 

“Satoru.” 

He figures there are still a few things you don’t know about him: how he really dislikes hot drinks, how discomfort turns him into a whiney, needy baby, and how he remains incredibly stubborn, maintaining what he stands for (but maybe you know this already). 

“Hey, you should be thanking my Hi-Chew’s. It helps with energy when we fu—” 

You swat at his chest in hopes of shutting him up.

He clears his throat, correcting himself instead, “—make love.” 

This is hardly the time or situation to be talking about the other things you do on your bed, given that he’s been out of commission, curled in on himself the entire day on it. But you sigh, resting your palm on his cheek. 

He turns to peck your wrist, hand coming up to cover yours.

“Just because you were fine doing it before, doesn’t mean you always will be.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. 

And Gojo thinks he’s right most of the time, if not all the time, but—

“We’re not old, but we aren’t as young as we used to be, you know? Have to take better care of ourselves now…” you continue.

—when you talk to him like this, you humble him. Immensely. 

He’s always known that if he were to give in to anyone, it’d be to you. 

Things are different now, he knows; his considerations have changed too—like how to lay the foundations of a new, ideal jujutsu society, with all the political and diplomatic gymnastics he knows is necessary; what to do with all this downtime, with all this life and no more death looming overhead; there’s also you, where this relationship is headed, what he plans to do. 

“What will I tell everyone when the love of my life, Gojo Satoru, the strongest, gets knocked out by sweets?” 

Then you joke around like this so casually, kissing his nose and calling him the love of your life like it doesn’t bear commitment that spans your–his–entire lifetime—it shakes him a little. 

He holds his breath, eyes staring at yours. You seem completely unfazed—a slip of the tongue maybe, so he lets it go. 

“Okay, okay,” he pinches your nose as you scrunch it, “I’ll try, but no promises.” 

You kiss his wrist in return—the softness of your lips always turning him a little delirious when he feels it. He pulls you closer to his chest, palm pressed to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you tighter. 

“But don’t complain if I only last one rou—” 

He gets kicked in the thigh. 

.

.

.

4 — WHEN IT'S YOUR WAY OR DOWN THE DRAIN

There’s the right way, then there’s the Gojo way. 

Sometimes there’s an overlap, but most times he’s just unorthodox. Gojo’s always had his own way of doing things, but now, he’s throwing all that down the drain in lieu of doing things your way (which in this case, he’s decided is the right way). 

Between the two of you, you’re definitely better at cooking. 

He isn’t inept at it per se; all these years, he’s managed to get by. It’s just that, he’s only ever made quick, simple things—barely having the time or need to make things on his own when you seem to have an extra plate on standby.

Long cooks like this, for real, big meals aren’t his forte at all. 

This is the fullest his kitchen has ever been, a trip to the grocery store producing bags overflowing with the ingredients he needs. He tightens his apron (yours, actually) by his waist, pale pink a stark contrast to his black shirt and gray lounge pants. It’s tiny on him, barely fitting, but it covers enough to (hopefully) save him from any mishaps. 

With all the ingredients lined up on his kitchen counter, he stares, hands on hips as he contemplates where to begin. 

You’ve mentioned before how his kitchen is every cook’s dream: complete equipment, all high-grade with steel surfaces for easy wipe downs and more than enough real estate to move around. It’s a shame he’s barely used it over the years, either too busy out on missions or lately, too often staying at yours.

The unease makes him fidgety.

There’s an air of confidence that normally surrounds Gojo in everything he does, but it wavers just a bit with this one. 

He has to get this right. 

It’s your anniversary—the third (officially), but the number doesn’t matter as much when the years have always blurred the lines of what you are to each other. 

The past two celebrations were cute and fun, adventurous in how you’d spent the first one on a trail date up north, and the second one fruit picking in a farm, just west of Tokyo—things you’d both done for the first time, together. Now, there’s added pressure because this is your thing; everything on the menu for tonight’s home cooked dinner is based on your recipes. 

You know all of this by heart. And though he’s aware he doesn’t have to impress you, he wants to. 

He glances at the clock: 15:05 in white, 4 hours until you arrive. The table hasn’t been set up yet and he’s barely dressed, an array of ingredients on the table waiting to be transformed into four of your recipes he plans to attempt. 

Gojo is no quitter, but it’d be stupid of him to underestimate how fast time flies. 

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list—then he shoots a text, pocketing the device as soon as he hits send.

.

In the amount of time between asking for help and said help standing outside his door, ringing the doorbell, Gojo’s managed to do most of the prepwork: slice all the vegetables, set the rice cooker, and mix together all the sauces and glazes so he can set them aside for later. 

“Just type it!” he shouts from the kitchen.

Four beeps sound from the door, a soft woosh following as it opens. Help enters in the form of spiky hair and a deadpan gaze, putting on house slippers by the genkan as he drags his feet to the kitchen counter. 

“Megumi!” 

The younger boy sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers, long sleeves wrinkling higher. “Why did you call me?” 

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands together, “I need your help.” 

Megumi looks him over, eyes zeroing in on the pink apron, then the bowls of sauces and chopped vegetables in front of him. The rice cooker is steaming beside the sink while empty pots and pans line the burners of the stove. 

“With cooking?” Megumi shifts his attention back to Gojo as the older male nods. He mumbles, “You made it sound like an emergency.”

(“Come here now.” in proper punctuation, lacking any of his usual emoticons—only ever being used in the most dire situations).

Gojo furrows his brows, “It is!” 

Megumi stares. 

“Anniversaries are emergencies.” Gojo stares back, holding the silence for a few seconds before he continues, demeanor turned serious, “Think of it as doing this for your Sensei, not me.” 

There’s a crack in Megumi’s resolve that Gojo knows only appears when it comes to you; a soft spot that exists because you’ve always been closer, warmer—an accumulation of all the times you were adamant on being present because the kids deserved someone there, especially when he couldn’t be. 

Megumi sighs, resigned, as he pushes up his sleeves, trudging over to the sink. He turns on the tap, soaping his hands until it suds, “You should have asked Itadori.”

“Yuuji wouldn’t know how it’s supposed to taste though.” 

“Sensei’s recipes?”

Gojo nods, fanning out pieces of paper from the recipe folder you keep in your kitchen drawer, “Your favorites.”

Megumi scrunches his nose, embarrassed as pink tints the tips of his ears. 

His relationship with Megumi has always been a bit weird, a not-quite-parent-maybe-kind-of-distant-guardian-and-good-but-annoying-mentor-slash-benefactor kind of weird. And he’s sure that the boy isn’t too fond of the idea that he knows small, seemingly trivial things about him like his favorite food, but if there’s anything they can settle on, it’s definitely love for you. 

“Do you have another one?” Megumi turns to Gojo, pointing to the hair band pushing back his hair. 

.

There’s a different kind of care in cooking that he’s now realizing, coming face-to-face with the pot of dashi he’s just started boiling—a patience that comes with waiting and an efficiency meant for multi-tasking.

During the 30 minutes of soaking the kombu, they split tasks: Gojo takes duty rolling the Temaki on his own, while Megumi seasons the Wagyu and prepares the Sunomono. It’s not long before Megumi is directed to setting up the table as Gojo focuses on the Miso Soup. 

There’s a reference photo, some picture he pulled online. The gray plates and silverware on his dining table match the iron-hued backsplash and steel surfaces of his kitchen, sleek but softened by the vase of red and white camellias from the florist you frequent. 

Megumi doesn’t say anything, frankly because he’s gotten used to walking in on Gojo searching up these things: a youtube video of trail dates and articles of ‘the top 10 best farms for fruit picking’. There was also that time he found Gojo’s browser open on a catalog of lingerie.

(Megumi’s been trying really hard to forget that). 

These aren’t things Gojo’s done before, much less thought of—romance and all. 

But he admits, it’s hard work, wiping off the sweat on his brow caused by the heat from the stove. 

“Why,” Megumi sighs, “Why are you cooking anyway?” He mumbles, adjusting the silverware on the table, “Couldn’t you just reserve some place?”

Most of the cook has been silent, with Gojo too focused and Megumi barely saying a word. So while adding the katsuobushi after the kombu boils, the older male answers. 

“I would have, but she said she wanted to stay home,” he turns away from the pot, leaving the katsuobushi to soak as he shrugs. 

Megumi snorts, straightening out the black tablecloth, “Don’t you have anywhere you want to go?” 

It’s a simple question. Innocent. 

But it hits him then, how what you say follows; how ‘anywhere he wants to go’ is wherever you are, how he’s choosing to cook this meal for you instead of just ordering in—-how he’s now considering you, in everything.

This isn’t his strong suit, far from it, really, but because he’s thinking of what you want—suddenly he’s domesticated, cooking for you in hopes of romancing you (even though he already has you).   

You come first now, and he finds that he doesn’t mind. 

He turns back to the stove, straining the soup through a fine-mesh sieve before adding miso paste, dissolving it into the dashi.

“I guess not.” 

The thought stays with him, even as he drops in the tofu, dried wakame seaweed, and green onion. Even as he waits for it to finish cooking, moving the pot atop a different burner while grabbing a spoon to dip in it. 

“Megumi, come taste,” he calls behind him. 

And when the boy sidles up next to him, he feels nervous, fingers trembling as he hands over the spoonful of Miso Soup. He stares at Megumi, eyes wide open, anticipating. 

The boy arches an eyebrow as he takes the spoon, blowing on it gently. He takes a small sip.

“I added less salt because—” Gojo speaks up, a bit panicked, fingers scratching at his nail beds. 

“She’ll like anything you make, even if it tastes bad.”

Gojo’s brows furrow, “Are you saying it’s bad?” 

“Or bland.” Megumi adds, smacking his lips. 

“So it’s bland?”

The horror on Gojo’s face is laughable, but Megumi continues, deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” 

Gojo sighs in relief, then pouts, “Don’t mess with me like that.” 

“I don’t.” Megumi sets the spoon down, walking back to the dining table to finish setting up. 

The 18:03 on his digital clock flickers, and the rest cook continues: he heats up the skillet to cook the Wagyu—Matsusaka Beef, grade A-5, heavily marbled, meant to be tender and sweet. Some oil is drizzled onto the pan before cloves of chopped garlic are thrown in, followed by the beef, cut into bite-sized pieces. He adds a bit of soy sauce and red wine, to draw out the sweetness (or so he’s read), then finishes it up by plating it. 

And, there really is a different kind of care in cooking, he’s now realizing; how, when he stares at what he’s cooked in the past hour, he’s thought of you through it all—your preferences, the way you make things. How big meals aren’t his forte, but for you, he tries anyway. 

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Megumi asks, adjusting the camellias in the vase one last time. He takes off his hair band and ruffles his hair, hands tucking inside his pockets immediately after. 

Gojo looks up from the spread of food on the kitchen counter, motioning for the boy to come closer, “Taste test everything with me.”

Lined up are a plate of Temaki, a wooden board of Wagyu, a plate of Sunomono, and a bowl of Miso Soup. For every bite he takes, Megumi follows. And honestly? He thinks everything tastes… okay. 

The Temaki bursts with the sweet umaminess of buttery salmon dotted with ikura, the yellow daikon pickles adding a tart balance that complements the salmon well by simultaneously being sweet and salty. The avocado adds extra creaminess, while the cucumber and corn provide a freshness that lifts everything else. For some added decoration, he uses radish sprouts to mimic leaves on the filler plants of bouquets—-the main reason he chose to make this: it looks like the bundles of flower arrangements you keep on your desk. What ties everything together though, is the crunchy, crispy texture of the nori, giving contrast to the creaminess it holds inside. 

There’s a reason why Wagyu is so expensive, and it’s being told in the way it melts into his mouth right now, sweet and tender. He paid a pretty penny for this, but it’s worth it because he can’t wait for your reaction. 

The Sunomono is meant to be a palate cleanser—with sesame seeds sprinkled on it, mild and sweet, while wakame seaweed and cucumbers serve as the base ingredients. The sauce is meant to be light, just a mixture of rice vinegar and soy sauce, seasoned to taste—and maybe his is a little lackluster compared to yours, but he swears you have some form of magic when it comes to cooking. 

After each bite, Gojo looks at Megumi for his reaction—but the boy gives nothing away, face blank and devoid of any emotion. None of them are as good as yours, definitely, but for his first shot at this, they aren’t too bad. He’d pat himself on the back for it. 

“They don’t go together.” Megumi regards the entire spread with his chopsticks. 

All his hard work? Shattered. 

Gojo is dumbfounded. 

It’s too late to change everything now. 

Should he just scrap everything and order takeout? 

“But they’re not bad.” Megumi continues, washing his chopsticks by the sink before heading for the bathroom to change out of the house clothes he’d borrowed because there were no more aprons. 

When he emerges, long sleeves and joggers, he asks one last time if that’s all he needs to do, taking Gojo’s nods as a sign to take his leave. The older male remains rooted behind his kitchen counter, frozen from the crisis he’s facing.  

. 

You arrive a little later (thankfully), giving Gojo enough time to figure out this whole debacle. He’s ultimately decided to feel around for how the night goes, then he’ll act accordingly—if you show any sign that you aren’t happy, he has the delivery app ready. 

He dresses in simple slacks and a white button down, fiddling with how he’s rolled it up; the thought of you finally seeing everything he’s prepared for tonight makes him nervous—the table set-up, the ambiance, the food.

(He’s even cleaned up his bedroom).

Then he senses it, faint traces of your cursed energy by the door, and he holds his breath. The beeps on his lock count down the seconds to your entrance; and when he sees you come in, surprised and so amazed at the entire thing, the tightness in his chest eases up immensely. 

All he told you was to wear something nice. 

And, by god you did. 

You walk up to him, pretty and smiling in the simple dress you’d opted for tonight—a midi slip-on with a cardigan thrown on top. Black has always looked good on you, uniform or not, ever since up to now. 

But in white, you’re radiant. Glowing. 

He reaches for you. 

The grin on his face is lovesick as he grabs a hold of your waist. You instantly tiptoe up to kiss him, hands on his shoulders as you land a soft peck that transfers a light sheen of lip gloss onto his lips. The view behind him shows the table set-up, a pop of white and red amidst all the food he’s prepared for tonight. 

Your eyes widen, gasping, “Did you make all of that?” 

He nods, pulling away from you as he grins cockingly, “Call me chef.” 

But he immediately bites his lips, restless as he shifts his weight. He hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is—if you weren’t able to tell from his heartbeat, pressed against his chest. 

“You didn’t have to,” you pout at him, eyes watery as you swipe your thumb across his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipgloss. 

“Guess I’ll just undo everything then.” he chuckles, hands sliding lower to rest on your lower back, fingers tapping against silk. 

You roll your eyes, and before his hands get the chance to grab you lower, you’re whisking him away, holding his hand as you lead him to the dining table.

He pulls out your chair and you sit, the rare gesture making you giggle. As he settles in the seat across you, there’s a disconnect between the expression on his face and his body language—eyebrows wiggling and lips smirking, meant to be lighthearted and teasing, but he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting as he readjusts his seating. 

As you reach for the Temaki, he sucks in a breath, entirely hyper aware of every move you’re making. When you bite into it, he’s waiting. Anticipating. 

Your eyes fall shut as you chew, humming, then you grin. But when you open them and they catch his, it’s like you can tell—what he’s feeling. The furrow on your brows deepens as you look at him, concerned, “Hey, what’re you thinking?” 

How he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up, this dinner. What if the Miso Soup is too bland? Isn’t at all to your liking? What if the Wagyu’s dried out? Isn’t cooked properly? 

If he can’t get this right, this seemingly simple thing, how can he do everything else? Consider you the same way you’ve always considered him? 

He’s so sure of you his heart could burst at it, but what if he can’t ever come to terms with himself? With what he’s able to—

Then he feels it, your hand on his as you reach for him across the table, rubbing the back of it, soothing. 

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s worrying. 

“Megumi said it doesn’t go together,” he stares into your eyes, breathing slowly, grounding. It’s been a while since he’s given you a non-answer, but you accept it, patiently. 

“Megumi was here?” you ask gently, brow arched curiously. 

He nods, “Asked him to help a bit.” 

You hum, looking back at the food on the table before taking his other hand, soothing, “Well, that’s Megumi’s preference. Mine will be different.”

The smile you give him is warm, like the Miso Soup you’re reaching for right now. He watches you take a sip.

“S’good, better than mine.” You hum and he knows you’re lying but it’s still comforting, the fact that you’d do this for him. 

So if this is your effort for him, he isn’t going to waste it.

The rest of the dinner has you making the most exaggerated sounds, your ‘mmm’s and ‘ooo’s emphasizing how good the food is if he still doesn’t believe it. Your reactions are over-the-top and definitely overplayed, but it makes him laugh—-has him grinning in his seat the more he relaxes. 

You help clean up, even though he insists that you shouldn’t. 

“It’s our anniversary, Satoru.” you bump his hip, shooing him away from the table as you stack up the dirty plates. 

When he finishes washing the dishes and turns to find you, sitting atop his kitchen counter, nibbling on a piece of strawberry from the special Daifuku he put out for dessert, he approaches you. 

“Don’t be greedy now,” he rests his hand on your knee, coming to stand in between your legs. You hike your dress up a little bit, just to give him some space. 

You chuckle, cupping your hand under his chin as you feed him; he eats the entire thing, half-bitten by you already. And as the tips of your fingers touch his lips, sticky and syrupy from the strawberry coating, he takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly. 

He holds your gaze.  

“Thanks for doing all this,” you blink twice as he releases your fingers, interlacing them with his, “s’not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life.” 

You say it again—how you call him that so casually. 

What do you mean it’s not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life? 

You do it for him all the time.

He hums, moving closer. His other hand rises higher, kneading the flesh of your thighs through the smooth silk of your midi dress. 

“Thought you were going to spit it out for a second there,” he swallows his nerves. 

“Stop,” you frown, grabbing him by his belt loops before pressing your lips against his forehead, landing a loud ‘smack’, “go away silly thoughts.”

He chuckles when you blow a raspberry on it, laughter easing up as you drag your lips down to the center of his brows, tense from all the worrying earlier. 

You always seem to get it right, he thinks, this whole relationship thing—always knowing what to say. 

He tilts his head up, leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, fully. The breath he lets out mingled with yours, sweet with hints of strawberry, and when he catches your bottom lip you lean back, hands coming to rest on his cheeks. 

You nip on his upper lip, playful but lightly, and he groans, hand reaching up to slot itself by your neck. 

It’s there, underneath his fingertips, the pounding of your heartbeat. 

As you squirm on the kitchen counter, you pull away for a moment, restless from the growing heat. The action is subtle but dangerous as your cardigan slips off your shoulder, revealing the strap and lace of your lingerie. 

Blue eyes land on familiar pink, one he’s certain he’s caught you in before, but seeing it now, under white, it does something to his brain—-blood rushing, ears ringing. 

He leans closer, grabbing you by the waist as he runs his lips against along your neck, nipping on sensitive skin.

“‘Toru,” you gasp, breathy as you grip his shirt. 

“Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs against your skin, muffled. He sneaks one glance at you, pupils blown, before hovering over your temple, lips barely touching, tickling as he whispers, “anything.” 

Your fingers trail lower, pinching at his shirt before you tug, untucking it from his slacks. You turn to him, finding his lips, sliding them over his as you match his rhythm. It’s careful and slow, the way you unbutton his shirt, but it’s like he said—

This is your way; he’ll follow anything you say.

.

.

.

5 — WHEN ALL I SEE IS ME AND YOU

Gojo never thought he’d make this decision all because of your joint streaming subscription. 

It’s a normal weekend, regular in every way possible—just a night in for the both of you. He usually stays over at the end of the week, but it’s been bleeding into the weekdays too, lately. 

The sound of splashing water against tile echoes along the hallway; you normally play songs when you shower, but he guesses today isn’t that kind of day. 

He plops on the couch, pointing the remote to the TV as he selects the streaming app. Normal weekends consist of movie nights, half actually paying attention to the screen, and half paying attention to other things—either way, it ends in falling asleep. 

When the homepage lights up on the screen, he spots two accounts: yours and his. And it’s joint, under one household—your home. 

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been thinking about this more lately: how the past months have been a slow realization coming to terms with himself, and where he sees this relationship going, but the visual in front of him sparks an influx of things he’s been noticing. 

The pajama pants he’s wearing now exist as a pair to a matching set he has with you, but tonight, he’s opted for a white t-shirt because his pajama top is tucked somewhere in the drawers of your bedroom. 

(You keep it with you because you like how it fits more, you say, but he thinks it’s because it smells like him, and you sleep with it when he’s away). 

There’s another pair of chopsticks you always wash now, too, plain bamboo with a ring around the handle, light blue. You’d bought it from a market down the street a year ago, and told him it reminded you of him—-how it’s his from now on, in the container of utensils by your kitchen sink. 

He’s always known how intertwined your lives are, a decade and more of learning one another is bound to entangle you somehow. But the past few years have caused knots, impossible to unravel—a thought that doesn’t scare him as much as it used to; a thought he now thinks doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s with you. 

As long as it’s with you. 

The creaking of the bathroom door snaps him back, the soft pads of your footsteps growing louder as it reaches the living room.

“Oh, you haven’t picked a movie yet?” you ask, ruffling your hair with your towel. 

He puts on a smile, facing you as he hands over the remote, “You pick tonight.” 

.

You barely pay attention to the movie, snuggled up against his chest, constantly looking up to kiss his neck. He’s the same, distracted, but not for the same reasons you are. 

It’s a lot to resist, the way your hands creep under his shirt, warm against his stomach, but the sinking feeling in his gut makes it impossible to focus anywhere else. 

“Not the time?” you tap his cheek, and he tilts chin down, acknowledging you. The look on your face is anything but disappointed, and it tugs at him, makes him feel guilty that he’s making you worry. That he can’t give you what you’re looking for right now. 

“Maybe later,” he takes your hand, lips grazing your fingertips, “I’ll get ready for bed.” 

You nod, sitting up as he taps your hip. He knows you can tell something’s bothering him—it’s impossible to hide anything from you at this point, but this realization feels like a long time coming, like it’s been brewing, now spilling. 

He gets up, kissing the top of your head before walking to the bathroom. 

When he steps in, it still smells like you—the shampoo and bodywash you use. (Technically, it smells like him too—he’s started using yours because it feels like you’re right there, everywhere he goes). 

As he finishes brushing his teeth, reaching for his towel hooked beside yours, he remembers how none of this existed when it was just you. You only ever had one hook for one towel, how he used to share it with you only to realize that it would never dry. 

Then he found it, some time last year, when he walked in to take a shower and found a hook installed right beside yours, presumably his. 

The lights are adjusted for him too; fluorescent white is too bright, a pain for his Six Eyes, so you changed the bulbs to soft white, tinged a bit yellow, warm. 

And thing is, he never asked you to do any of this. 

You just… did. 

Because that’s you. 

And it’s making him realize even more how he wants to keep it this way, how he wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of his life, everyday.

.

The mood shifts when you both get in bed, and if you notice it, you don’t tell him. Whatever was bothering him before has settled, his head clear, more focused to reciprocate your earlier advances. 

He’s gentle when he touches you, taking the time to love you. Your clothes come off one by one with no haste at all, slowly, almost painfully. 

But he kisses you all over, leaves marks on places only he can see—by your hip, at the center of your chest, and another one, visible, on your neck below your ear. This is more than what he usually does, but he feels determined tonight.

“Off,” you whisper, as you tug at his shirt, pulling it off before throwing it to the side of your bed. 

He holds his breath when your fingers land on his chest, dragging across his collarbones before you tap thrice. This is a spot you’ve loved so intently, he’s become sensitive to it every time you come close. You leave kisses along it, some wet, others dry pecks, but it makes him shudder all the same, every time. 

As he hovers above you, arm bent by your head, his fingers trace your lower lip, tugging only to let it bounce back; he kisses you, noses bumping, softly at first before it turns hungry, lips overlapping, biting. His tongue runs over your lips, smooth and warm. 

There are more touches, more gazes; lips brushing and breaths mixing. The heat between you is shared, intermingling, and when he’s in you—

—it’s too much, how he feels looking at you right now, like you’re everything, the only thing seared into his memory. 

There’s a life he wants to give you, and though he knows there are others who might be more able to—he can’t let go of you, refuses to. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being this close, doesn’t even want to think about someone else waking up next to you—the bed hair he always looks forward to, the lazy smile you always give him, the hands that always reach for him, first thing. 

These traces of you have made him want the whole of you, and if this is him being selfish, then so be it. 

His arms wrap around your back, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around him, and you’re both moving, timing in sync, and he’s crying. 

He tucks his face into your neck, and he’s sure you feel everything—wet tears, shuddery breaths, but you don’t say anything. You hold him tighter, fingers scratching his undercut as he gets closer and closer. 

Gojo Satoru is a man of impossibilities. 

And this life he thinks you deserve—he wants to be the one to give that to you. 

.

.

.

+1 — WITH MY KNEES ON THE FLOOR, WHEN I ASK FOR MORE

He shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because what’s the worst thing you can say?

It’s just you. 

It’s just you—

And… maybe it’s because it’s you, that the .01% possibility of you even saying no—

—it makes him feel sick. 

He looks back at the clock: 16:30. The walk from the conference room to his office will take an extra 3? 5? minutes. 

The room feels tighter, smaller, floorboards practically worn down from how much he’s paced around it. 

He’s rehearsed what he wants to say, how he’ll grab your hand and look you straight in the eyes as he does it. Fear and excitement churn in his belly, how he’s imagining the look on your face.

If you were here, you’d tell him to breathe—to follow you with every inhale and exhale. 

If you were here, you’d smile at him, lips curled up softly, gently, the one he loves. 

If you were here—-

—-the door opens, and you step into the room. 

Now that you’re here, he doesn’t know what to say. 

You stand before him in your uniform, smiling, just as he imagined you’d be. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling, the way he’s noticed they have since you were 17. 

He must be doing a terrible job hiding how he feels because your demeanor instantly shifts, face contorting into worry, brows furrowed and frown forming. You drop your bag as you walk to him, hands reaching to cup his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed and delicate, “Did something happen?” 

Your fingers are warm on his cheeks (or is he too cold?), tilting his head lower so you can look him in the eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t hear you properly; you’re drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat. 

“Need to tell you something,” he manages to mutter. 

Your eyes widen before you nod, lowering your hands as you speak slowly, “Okay, do you want to sit first? I have water—”

He shakes his head, hand reaching for your wrist, “I think… you should sit.” 

The pause alarms you, your body turning rigid. He has no idea what’s going through your mind, and you give nothing away as you mumble an ‘okay’ while walking to the couch. 

He stays beside you, not too far but still placing a bigger distance than he normally would—for the 0.01% probability that this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t too close, forcing you into an answer you might not want to say. 

The words float in his mind, but none of them string together to form the sentences he wants to tell you. Does he take it from the start? How this whole thing has always terrified him? How he never thought this was meant for him, but here he is, still learning but loving every second of it?

There are things he’s never had to consider before that he cares so much more about now—all because of you, how it’s for you, how he wants to do better by you. 

You call him the love of your life and he hasn’t told you, but you’re that and more for him, too. 

He practiced this, damn it. 

Why can’t he remember a single thing? 

The silence between you is tense, tainted by overthinking on both ends. You look like you’re waiting for bad news, and Gojo’s too stuck in his head, turning over the right words to say instead of reassuring you. 

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers. His feet won’t stop bouncing, knee fidgeting. He’s biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that there’s a lot he isn’t saying,

You place your hand on his knee to calm him down, and he stops bouncing it, looking at you as you muster up a small smile—far from being genuine, but it’s the fact that you’ve mustered it, as if to say: ‘it’s okay, you can tell me; i’ll always want to hear all of it.’ 

He swallows, “This arrangement isn’t working.” 

Your face drops, brows furrowing, “What arrangement?” 

His heart is pounding. 

“I stay over at yours too much.” 

Too much, that mine doesn’t feel like I belong there anymore, he fails to add. 

“I think we need more space.” 

Your hand on his knee slides off as you tuck it between your thighs. There’s a frown on your face he can’t seem to figure out, and the fact that you’re giving nothing away, whatever you’re thinking—he’s turning even more nervous right now. 

“Okay,” you finally say, tone flat, “when do you want me to return all your things?”

He tilts his head at you, confused, “What—” 

“Actually, can I…” you shift around, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before clearing your throat, “can I ask if it’s something I did?” 

And his heart drops, straight into his stomach. 

It’s not like that at all. 

He’s hit with déjà vu; this conversation feels so familiar, so similar to one he’s had with you before—on the sofa chair across this couch, laying himself bare the same way he is now. 

The couch dips as he scoots closer to you, reaching for your hands. 

“It’s not—”

You scoff sadly, “Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing,” then your tone drops, blinking away your tears, “if you’re going to break up with me, Satoru, just tell me why. Honestly.” 

He blinks. 

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he once told himself he’ll never tell you. 

But now seems like it’s fitting—the right time to say it. 

“You remember when I was unsealed?” he moves to the floor, getting down on his knees in front of you. You nod as he rubs circles over your knuckles, “When I first saw you, it was pretty scary.” 

He brings one hand to your cheek, catching a tear with his thumb. You pout, the crease between your brows growing deeper. 

“You ran yourself dry because of me.” 

When he thinks about it now, he still feels guilty. 

He believes that people are accountable for their own actions, and he still believes that with you, definitely—but he knows your reasons, why you acted that way, desperate for hope everyday. And for that, he takes responsibility. 

“I didn’t want that for you, still don’t.” 

Your frown deepens, tears welling up even more. 

Do you still think he wants to do this without you? 

He can’t take this, seeing you cry; he promised himself he wouldn’t be the reason behind this anymore.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” he tells you firmly, surely. 

You blink. 

Then your shoulders drop as you breathe out—what he hopes is relief. When your eyes meet, a little less sad, he sees the stars in them, glinting like they do when you look at him. 

This should be his answer already, how much you brighten at the thought of staying with him. But—

“I still think you deserve more,” he brings your hands to his lips, brushing them against it, and as you’re about to interject, he chuckles, “but I’m also too selfish to leave that up to someone else, you know?” 

“Soooo,” his hand reaches for his pocket, fishing around until he feels for what he’s looking for. He takes out his phone, swiping and scrolling until he finally stops, placing it on your lap for the both of you to see, “I’ve been thinking lately…” 

He looks up at you, the two skies you’ve always been drawn to, waiting. The unease in his stomach returns, churning. 

It’s a compilation of properties: houses, apartments, plots of land—all scattered around Tokyo, some central and some further on the outskirts. 

Your eyes widen, tilting your head to the side as you attempt to read what’s on his screen. You turn to him immediately, eyes still watery; the expression on your face is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and confusion, like you don’t exactly know what he means. 

“We don’t have to choose from these, it’s just a few brokers I talked to recently. We can look for others if you want, in quieter areas too—” 

Then you smile, beaming, tears falling from your eyes, “Satoru,” and you breathe out his name but it sounds like I love you.

There’s a quiet life he can’t give you, but he likes this one with you much better too. He takes your hands, placing one on his chest, over his heart, and the other on his cheek. Then, he leans into it, kissing the insides of your wrist before staring back at you sincerely. 

His heart is beating wildly, he’s sure, but if he can continue to make you this happy—

“Make a home with me?”

a/n: food descriptions—temaki is easy hand-rolled sushi, sunomono is japanese cucumber salad.

thank you notes: @stellamancer the actual birthday gift for u :') + @em1e for listening to me talk abt the entire plot and even reading the first few scenes!! + @mididoodles @kissxcore @itadorey for always being so supportive when am sharing my progress posts ilu + @crysugu @soumies @augustinewrites @ufo-ikawa no reason other than i just love u ᰔ i reply so slow when am writing smth...

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[leejungchans]

seventeen as streamer boyfriends

༉‧₊˚✧ for my 1k event !

requested by anon : is streamer au on the table for the 1k event :0 if it is then can i request hcs of svt as ur streamer bf :3 if not then u can just ignore this / change it up , no worries !! thenkuu n congrats on the 1k :D

a/n: thank you so much for the well wishes and for requesting 💗 i hope you like this and i had a lot of fun writing this!!

word count | 1.6k

pairing | seventeen x gn!reader

genre | fluff, streamer au

note | i’m not a gamer by any means so there’s a lot of gaming terminology/games that idk, so most of the games mentioned here i looked up online 💔 also tyty to my lovely nny @joshuas @seungcy for helping me w some of these <3

warning(s) / includes | mild swearing, food mentions

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seungcheol

definitely a gamer. gets really, really competitive and probably lets a few muttered curses slip when he loses, before realising he’s streaming live and turns to the camera with an innocent smile, like “if you’re a child please pretend you never heard anything ☺️”. no one’s really complaining though because he’s attractive when he’s frustrated, especially whenever his jaw clenches and he rolls up his sleeves before starting over. his viewers always know when you’re around because he always has the most lovesick smile as he looks off-camera and mouths something to you, usually a “hi, baby” or asking if you want to come say hi to everyone. he’s literally soooo boyfie and his viewers always joke about wanting to steal him from you…that is, until you started appearing more in his streams and now they want to steal you, which makes him so pouty.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jeonghan

mostly games during his streams and yells when he loses or dies unexpectedly, his viewers don’t really mind because his yells sound really cute. sometimes he’ll join public servers and when he comes across snobby, entitled kids he makes it a very personal mission to humble them. “hannie, did you just make another twelve-year-old rage quit?” “mm…maybe…” prefers to keep your identity private, but during some particularly stressful games he’ll ask for cuddles and his viewers can see him wrapping his arms around your torso, squishing his cheek against you with a pout on his face while he whines about how hard the game is. a menace (affectionate), will have asmr streams just so he can suddenly scream and scare the shit out of everyone, no one knows why they still fall for it.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ joshua

the softest, most wholesome streamer. everyone wants him and wants to be him. streams a wide variety of content from baking and cooking to jamming sessions where he plays his guitar and covers different songs. regardless, his streams always look really aesthetically pleasing, especially during his jamming sessions when he changes his colour-changing light to blue or purple for the ~vibes~. everyone loves his voice because it’s so dreamy and melodic, so despite him involving sunday morning in every. single. stream. no one tells him to stop. talks about you all the time and it’s just so painfully obvious how in love he is because everything reminds him of you. “i’m making ___ for dinner because it’s their favourite”, “i saw a really cute cat today and it looked so much like them”, “i wonder when they’ll be home, they’ve been gone for a while”. (it’s only been half an hour…)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jun

another gamer! usually pretty quiet when he’s gaming except when he lets out loud groans or yells after losing, think jeonghan’s asmr from hell except in jun’s case the sudden sounds are unintentional 😭 when he gets especially heated he starts rambling or swearing in mandarin and it’s so fast that barely anyone can catch what he’s saying. takes a break from gaming by streaming more chill content, like answering his viewers’ questions while inviting you to take the most absurd buzzfeed quizzes with him like “which unpopular pizza topping matches your personality”. makes your stomach hurt from laughing every time because he gets oddly (yet endearingly) defensive about the results since they’re never accurate. (“what the fuck is ‘anchovy’ supposed to mean???”)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ soonyoung

tried to play the more intense games like league of legends, call of duty and five nights at freddy’s before realising they’re not really his thing, so now he streams himself playing animal crossing and it’s soooo wholesome. his house is tiger-themed from the wallpaper to the flooring to the decor, and his viewers are 120% supportive of his mission to collect all the tiger villagers for his island for max horangi power 🐯✊ sometimes you’ll play too and it’ll consist of at least ten minutes of you two chasing and whacking each other with your nets while giggling manically. he also started occasionally streaming him dancing or creating new choreographies and his duality always shocks those who are new to his channel.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ wonwoo

the Ultimate™ gamer bf, you can’t change my mind—he was made for this au. sometimes he’s so focused on the game that he forgets he’s streaming and all you hear is the sound of furious typing, but he makes up for it by looking cute in the cat-ear headphones that you got him. you didn’t expect him to wear them while streaming, but ever since you gifted him those headphones he has never gone back to his previous ones. he later bought you the same cat-ear headphones but in a different colour so you could match <3 gives really good advice when he’s chatting to his viewers in between games and they love how soft-spoken and wise he is.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ jihoon

most of his streams are him pulling all-nighters in his studio working on music, even if he’s not particularly chatty in those times he still really appreciates having his viewers’ company because it can sometimes get lonely being cooped up inside :( but ever since he started dating you, you make frequent appearances on his streams to chat with his viewers while holding his hand as he works <3 if he’s feeling cheeky he’ll tease his soon-to-be-released song (everyone went crazy over “shit, this is red too”). somehow became friends with soonyoung which treated his viewers to interesting autotuned raps about being a tiger……rawr.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seokmin

has the voice of an angel, so he blesses us mortal folk by streaming his heavenly song covers. brings his friends (cough, joshua, cough) to sing duets with him whenever possible. the sweetest boy on the platform and does his best to respond to every live comment even though they whizz by so quickly </3 it’s impossible to feel sad when you’re watching his streams, every bit of him radiates positive energy. occasionally does more lifestyle-esque streams, usually of you two running errands together. one time you two rated all the dogs you came across on the street from 1-10. (spoiler: every dog got 11)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ mingyu

the malewife of the platform who games occasionally. his viewers think it’s both hilarious and adorable when a beefy, six-foot man curls up into a tiny ball while playing horror games. (playfully) flirts with his viewers and gives the camera seductive glances, but panics when it leads to a sudden influx of tips and begs people to stop giving him money 😭 constantly demands cuddles and kisses when he loses a game. his viewers love watching his cooking streams where he tests out new recipes because it’s really just him doing 90% of the work but still acting like you won masterchef for cutting one (1) onion. never gets annoyed when you sneak bites of food in between preparations, he thinks you’re cute <3

⋆͛♡⋆͛ minghao

think modern bob ross where he invites his viewers to grab a snack and relax as he paints whatever inspires him in the moment. everyone is begging for a closet tour at this point because he’s never worn a bad outfit from the day he started his channel. asmr not from hell: also does streams where he makes paint from scratch because the sounds of him grinding pigments or his palette knife gently scraping against the glass are very soothing. occasionally he’ll invite you to do cute couple challenges with him, like following a bob ross video but with audio only which always ends in a fit of contagious giggles during the moment of truth.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ seungkwan

such a sweet person :( is here to have a good time, so he’s pretty active and loves doing chatty streams where he plays trivia games with his viewers. keeps up with the gossip especially if you’re a long-time viewer, will absolutely ask you for updates on your pet goldfish stacy. did you buy her a bigger tank like you said you would last time? regularly streams with vernon where they play games like quiplash, questions their friendship and his life every time vernon comes up with a cursed answer. his viewers love whenever you join him while he’s watching true crime documentaries, there’s just something so endearing about you two stuffing your faces with snacks while complaining about how incompetent the authorities responsible for those unsolved cases were.

⋆͛♡⋆͛ vernon

unbothered king, here for the vibes. @/seungcy says he’s the type to play valorant and stare into the camera like 😳 when he wins. has really good taste in music and graphic tees, probably has tons of vinyl records lying in the back or hanging on the walls. makes seungkwan heavily question their friendship with his quiplash answers. started weekly movie watches because he’ll take any excuse to rewatch the shrek movies. the two of you are also on a mission to rank the barbie movies though you always get distracted by the songs and end up belting them at the top of your lungs. it’s okay, his viewers forget about your rankings too because you look so cute resting your head on his shoulder with his hand on your knee <3 (island princess has yet to be dethroned)

⋆͛♡⋆͛ chan

kinda sucks at games (affectionate) but he makes up for it with determination and perseverance, and his viewers let it slide because he’s cute. asks for game recommendations and regrets it every time because people won’t stop making him play the spooky ones. is terrified and flinches at the tiniest noises but will vehemently deny it. no one is allowed to bring up the time he screamed when you barged into the room asking him what type of pizza to order. also likes watching romance movies/shows while you’re wearing your matching hoodies and cuddling. if you see him crying at the sad parts just move along and don’t point it out <3 he’s cute ig.

a/n: writing this was fun!! tysm for reading and i hope you liked it!!

please reblog and/or give feedback if you enjoyed my writing ! support the creators and content you wish to continue seeing <3

[batarangsoundsdumb]

yet another ask dump yeehaw!

do you ever think that jay's mother was one of those bitch who believes in horoscope and tarots and things like that and so he believes in these things too, or it is just me projecting?

sheila haywood took one look at jason's birthchart said 'nah this won't do' and left.

Wait, but what happens when the justice league does find out that Bruce and John fucked? Lmao it sounds like it would be hilarious, really, I don’t want a justice league that doesn’t make fun of Bruce for like his entire life.

barry runs out of the meeting immediately and comes back with an entire sti testing kit. diana fully seriously wants bruce to get tested while bruce is sitting there like 'come on guys, you're being ridiculous, i already checked twice'

john is standing in the corner clearly offended while bruce is just like 'don't even say anything, constantine, you fucked a shark'

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

on the one hand, good for him, on the other hand, bro, how do you still have a secret identity when your superhero name is just your last name,,,,

Your fic on ao3 was GOLD PLEASE CONTINUE I loved Dinah's cameo btw ( @purple-vixen

thanks so much! i already continued but this ask is like 10 years old because i'm a notorious procrastinator (also yes! i love dinah so much aahhhhhhhhhhhh)

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

bruce internally: holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit holy fuck holy shit bruce externally: get out of my city, alien

AHHH ur multimedia fic is the only thing that brings me happiness anymore continue it forever pls

uhh thanks, but can't continue it forever because my attention span is that of a toddler on crack on a good day and i can't function without at least 10 things going on at the same time and music in the background

Oi, so I'm getting into dc and watching batman the animated series, and they use fruitcake a lot. Which I thought was very funny and wanted to share w you - Denilla

wait like fruitcake (food) or fruitcake (derogatory) ?

young justice 🤝 teen titans slut shaming batman

tim drake and dick grayson to their respective teams 'you guys stop it, that's my dad'

Happyhoganon: If an eighty year old Batman had fought crime in Gotham City for decades and the only threats to him and the city lately are a wheel chair bounded Penguin, your usual purse snatchers and a few con artists popping up every now and then, how well could the Dark Knight do in maintaining the peace in Gotham despite him being just somewhat fit to do that as an elderly man (which says A LOT given how old he is)

uhh he'll probably do what my grandpa does and that is ruthlessly prank them until they die of shame.

in the death in the family interactive movie there's an ending where Jason is tasked with raising Damian and he decides he's gonna raise Damian to take down the waynes and al ghuls which uh maybe isn't great BUT the idea of Jason raising Damian... PRICELESS. CHAOTIC. I just need more people to know about this :)

yes i saw that wow holy shit but jason would accidentally drop damian on his head one (1) hour in and jason just yeets him into the lazarus pit.

Headcanon: The Penguin has a really hard time fighting any of the Robins because of his avian obsession means there's always a small part of his mind that's like "Birb. Child. Protect" ( @subspacecadet )

as soon as dick becomes nightwing the penguin is like 'you know what, fuck this dude' and shoots at him.

Y'all talking about King Shark dating Constantine, let's not forget about John literally hooking up with Satan

listen there's a clear difference between monsterfucker and satanfucker in that king shark is literally a shark and satan still looks like a normal dude

Does everyone in Gotham think Batman is a teen dad?

everyone in gotham thinks batman has been around since gotham was founded, but they do think that bruce wayne is actually a teen father and dick grayson's biological dad.

why. why would you do that fancast when you know it will only hurt people

what? i loved my fancast it was really well done. i did it with good representation in mind and i really managed that with alfred pennyworth being ✨italian✨

Seeing james charles a jason gave me psychic damage how dare you i need to wash my eyes

well that's a you problem isn't it?

do you think dick grayson thirst tweets about nightwing just to annoy his family/cause problems on purpose in general?

he thinks nightwing is hot, next question.

holy jiminy cricket batman, its as cold as the good lords ass crack in here!!

i- what? this is why i don't fuck with english expressions it's way too goddamn weird

Brooooooo, your teen dad!Bruce au is soooo good. I've got brainrot.

Honestly if you ever write anymore, I'd read that shit twice. Sign me the fuck up. Good stuff, Good Stuff.

uh yeah i'm thinking about writing a fic, but i have exams coming up and i don't wanna fail because that would suck. but after i'll certainly be writing more tho

your teen dad AU is so great! bruce acting like a big brother for all of like a week before he's telling everyone about his son. what if in the AU dick meets the JL because they need to rescue him? maybe he's in trouble/kidnapped at a gala and bruce starts calling for JL. clark finds him and has to fly with dick to bring him home - that's how dick and clark meet and superman becomes dick's fave hero. he goes around the manor thinking he can fly with a red blanket draped around him like a cape.

actually- if you want a young dad! bruce fic with like that kinda stuff(just with damian) go check uhh- in for a penny by cdelphiki. it's really good and bruce is like 24/25-ish. (and dick's there!!!)

This account has solely convinced me that Tim is a trash goblin ( @hamilcat-and-magic-turtle )

because he is. that boy has slept in dumpsters on multiple occasions even if he is the son of a billionaire.

Okay but when you said victory dance I did think of the whole justice league defeating the big bad and then they all start flossing

well that's exactly what hal jordan does and that's why batman uses a gun now. no but the victory dance in my opinion is like the 'we're all in this together' dance from high school musical.

The horrors in Invincible s1 was nothing compared to the comics, I cant wait for s2

oh well okay, i mean i personally react to horror and violence by laughing awkwardly so i can't wait to be called a monster for accidentally laughing at a mass murder.

I'm currently watching Batman: The Brave and The Bold and- Bruce is just talking about Oliver like he's an old love (@nightwings-kid)

okay im going to watch that lmao that's totally and completely in character for him tho.

The invincible comic is like super gratuitous with its violence so much so I'm shocked the show was able to adapt it in a faithful way! Anyway had the show been live action it absolutely wouldn't have the same impact as it does as an animated show and I'm so glad so many people agree with me on that

also because a live action casting would've been like uhh amanda stenberg for amber, the dude- the guy from the supernatural but with a mustache for omni-man, and scarlet johanssen for debbie grayson

Debbie grayson is a milf, yes. You're welcome for the invincible propoganda, now you can questions your life. Bruce def seems like the perfect father next to Omni-man. Like they really took a rip off justice league and I was like well, now I'm attached even tho I was like hah I know who they're supposed to be. And then bam- death gore death gore gore gore sad Mark grayson just had to have daddy issues. Why does every character have daddy issues. I'm sick of the attacks

because daddy issues make a person arguably funnier, that's why i'm not even remotely funny (haha good dad flex). i liked that it was dark contextually, but not in the colouring, bc i hate when it's like 'uh yeah graphic murder and now a shot so dark you have to sit in a dark room and squint at the screen to faintly see the characters. (like dcau ugh)

About the Wayne insurance, for a moment I thought you would put the video with moans over the waves.

i mean- i could've done that, but rick rolling seemed more family friendly.

Its the first time in forever that im surpise rickrolled, i usually expect it. Congratulations (i really should know better this is tumblr)

i get rickrolled so often but i actually like the song so i dont really give a fuck

Actually, my information about Damian and John's kids is outdated because it was revealed that the old men telling the kids stories about the Supersons were actually Jon and Damian the whole time. I was blinded by my thirst for Grandpa!Bruce Wayne but I was wrong... I liked my version better, tbh (@artemisa97)

fair enough. but i'd honestly like to see damian and jon getting together, just because it's a really fun dynamic and their friendship was really cute when they were kids. (also idk maybe it would be nice to have one (1) main batfam/superfam character that's not cishet)

How am i JUST finding your blog skdskfkd you're so fucking funny and ur takes are hot

i thought u were calling me hot :( but youre not :( crime detected (but lmao thanks)

So I have depression and I swear that your memes are one of the few things that have made me laugh so thank you 💛🥺 (@katekanebadass)

aw you're welcome, and i hope you're doing okay!

The metropolis memes are so funny, I love them 💀😌

i think metropolis is also so fucking funny it deserves more attention imagine having your entire police force being upstaged by an alien from kansas and his kids

as an american i feel your complete lack of knowledge of us geography is just so sexy (platonic) ❤️

thanks so much (i also don't know any other geography, i'm not kidding, like you can tell me you're from hungary and it will just blank, there will be nothing that comes to mind)

In the DC universe they don't say "Can't have shit in Detroit" they say "Can't have shit in Gotham"

this just reminds me of that guy whose porch got stolen like the steps to his door, and i'm thinking of people living in gotham and waking up without a front door and going "can't have shit in gotham"

honestly all i know about chicago is the bean, so. what would gotham's famous sculpture be?

gigantic gargoyle statue in front of one of the police precincts because a villain thought it was a smart way to keep the police inside, but it's too heavy to move.

why tf do people go on about how batman "works alone" or how he's the "lone wolf" when he like 38290202 members in his family

bc people think it's cool that a grown man in his 30s has no friends or family instead of calling it what it is (sad)

Bruce is gotham's sugar daddy

why would say something so controversial yet so brave.

my favorite batfamily fanfictions are the ones where they use their shitty codenames, unironically, in any context

dick: gerard way are you in position, gerard way are you in position

tim: for the last fucking time, my codename is 'totally not count olaf' this week, abbafan 3000

dick: shut up my codename isn't 'abbafan 3000'

dick: it's 'abbafan number 1' and you know it

I have a feeling Tim drake is ur favourite batfamily member but okay u don't have favs if u say so ok

i mean he is, i won't deny it. but i love each and every one of the batfam just the same, i just have a weak spot for short dumbass nerds, because i'm a short dumbass nerd.

Omg i fuckin love boy meets world too fam shsjkfk

bro boy meets world was the shit!!! it was just fire and awesome and so fucking great like bro. it was so good im not even going to be accepting criticism

you know I find the whole "joker completes batman" thing a bit disgusting considering the horrendous stuff the batfamily went through because of the joker and let's not get started on the "joker has a point" thing like yeah he's this cool complex villain but he's absolutely batshit crazy

like yes! i get what you mean the joker just fucking sucks man he doesn't do shit for batman's character or the batfam he's literally just annoying as fuck. like the joker has a point' shit is so stupid. i will accept 'magneto was right' because he fucking was and i think he didn't do anything wrong, but joker? he's just like that. he's not even cool and complex he's just a weirdo with a bleach kink at this point.

ALSO YOUR RACISM POST- SO TRUE BESTIE

thanks bestie, i'm glad you agree.

in today's essay of why I think cass should become batman- I was thinking Tim would probably be the most efficient batman in many ways but I also think he wouldn't want to be batman tbh none of the batfamily members would want to be batman because they're trying to outgrow him but cass is the one who wants to represent the symbol that is batman

absofuckinglutely i will say it again and again that cass represents the batsymbol more than anyone in the batfam, in batgirl (2000) she literally didn't care about anything else than bruce's oath to not kill, she thought the batsymbol was more important than anything in gotham. she's just an excellent character because her motivation to not kill is not 'i'm scared i can't come back from it' or 'well my dad says no murder so i'll go along with it' but that she's killed somebody as a young child and she never wants to kill a human ever again and that's so fucking beautiful for a new batman like yes.

need more cass, duke and tim inclusion in gothamite memes

yes yes, a tall order of cass, duke and tim coming up in 1-14 business days

oldest to youngest batfam members cus I'm confused as shit

okay order of being taken in: dick, jason, tim, cass, damian, duke order of age: alfred, bruce, dick, cass, jason, tim, duke, damian (though cass and jason are around the same age general consensus is that cass is a little older)

I'm so confused Steph is a redhead?? like how was it that hard to get this right? the source material is literally right there and free

cw is jared, 19

do you receive anon hate? if so, how do you deal with it

uh no, i'm not remotely popular enough to get anon hate and i also don't say a lot of things that would attract anon hate, but i do send anon hate to @the-real-peter-parker because he forgot about the specialists from winx club

Wait how many languages do you speak??

uhh- 5 if you include latin, but that's a dead language and i'm really bad at it. but english, my native language, german, and french also, tho german and french not fluently.

You can mix aguaepanela with aguardiente 😈 and is tasty

okay but now i'm curious if the liquor deserves the 😈 emoji or if that's a you problem. but i googled it and it looks like something you'd take one sip of and then not remember the rest of your evening.

[juunithebunny]

you randomly made me remember you when randomly liking stuff i rbed! had to say the way you paint is SO GOOD! inspiring even and making me want to return to my older projects to continue proper painting in digital! if you have any tips, can i have some please? if not, that is okay. i hope you have a nice day!

Oh my, thank you so so much for this! I’m all flustered haha!

Glad to hear you’re returning to trying digital painting, I gurantee it’s the most fun one can have with working digitally (at least..for me)..

I’m probably not the best person to give out tips due to me forgetting to use my own rules from time to time, but there are three things that come to mind that have helped me to get better!

1. Inspiration/references. While yes, refs for drawing are important, what I mean by this is that I look at how other people paint. At one point I was super inspired by this cheesy and colorful fantasy artstyle so when I didn’t draw, I was looking at how people with that style did! Then when I try out to replicate say for example the way someone does rim light it can help me understand how I want to do rim lighting in future….if that makes sense.

2. Brushes. Really depends on what look you want for the painting, but getting to know what you can achieve with what brushes can set the tone. There are some great brush packs I can recommend for photoshop (they should work for CSP too) such as Kyle T Webster’s watercolor pack (I use Fat brush a lot), Iben Krutt’s traditional media brush pack and Jens Cleassen’s brush packs. These brushes are great for very textured painterly style! However, the greatest discovery that made me level up with my digital painting was that sometimes the defaut round brush is the best way to go. Nowadays I do 90% of my stuff with it, and use other brushes for specific things!

3. B&W. Well, this is just a helpful way to prepping honestly! If I’m doing a bigger piece especially, i like to do the initial phases of the painting in black and white first. This means sketch paint, quick refining, mapping out lighting and big shadow areas etc. It helps to piece out work with lots of elements in it when you don’t have to worry about colour at all! I wish I had done this all the time when I started out…

+4 do what feels best for you! If something everyone else does just doesn’t suit you, don’t force yourself. I for example couldn’t do comprehensible sketches for the life of me so I just stopped and started painting process right away! Now years later I’ve started to learn how to sketch properly and it’s fun! Also, I can’t do cleans lines, never have…. soooo…I don’t. If you see lines in my works, it’s something I do as last touch up after painting to make some parts pop out etc. Maybe one day I will learn, but right now I rather skip the hassle..

[nsfwsportsanimebabes]

S/O with the best vibes headcanons

Description: can I request kuroo, and the Miya twins w a fem s/o or crush (whichever u want:3) who’s room has just like the most chill vibes, like they have a record player, lots of plants, books, fairy lights, and a cute colour theme that they just adore. Maybe like their first time coming to visit & staying till 2am cause it’s just so welcoming and calm?

Requested: YESSSS OF COURSEEEE🥺🥺🥺 this is so pure and I’m excited to get these hashed out for you🥺🥺🥺 honestly both your admins HARDCORE relate to these vibes. Like we both have these things scattered between our apartments. So you’re really pulling on some great vibes here. I’ll try not to go too overboard 😉☺️

A/N: soooo uhhh. I’m not dead.. lolol. Just kinda reallyyyyy lost any motivation to write for not only this blog, but any writing in general honestly. BUT this blog is still kicking, we do still take requests in, and love seeing them. I plan on doing a few more requests and/or WIPS that motivation comes for. 

Also..I apologize if Osamu’s isn’t the greatest, I did his first and this is the first scenario type post I have done in a longgggggggg time. But regardless hope you all enjoy! ~Admin Crow 💚

Miya Osamu

“and if you push this button on the remote you can totally change the colors to the lights too. Pretty neat right?”

To be honest, Osamu didn’t hear much of your explanation of all the things in your room. Mostly because he was overwhelmed by the pure vibes coming from your room. He was a little surprised that you had invited him over to study. You two hadn’t been dating for very long, so inviting him over to study, in your bedroom no less, had taken him by surprise. But of course curiosity got the best of Samu, so he wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity. Looking around, he noticed the way your lights were set up to give off whatever color you wanted to hit every corner of the room. And how your cute little starter plants overtook your dresser. Candles of specific colors adorned your bookshelf where you had organized them by color to match an obvious theme you were going for. Osamu especially enjoyed the record player that had music softly playing; the record turning slowly to match the music coming out of it. He’d have to investigate your books and records later when you showed him your favorite ones. 

He took in the way your lights had pictures hanging from them, most of them were pictures you had taken with your friends. But he noticed the corner by your bed had ones the two of you had taken together. For some reason Osamu found that really sweet. 

“Samu? Did you here me? Hello, earth to Osamu.” you called out, trying to gain the attention of your boyfriend, who had been staring at your fairy lights after taking in your room for a solid 3 minutes without looking or acknowledging you comments. You were nervous about what his response to your room would be. The way you decorated your room was in a way that really showed who you were, and you didn’t want to just share that with anyone. 

Osamu finally realized you were calling him and turned to look at you with a lazy smile noticing your slightly guarded look and could tell you were waiting for a response. “Come here F/n, there’s no reason to be anxious, I totally think your set up is amazing. Show me more?” 

Miya Atsumu

 “You have so many books F/N! How the hell do you afford all of these!?” Atsumu had never seen so many books outside of a library in his life. The fact that you had two full size, five shelf book shelves in your room side by side. Each bookshelf adorned with rows and stacks of books taking up every possible space that you could cram a book into. 

You rubbed the back of your head blushing slightly “well....I found most of them at bookstores, thrift stores, sales, friends and family who gave them as gifts...” you rambled, not sure what his response would be. 

Atsumu ran to another corner of your room immediately starting to flip through your almost equally impressive stack of records. When you had invited Atsumu over to work on a school paper together, you didn’t know what his thoughts of your room would be. Even though you two had been best friends since you were 6, he had yet to been inside your room. Although your locker at school had a lot of similar vibes as your room, a few mini plants you had snuck into school were on the top shelf, pictures adorning your locker door, and other things gave Atsumu an idea of your inner vibes. 

It was something he really loved about you. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was dying to see what your room looked like. Any chance to get closer to you was really his end goal. I mean, he’s been trying to go over to your place for years to be shot down every time. But the opportunity had finally arrived and you had caved, finally allowing him the opportunity into your private life. 

“Hey F/N, got any secret journals hidden amongst all of these books full of secrets you haven’t shared with me?” he teased going back to the books scattered over your desk. 

Sighing, you sunk into your corner of comfy, plushy bean bag pillows and called for him to join you “Knock it off Tsumu, get over here and sit down so we can work on this paper please?” 

Atsumu took one look at the comfy looking pile before taking three long strides and plopping down onto the one next to you, jostling you and your laptop in the process. “I could really get used to hanging out here F/N. I say we start having movie nights at your place. In fact, let’s just do everything over here from now on.”

“Don’t push your luck there Tsumu.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“can I choose the next record F/N?” 

Looking up from your sketchbook, you noticed your boyfriend looking over at you with a lazy look. To be honest, he looked completely at home, fitting in with the glow of the fairy lights that you had dimmed just enough to allow you guys to see what you were doing. 

Kuroo had been surprised when you suggested doing homework together at your house, since his room was the usual hang out spot, unless you chose to be outside in nice weather. It’s not that he didn’t think you didn’t want him in your room, he was just usually the first to suggest studying over at his place. 

But seeing the way your room just gave off vibes that were purely, you, had Kuroo ready to study and hang out here all the time. He found your room a chill environment, but still productive enough that he wasn’t wasting his time studying. He had particularly enjoyed flipping through your pile of records, and naming off fun facts of all the cute plants you had scattered in perfect places in your room to capture the sunlight. 

You nodded at Kuroo’s question, returning to your sketchbook, immediately getting lost in the drawing you were working on for class again. A few minutes later you recognized the soft melody of your and Kuroo’s favorite song coming from the record player. Suddenly two strong, volleyball and chemistry note taking worn, hands gently took your pencil and sketchbook from you. Setting them down next to you before pulling you to your feet and into your dorky boyfriend’s arms. 

“Tetsu you cannot dance for your life. What are we doing?” you laughed, letting him pull you close and swaying with him. 

“I can’t dance?! Excuse me have you not seen the grace and beauty that I have on the volleyball court? What makes you think I can’t use that to dance with my beautiful girlfriend?” he defended, although you both knew you were right. 

Laughing you took control, despite the obvious difference in sizes between you two, and spun under his arm, enjoying the quick way he caught himself from tripping. Whether the two of you could dance or not, it didn’t matter. Spending this time with Kuroo was like the world had stopped moving around you. If you could spend forever here in his arms in your room forever you certainly would. 

Although it wouldn’t be spent dancing as Kuroo ruined that moment by throwing you over his shoulder and flopping down on your bed deciding it was time for cuddles while enjoying the rest of your album playing your favorite songs. The two of you laughing and sharing special secret moments that would stay inside your four bedroom walls for eternity.