#i really struggled w a lot of this so im glad it turned out well

[skitskatdacat63]

Process :]

“Amore et Timore” - King Fernando I “El Animoso”

[liauditore]

Thought I might say hello and make some small talk, seeing that I'm camping on your trafficshipping tag and all.

Well hi! Lovely place you've got here. Fantastic art, GREAT vibes, very nice. I'm specially enjoying your character rambling; your takes on them are super interesting and they tickle my brain 👀

May I send Divorce Fource/Quartet and Majorwood for the shipping bingo? Divorce Fource were a right mess (affectionate <3) and a perfect one at that, but I can't help but wonder how the recipe would have turned out if the soul ties were Cleo-Pearl, Martyn-Scott.

Also there is so much potential in Limlife Majorwood for eroguro if you're nasty. Which I am. Time cannibalism, respawning mechanics, birthday time... blender go brrrr 👀

!!!!!!!

y'all are really enabling my habit of long ass posts huh 😭😭

OK SO first off thankyou so much?? thats so sweet?????? 😭😭 i really don't think my character ramblings are anything special, but i like reading other ppls insane takes so i thought i'd provide others with the same 👍

not to get too into it but i feel like a series like life smp is best enjoyed with your own crazy delulu takes (similar to touhou if anyone heres familiar w/ that fandom). and it makes me kinda sad to see ppl arguing abt whats 'canon' or 'correct' cus that's no fun lol

ANYWAY yeah uh im glad u like the vibes!! :J

TREEBARK

this one first cus chronology. I honestly don't know if there's anything I can say here that hasn't been said before? But yeah they're. tasty. something about martyn waiting the entirety of third life to betray ren and never getting the chance and now longing to have him back. lots of regret but regret. for what. yknow. and ren always looking out for martyn even from a distance. and then martyn losing that connection in limlife.

yeah i can see why people ship lmao

uhh i don't really know what else to write here so have some of my insane ramblings copy+pasted from my shipping doc 👍

Martyn fancies himself a schemer, someone who's not afraid to play the game the way it's intended. If that means earning a powerful ally's trust only to shatter it then he was going to do it. Only, Martyn's bark is worse than his bite, and every night he spends in lying awake in those soft, warm sheets that Ren had laid out just for him (freshly washed too, he might add. Smelled like sunshine) he wonders if he can do it. He can, of course. (he can't. he won't. he's too soft. soft and useless.) He'd cut his head off already. (he wants to vomit) (this is why no one needs you. wants you. loves you) Who cares about other people anyway? He is the only one who really matters. (the thought of being alone makes him want to cry) Ren, on the other hand, is a capable leader. The definition of loyal and dependable, if not a bit dramatic. He struggles with self-worth, being good enough, useful enough, powerful enough. But to others, he's the opposite, caring and protective of any who would ask for his aid. After all, every citizen deserves to live in safety and comfort, and providing that is what a good King would do. ~ Martyn's not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Ren knows. Ren sees the signs. It's a death game for a reason. But he doesn't let Martyn know. He doesn't even hold it against him. He doesn't see the bloodthirst anymore, only the broken pieces lying underneath. ~ or the King's Hand, it was the thrill of feeling Useful, Powerful, Feared (loved). He was going to miss it after he betrayed him, the high of bloodlust, the smell in the air as he charged into battle. (the way his hands held him so gently) For the King himself, deep down he knew it was never to be. He had met a monster, but he hoped his efforts calmed the storm ever so slightly. On some days, he pretends to forget about the death game entirely and imagines the speech he'd give to retire his Hand. "You don't have to fight anymore," he'd say, "I'll take care of you from now on, I promise. So put the sword down, okay?" But in the end, it was all a fantasy, wasn't it?

^ yes this is so cheesy but so are they.

Cry with me again Smile with me again Scream with me again Sing with me again Dance with me again Talk to me again…

"Lower One's Eyes" (Oktavia translyrics)

MAJORWOOD

I think.. I talk too much abt scott seeing as that's who everyone points out when it comes to my headcanons 😭😭 but uh i swear everyone else is just as messed up. and martyn is like. just as bad if not worse (if that wasn't made clear from my ramblings before)

anyway uh say it with me rebound 👏 relationship 👏

i think they're both.. very numb to it all once limlife rolls around. they're just tired and have this mutual understanding and both think they're horrible people. martyn just wants to play the game. scott doesn't even know what he wants anymore.

but ofc, they're both still human and want love and comfort, so they try to seek that from one another. even if it's fake. even if it doesn't matter in the end.

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

Washing Machine Heart (Mitski)

We’re the Delusioned Victim Cash-in Union Praise to the “love” that will bring salvation!  Two fools singing to a shallow melody Restart, reflation, teleportation Time and again we’re stuck in rotation Circles inside a love without any ending

MKDR (SirHamnet Lyrics)

Scott uses Martyn as a replacement for Jimmy and Martyn uses Scott as a replacement for Ren. they know they dislike eachother (see: all of double life) and that only one of them will make it out alive. but they can't get that love and comfort from anyone else now.

also uhhh eroguro my beloved...... im assuming this is getting brought up cus of my mentions of loving eroguro in the past. and yes to all of that very much i agree. but i do have kind of.. a limit to what i do w/ these characters specifically because of the fandom/ccs (at least publicly). if i ever do decide to share the nastier stuff in my head or go into detail on gore and whatnot i'd probs make a sideblog and tuck it away and maybe block scott and martyn for always somehow showing up on my posts lmao

[ohshy]

Apart from Hipercy, what are your favorite punch out fics?

im assuming u meant ships right?? IN AAANY CASE, here u go bro !!

Royal army (von kaiser x king hippo) is definitely up there as my favorite PO ship. I love how it started out as a crackship from a joke in animal crossing but then just delved into Whatever the fuck w/ maber KJDHKSJF.

But seriously though !! they just Work somehow... like you have both of them having royal names (albeit i hc hippos is an actual title he carries, and kaisers more of a stage name bc of his interest in royal n military history). Plus, I think kaiser would b very interested in learning more ab hippos culture n hippo would b happy to indulge him. It's what elevates Kaiser from ''just another peasant'' to Hippo as someone who he's willing to talk to! Not many people take his title seriously as hippo island's fairly unknown outside of the south pacific hes from, so when they first meet, Kaiser's a huge breath of fresh air to him.

Seeing as Kaiser is a polyglot as well in my HC, I like to think he was one of the few people in the WVBA who had prior knowledge of Hippo Island and it's language. Although Kaiser can only speak a couple basic sentences and struggles with the pronounciation, Hippo still appreciates the effort. In turn, Kaiser has also taught Hippo some German, the language being easier to Hippo due to the sounds made.

Totally T4T (tism4tism).

ALSO imagine the hippo island kids n kaiser's academy kids going on some type of exchange w/ one another !! theyd have the time of their lives !! The kids would totally get into an argument over who's cooler too.

They're a lot like opposites attracting as well. Hippo, although he is responsible to his people, is generally a lot more easygoing n defo helps kaiser let loose a bit more like how he did in his 20s (berliner party days baybe !!!) But Hippo learns a lot from Kaiser too ! he really admires his work ethic, and loves how much of a leader n fatherly he is to the kids he teaches. He admires his resilience as well, both having confided much into eachother. His resilicience almost like a... MACHINE?!? Either way, both have positions in which they lead in some way, and theyve both taught eachother a lot.

Also they bond over dead mother figures (hippos who died of illness, and kaiser's who went missing when he was very young.)

As for how they'd butt heads, would be kaisers endless need to seek approval due to his dad being emotionally constipated, and hippos occasional emotional outbursts (poor emotional regulation). also hippos friendly teasing (how he shows affection, aside from physical contact) sometimes strikes a nerve w/ kaiser, esp if it's about his age or career.

One time, after a particularly exhausting match, kaiser just fell asleep on hippos lap as the latter was holding him. Aran walked by in disbelief, w/ hippo going ''heh, jealous? ;)'' w/ aran going ''Nah, not at all''

One last thing.... hippo sees kaiser as a kitten (thank you maber for that idea i am obsessed); kaiser's height n physique r significantly smaller than hippo's, leading to hippo often times patting him on the head n even picking him up like he weighs nothing. Kaiser secretly rly likes it, but he won't tell him directly because yknow... hes got a rep to protect.

^ Kaiser to Hippo

other ships i like include.... Red bull (soda x bull) burnt bread (joe x aran) u can blame charlie for both those (jk jk bro im glad u got me into those ships. But please read his fics, thats how i got into them) and disco kid x heike kagero !!

Red bull is just very neat bc of the whole, in simple terms, sunshine x grump dynamic (and im saying simple terms bc charlie's fics flesh out their relationship A LOT more n its basically the best ok go read his fics), burnt bread bc of how unlikely yet funny it is, and disco x heike bc, eventhough theyve never interacted, you KNOW theyd absolutely be bffs at the very least.

[petorahs]

☀️ its fascinating that you say P3 has shaped your worldview because... Well not to trauma dump here but back then when I discovered the game (it was back then when p4 was already out) i was... In a REALLY bad place and wondering about unaliving myself. I wont go into much detail but kids are trash man and teens are even worse. and then this game came around. With an aesthetic I really liked. i am not a native english speaker so it was hard for me at first but somehow this game just... /spoke to me/. A game about life and death and what it means to be alive and what it means to have a REASON to live, somehow... Convinced me to go a bit longer. I mean it when I say this: Persona 3 saved my life. And no other game can ever come close to such an experience. (Even tho from a quality standpoint P5 certainly is up there)

oh dude that is so valid thank you for sharing this. seriously though, im happy that youre here! and im sure many others are too! the ☀️ brightening lives and all that :]

yea i can see why p3 just clicked with so many people since it first came out. i was always curious on why it's so beloved by fans, when p5 and even p4 are literally right there with their overall better gameplay experiences. p5 literally got the franchise mainstream to insane heights lol. im... so glad i got into persona the way i did. of course, everyone's experiences w these games are different and special to them in their own way.

i got into persona 3 as an adult and as a result the lens in which i viewed the story's themes were heightened, in a way. as a teen i just know i would have reacted more volatilely i struggle to think about it LOL but both experiences would still be pretty intense. it's just that, as an adult there's more room to digest it when im not troubled by algebra hw. i was just more equipped for it (also i played omori two summers ago LMAOO). ofc i only turned 20 a few weeks ago LOL but i get why p3 means so much to people.

because it's like... 2000s nostalgia coupled with a game that figuratively holds your hand through the uncertainty of death yknow? p3 is a friend, basically. its entire thesis is based upon companionship (exactly what i highlight in an analysis i have drafted somewhere but HHH i dont want this to get too long lmao)

in the shaping my worldviews thing... its really more like it cemented my 'philosophies' :] like i said, equipped with the stuff i learned before, p3 having the message that it did just... hit super close to home! like yeah! that's what i've been saying dude!! kindness really is enough!!

"You don't have to save the world to find meaning in life... Sometimes all you need is something simple, like someone to take care of."

LIKE YEA GIRL THATS EXACTLY IT!! its so cool! i actually admire people who grew up with p3 because man if i heard this line ages ago... well, again, idk if i would be able to grasp it fully at the time... but still! this is so good, poetry in motion. and like u said its aesthetics are gorgeous and aim to capture the essence of its themes - and it did.

im a p5 baby like bro i love p5. soft spot for it. thats the closest persona game i "grew up" with and it came at such an opportune time for me, being a teen stuck between a rock and a hard place. typical. and p5 validated my teenage angst bs so much. its so refreshing to see a game's theme being rebellion. that was me i thought. those characters are going through something that similarly happened to me. teenage rebellion is such a fun thing to explore!

so p5 validated my struggles while p3 did something deeper than that, somehow. i think it just made me .. stronger? like it made me move on from struggles. "by remembering death you learn how to live" so... i guess p3 taught me how to live as crazy as that sounds. but you get me

persona 5 overall is great -- everyone agrees, like its objectively just a better game. but persona 3 ends up more beloved because of its subjective value as a piece of art. there's a lot of heart and soul to put into it.

it's more simple when compared to p5 at first glance, but simple doesn't mean less. which is why more people experiencing it will be nice to see

[bagofspoons]

POST SESSION 1 DLDND CHARACTER THOUGHTS

holy SHIT y’all the hiatus is over w a long ass session to start us off. i passed out so hard post session but now. i have things to say abt peoples characters and im going to say them. plus an added pronoun check for my own memory. this is a long post so ill pop it all under da cut. tldr at the end 2

IZZY | ALASTRELLE (they/he)

i LIKE THEM. i like them. i was very eyes emoji at their intro and im rly excited to see a druid. i have a feelin that theres a lot more 2 alastrelle than meets the eye but im not rly sure what. we got an insight check that he seems to know more than hes letting on... but like. idk. i have a feelin that theyre more like... they know stuff but not in a malicious way? mayb im bein 2 optimistic and alastrelle is just waiting 2 absolutely decimate every1. they DID heal ma’el tho so like... i think they do not want this. they seem kind. i want 2 know more.

CADILLAC | R-D 2.04 (pronouns unknown - seems to vary)

everybody is so mean 2 me image. r-d is rly. look. i love them but i also hate them. he’s so fuckin funny but also.... gestures broadly at the last hour of the session. she seems 2 b tha only character built 4 outright combat. at least from what weve seen. it seems like a lot of the others went 4 classes that cld offer support (from my limited knowledge of the classes themselves plus dnd) whereas cadillac built (literally) a beast. she seems really cool and had some rly amazing moments first session. designated antagonist im super interested to see how every1 is going 2 interact w the person who drew 1st blood!! also tha character we got the most backstory 4 session 1. kinda dont blame it for the murders but. i dont want any pcs to die T_T

NOX | DOCTOR (PALL’OR) REMAEDI (he/him, okay with they)

HE’S COOL... the outfit is very wizardly but we know hes a cleric. am i right when i look at the ref art and see that hes purple. he is purple. he also shotgunned an unmentioned vial (WHY DID NO 1 ASK ABOUT THAT AUAUEUEGEUGH) and the rice and meat. chuggin ig. seems like... cautious? mayb suspicious but remarkably chill. well. i say chill. again. gestures at the last hour or so of the session. LUV the weapon design. would luv 2 see it do some more damage (see “r-d is built for combat” above. terrifyink). i want 2 know more abt his eyepatch and stitches and general deal. do we think hes an unethical doctor guys. would he kill u for like. fun.

CERIN | EIWN (she/her)

pretty lady. fllushed emoji. i love her design a lot its rly cool. i assumed she was druid bc of it but idk if pep would have allowed class double ups? plus cerin is bein v secretive... possibly monk? eye dee kay im rly just guessin at this point. shes so funny 2 the bit w the shelter being her height and alastrelle tryin 2 fix it secretly was great. i dont have much 2 say abt her yet but i think she will turn out to b EXTREMELY interesting. i kno 4 a fact cerin will say smth and then the dash will explode w how much we love eiwn.

RIVER | MA’EL(VAR) (he/him)

IS HE NORMAL??? squints. i dunno... intro was. suspicious. i did like him tryin 2 explain stuff to r-d that was kinda funny. he seems to b like... relatively level headed? i struggled to get a read on his personality except like... suspicious of others but wants 2 cooperate. clearly doesnt want 2 b here el oh el. HE DID ALMOST DIE 2 TIMES WITH NO IDEA WHAT WAS HAPPENING EL EM AY OH. i wonder how hes gonna react to that.

PEP | MIYM (she/her, okay with they)

MIYM MY FUCKIN BELOVED. kenku AND a bard? plus card themed LDFKJ. alto WISHES he could. the resume made me laugh sm and she generally just seems so nice... i like that she’s immediately forming more positive relationships w tha others... probably intentional on pep’s part as a filler character for the pair offs. i was wondering why they were getting such an outright dmpc and was wondering if she was gonna get killed early... i was real newvous. its cool tho. i like her a lot. very glad miym explained the whole premise 2. thank u from da audience i was a little like WHAT THE HELL. but in a good way

TL;DR - I LIKE THEM ALL. i think theres a LOT of things we havent touched (obvs. it was 1 session) but a lot of seeds and references to things wer made i think. also it looks like we got a lot of elves lol. im generally just rly excited 2 see them play again and having consensual and established pvp will make things VERY interesting. i wonder what the symbols on the like... bracelets/necklaces are 4. and what happens when someone dies.... do they both go to zero/make death saves? i guess we will see....

[m1ckeyb3rry]

TODO THROWING HIMSELF AT Y/N LMAOOO im crying the idolization is so funny

Ok the little friendship with todo thing is funny and cute in a this-is-kinda-weird way LMAOO I’ve never seen a work that incorporates Todo as a friend of y/n this is very entertaining to read LOL

Gojo singing Taylor swift is so real LMAOOO

Ok time skip because I got lost in reading LOL but “you’re a freak” “you’re a girl” BRO??? That’s so Naoya you captured him so well but also I CANT it’s almost TOO naoya but y/n todo unlikely friendship????

Ok got to shibuya and WOW wasn’t prepared to cry!! You’d think that after reading the manga like twice and seeing everything that’s happened you’d be desensitized to the angst in jjk but NOPE!! This just brings me back to when I first read through the shibuya arc oh god Im gonna need some goofy soccer boys after this….also you know its bad when i read Kurusu as Karasu LMAOO

Ok but NOOOOOO TULLIA???? Crying fr but also seeing all the complexities and hardships y/n has to go through….all the drama and complications with the clan heads and higher ups and seeing her own decisions >>>> y/n giving up fighting makes me feel slightly conflicted ngl but that’s the nature of jjk (haha! Ha…) either way beautifully written I spent like the entirety of the day reading all this

By the photo album was the last straw HEBFLISHSS now I remember why I dropped jjk im not built for pure angst like this (also I have no idea what’s happening in the manga rn but that’s besides the point)

Ok THANK GOD Y/N IS NOT DEAD just finished and WOW that was a ride “cool story bro” indeed…ok but in all seriousness seriously beautifully crafted and so well developed I loved how each facet of y/n’s background as also touched on and delved into during the progression of the story…..I’m never getting over Gojo’s death though this just transported me back to jjk era and made me so emotional (in a good way) LMAO thank you for your service once again o7 I can guarantee you Yuta nation was well fed with this series!!

-Karasu anon

NDDJDHSHS TODO + Y/N HAVE THE BEST FRIENDSHIP i also really haven’t seen many stories where todo is friends w the mc especially not in a serious way — either he’s there as comedic relief or the mc hates him!! and while he’s def comedic relief in pi he and y/n also clearly respect one another and they have some serious moments hehe i love them sm

gojo the swiftie 😫 i do not think that man would have an eclectic music taste truly it’s whatever is on the radio for him 😭

the y/n and naoya beef is insane but i hate him so it only makes sense my girl does too!! plus she loves maki and considering what naoya has done to maki it would make zero for sense for them to get along even slightly

POMEGRANATE INK SHIBUYA CHAPTER MY BELOVED it’s like one thing after another w that chapter truly one of the most insane things i’ve written…i really liked the way it turned out though!! at least to me it fit the vibe of jjk and shibuya well without copying/stealing anyone’s storylines outright

the photo album feels like an end credits scene to me if that makes sense?? like it would play at the end of the movie/final episode of the show and it would make you cry HAHAHA it made me so emotional writing it like they’re really come so far from their first year 🥹😭💔

HEHEHE had to hit ‘em w a spin move 😈 i had so much fun making y/n as a character and expanding on her and the pomegranate ink version of jjk…she’s not complex in the sense that she’s a pretty normal person but there was a lot of thought put into her and with how long the story ended up being there was a lot of time to really get to know her and everything abt her!! she struggles a lot but in the end she somehow makes it through and even though it’s not a perfect victory because so many are dead…SHE made it which in the beginning of the series didn’t even seem likely

THANK YOU SOOO MUCH I’M SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT!! hehehe best friend’s brother (otoya’s version) should be out soon so you’ll have something silly w that

[celestie0]

Hello!! I hope you are doing well💋💋

I want to tell you, how much I love kickoff series. I started reading it the day I got results of the failed exam. This exam means to me everything, it was my second attempt to university, and I failed it again.

Your work helps me to get through the rough time, because right now I think about what will happen to my glorious king Gojo in kickoff, and not about how much I am stupid and that I should be ashamed by myself.

Thank you for stopping me crying because of the exam, and making me crying because of the kickoff.

I hope I didn’t make any mistakes, english is not my mother language, so I am sorry for some errors.

I really love you and appreciate your hard work. Thank you, really thank you🥹🥹🥹

HIII tysm i’m doing well!!

oh honey i am so sorry to hear that about your exam 😭 ik it’s really hard to not feel shame or anger towards yourself but i think it’s good to be gentle w yourself n there will be happier times for the future :”) sometimes our setbacks lead us towards blessings!! keep your chin high bb you’ve got this <33

i’m so happy to hear kickoff was able to help you in your rough time you’re going through rn

Thank you for stopping me crying because of the exam, and making me crying because of kickoff.

ofc my dear omg im ngl this made me giggle a little bit but like WITH LOVE LOL 💕💕 you get to choose the angst you shed tears over!! heck yea!!!

your english is wonderful bb and i love you too <33 honestly to know my works are helping you through something difficult makes my heart swell sm bc i know when i was in highschool n college n was struggling at times i would always turn to my favorite comfort stories to feel better, sometimes those were fanfictions, and so to know i’m helping you out in a similar way means a lot to me n im really glad :””) sending you all the love n support n positive energy!!

[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 ♡

[rrxnjun]

i'm happy to hear that u found ways to enjoy writing more!! it's definitely important to figure out how to enjoy creating even more so i'm glad u were able to do that!🥳🥳💕 and well i have tried to write stories (?) before however i'm awful at it and i also just didn't enjoy writing as much as reading i guess, but tbh i even struggle with writing essays and such for school so writing is definitely not my strongest point sadly 🥲🥲

i'm glad everything turned out well at the end, congrats on passing!!!!🥳🥳🥳 i hope u will enjoy ur next semester as well!!!💕💕 GERMAN IS JUST TOO HARD ISTG like i would be so happy if my german knowledge was at an A2 level🥲🥲i've had a similar experience with english like u did!! so i thought i would try and watch things in german as well but not even that helped with getting better at it🥲 i will definitely make sure to flex with my little language knowledge and say that i'm multilingual!!!🤣 although i'm still somewhat hoping that one day i will actually be able to talk in german and not just tell a white lie about it🥲🫡🤣 (liebestraum anon💕)

thank you!!! 🥰 im really grateful because it also makes my writing process quicker AHAHA i think i found more efficient ways 💕 awh its ok tho! i get that u wont put energy towards something you dont enjoy,, reading is a hobby for some and writing is a hobby to others!! i am good at essays i think,, but i have a problem with fitting into the word count. i always write too much and then i have to delete like half the stuff i had 😭😭 (well, if its not philosophy. i fucking hated writing my essay for philosophy)

thank you!!! i hope i dont have too much work to do ahaha but im actually looking forward to school lmao i sound like such a nerd. how long do u have to take german for?? 😭 i remember it being my biggest horror in hs. I TRIED IT WITH GERMAN TOO i actually downloaded an ebook in german and tried to learn a little that way,,, i had to google a lot of words but it was quite enjoyable tbh, i think i learned a lil too but then i got busy w uni and didnt finish reading it. lets hope our german gets better in the future fr i think its such a pretty language too😔

[doriana-gray-games]

Collection of asks !

Hi! Don't want to clog up your dashboards so I am answering some asks that have piled up while I was a bit absent <3

(Game update status: both going good and bad. Stuck on this one scene, but I am starting to see the end in the tunnel lol. Have been trying a new approach where I don't edit while writing :0 it's hard but does increase productivity! I just hope the quality isn't too bad after it lol. You can tell me once the update is out haha!)

Bahaha Love that! W deserves all the love <3

😏😏😏 Watson likes all of Sherlock, tho I'm sure they are partial to some... parts hehe

But the reaction is not new!! Tho I know a lot of people miss it (there's a few easily missed things tbh haha, maybe not optimal, but I find it fun to hide little things). There's one reaction with small waist too !

lolol I see it. I have a scene in my notes where MC basically has to teach H to sit on (and touch) grass...

@jumpyhamster Maybe? Not sure yet, sorry!

Ah--was it so obvious i'm not english haha! Yeah, I might as well tell you all too (despite my best efforts of internet anonymity, I talk too much on discord lol) I am Swedish. So if I make some weird English mistake or miss some quintessential British thing the MC or NPCs would know plz let me know! <3

Aww I think I know who this is!!! 💛💛💛 hearts right back!!!!

@4332 <3<3<3 I'm so glad you liked it!! (I don't recommend it to 12 years old tho! might be too adult for that haha)

<3 <3 <3

I am for sandwich solidarity in all forms haha! XD

Hopefully MC will be able to get them a not-chewed on sandwich soon <3

It seems I can't paste more images sorry-- One similar question I got was what the elegant body type looks like:

Currently the body types won't assume a lot much more than the word and possibly synonyms to the word. That's because it's so subjective. So--if I were to make further content about it I probably will have to ask further questions about that setting <3 I do think it would be fun and interesting to do!

Elegant, is again, what you want it to mean. But generally I've heard it to mean semi-long limbs with "ideal" like proportions. And in mass perhaps somewhere between tall-athletic and lean. I personally think of grace kelly I think

Love this game and the new details you added <3 this is definitely a spoilery question but man, i gotta ask... what happened in Lestrade's life that to made him so... unhappy? Careless with his own wellbeing? :(

<3

A previous answer I have given: "Just a spiral of things. Life turning the wrong way, things looking bad on the horizon, failing to take care of themselves so they have poor chances of climbing out or realising they even can." In addition to this. This had not started when MC and L first met. And there was a catalyst event, that set it off, and in a way MC is involved in this.

💖💝💕💯💐

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

you deserve to go to jail for making me choose between two cute love interests... that aside, your game has helped me a lot while struggling with mental health problems. which sounds a little silly but genuinely it warms my heart when i don't feel well. so thank you for creating something so wonderful. + i know most asks here are RO-related but im also very excited to see how the story goes!

Gosh Anon, you gave me a heart-attack with those first few words haha-- but to the rest, thank you so much <3<3<3 That's very sweet. I'm really glad and honoured to help in anyway I can. There's a lot of plot coming anon! Don't you worry! :D

harrypotternerd934 asked:

I need to say that I'm absolutely amoured by your story. I really enjoy playing as Sherlock and I think you did a really great job at capturing the vibe of the setting.

Much love and further luck with your story 🤗

@harrypotternerd934 <3

Aww, thank you so much! <3<3<3

approxtwelveangrybees asked:

I need you to know that I had so much fun with the Victorian gazing in the first two chapters

@approxtwelveangrybees <3<3<3

Congratulations on the anniversary <3 the update was so good.. all the little reworked scenes... the love kernels... But wait, will there actually be a love triangle route!!!!?

Yeees <3 Lot's of them <3

phaedraismyusername asked:

My favourite line of the update - just a top tier IQ drop right there 😍 lol

The whole thing was so good! An absolute joy to read as always ❤️❤️❤️

@phaedraismyusername <3<3<3 You're a joy!!! <3<3<3 (I love how people are discovering the thigh line haha)

and to "The trio Lestrade/hungry tumblr anon" Thank you for your story <3

[lunaastoir]

Hi! I really enjoy your writing so is it alright if i request xiao, diluc, childe with an idol s/o where one of their old stalkers come back or they just recently had a stalker in general but with how busy they were since they’re an idol they don’t even notice? And something bad happens (i cant think of anything</3) Thank you very much !!

hi anon!! a million apologies since this is so late but i hope you like the fic <3

there also aren’t any explicit details for anything bad happening - i briefly touched on subjects that you may not have control over, i hope that’s ok! 

warning (?): struggled a bit on this prompt so i apologize in advance if this isn’t my best work LMAOO

gn! reader

tw: hints of assault, slight angst, very light abuse if you squint

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

xiao

now xiao is a very observant man but he's also extremely busy keeping liyue safe

he makes it a point to always come to your shows even if you don't actively see him bc he cares a lot abt you and he enjoys listening to your music ‼️

it's normal for him to sometimes get lost between his own world of demonslaying and the world he shares w you

so one night, he's hanging on the rafters of a house with the perfect view of your singing

everything goes smoothly, he sets his spear down while lightly swaying his head to the music

the concert ends and fans disperse after you say your farewells

a night like this is rare since for once, xiao can walk home w you back to the inn sweet boy really cleared out his schedule for you huh

you're unsurprised when you see him materialize next to you, opting to flash him a smile and a hello

his cheeks are lightly flushed as he crosses his arms before talking quietly about how well you did

he relishes in the wide smile you give him as a result of his praise and he lets the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly

the quiet bustle of the harbor seemed to slow down as the night grew longer

since this was a fairly large concert, you had boxes among boxes of equipment so xiao decided to make your life easier by quickly flying them to their appropriate locations

when he got back however, he was surprised to see you talking animatedly with someone

he didn't think anything was wrong until he saw the person trap you between the stage and words filtered into his ears

your back was painfully pressed against the stage wall as you defiantly met their gaze. after xiao had left, they had immediately come over to you: first introducing themselves as a fan and making amiable conversation, before divulging in personal details of your life that made your skin crawl. you weren’t helpless, you always had your weapon on hand regardless of whether you were performing or not. the way they pushed you against the wall however, made it near impossible to summon your sword should you need it. 

they leered down at you while balancing an arm against the wall next to your head. you had dealt with things like this before so you weren’t overly worried; you could defend yourself. you almost felt pity for the person in front of you as they asked for your number with a sadistic grin, disgusting words tumbling off of their lips. however, that was before you felt their cold fingers idly make their way to your stomach and you felt your breath hitch. oh no

the telltale sound of whooshing alerted you of xiao’s presence, and the press of the tip of his spear against their jugular brought you relief. 

“back away” he tightly growled while his golden eyes narrowed into slits. they stared at him in shock before holding their hands up and moving to step a foot away from you. 

“farther” he motioned with his spear before stepping in front of you as you attempted to collect yourself. 

“ok ok, i’m far away can you put your spear down now?” 

“no.” 

you mentally cursed as you watched the two of them glare at each other. this was supposed to be a carefree night but this unfortunate twist made the air thick with tension. you could feel the anger radiate off of xiao in waves and in an effort to deescalate the situation, you spoke. 

“i’m glad to meet such an...avid fan but i’m sorry the two of us must get going now” you hastily said before attempting to grab xiao’s hand and walk off past them. 

the next words had you halt your steps as they divulged their secret. 

words painted in careless arrogance with hints of violet overconfidence flew out of the person’s mouth - “judging from the weeks i’ve been following you, it didn’t seem like you had a boyfriend”

at the mere mention of prolonged stalking, xiao immediately lunged to pull you behind him. god, he didn’t kill mortals but he swore if he plunged his spear into this human being right here, no one would even blink twice considering how low of a person they were. 

“if i ever see you near them again, i will not hesitate to kill you. i won’t blink twice, i already have blood on my hands.” he ground out.

at the threat, the person grudgingly turned their back to you before leaving the two of you alone in the quiet harbor. 

you carefully reached a hand out to touch your boyfriend’s shoulder, but stopped after you saw the expression on his face. the mix of rage, sadness, and anguish imprinted his features as you watched his chest rapidly rise and fall - a result of his emotional battle. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t notice them before. i should’ve been paying more attention to you” he whispered before silently striding away from your grasp 

you knew that no matter how many reassurances you gave him about how, “it’s not your fault xiao, i didn’t notice them either” he would still blame himself. 

he was supposed to protect you right? so why couldn’t he sense the danger beforehand? what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there?

it’s still a learning process for him to realize that things happen, and he inevitably couldn’t be there to save you from everything. he needs time to understand and adjust. you’re willing to wait, patiently helping him through it. why? because love is worth it. 

god im sorry this ended up kinda sad whoops

diluc 

i swear everytime i say i’m a childe simp diluc kinda wrecks me

ahem anyways onto the hc!

he’s kinda never around but similar to xiao he will overwork himself to clear out an hour or two just to watch your concerts 

he’ll always stand off to the side too so if you tilt your head while you’re singing you can spy his red hair 

you always flash him the sweetest smile and this man blushes like CRAZY before quickly lifting his hand up to give you a thumbs up 

everyone watching the both of you like 😍😦

people think it’s the cutest thing i swear like c’mon the elusive “bachelor of mondstadt” being seen in public supporting you??? wow pls can we share him

he walks with you back to the winery, the entire time linking his hands with yours while gushing about your performance 

1939248/10 it’s literally the sweetest thing 

the next day however, adelinde brings you a pink letter addressed to you 

he doesn’t pry because it’s addressed to you and it’s your business but as the letters start coming by everyday, he starts to grow curious 

one day he straight up just asks you about it

“hey, you know those pink letters you keep getting? who are they from?”

you laugh slightly at his bashfulness and respond with a “just some overexcited fan” and he smiles before kissing your forehead 

he loves that people are noticing your talent 

loves it! until you get stalked by the same person who wrote you those letters while you were shopping!

diluc knows something’s wrong when you rush into angel’s share panicked after not returning his usual smile. 

“darling? are you ok?” he asks worriedly before quickly setting down the glass he was cleaning to move towards you. 

the widening of your eyes as you looked behind you at the sounds of someone else entering was all he needed to swiftly step in front of you, blocking their gaze of your face. 

the slightly panicked look in your eyes before you hurriedly whispered, “they’re following me” made diluc glance at them subtly out of the corner of his eye. he watched as they walked over to find a seat next to the bar, seemingly ready to order a drink. he quietly asked if you would like to sit in the room reserved for the employees, away from their prying eyes. your hasty nod was all the confirmation he needed for him to let you access the door behind him. 

the night went by fairly smoothly with kaeya’s usual teasing and venti’s usual begging for alcohol. diluc’s eyes narrowed however, when the person seemed to ask him questions regarding you. things like, “i heard you’re dating y/n... they’re amazing, how long have you been together?” and “do they live with you at dawn winery?” diluc answered these questions as short as he could, trying to convey with his body language that he truly did not want to talk to them. 

everything was going well until he made the mistake of leaving the bar unattended. he had briefly forgotten about your residence in the room behind him as his mind immediately gravitated to breaking up a brawl. when he returned, the half drunk glass of liquor combined with the person’s absence from their seat, caused sparks of worry to light up inside his chest. 

turning to the door, he knocked once. 

“is everything alright in there love?”

the sounds of things rustling about and the occasional muffled voice had him opening the door quickly. he saw you with your arm being held tightly in their grasp, your mouth muffled with their hand, while you strained against them by pulling at your arm. 

diluc immediately made his way over to you, quickly pulling your arm away before letting you enter into his embrace. 

“get out.” the venomous words clawed their way out of his throat as he looked at them with eyes that screamed hatred. his blood was boiling as his mind replayed the scene; your scared expression and their greedy eyes. 

diluc didn’t need to repeat himself twice as they ran out, trying not to trip over crates of wine. he made a mental note to find out who they were in order to make sure they never came near you ever again. 

he quickly looked down at your form, relaxing slightly at the sight of your tentative smile. “my knight in shining armor” you joked before softly nuzzling your head into his shoulder. the anger had yet to dissipate from his veins, and although he knew you were still shaken up, he was sure you would be fine. 

a pink letter placed on the table next to you caught his eye, and he made sure to quickly pocket it as he led you out, gently jesting with you about the “unnecessary amount of wine barrels in here, diluc this is a safety hazard!” 

he would deal with this person later. 

childe

ayo AYO ITS THE TOY SALESMAN

ok tbh he’s very rarely around so he unfortunately cannot make it to all of your shows 

dw tho, he will try his hardest to be there for the ones he’s in town for bc what is he if not your number one hype king??? 

ok kinda creepy! alert 

he’s tasked two of his subordinates to keep watch over you whenever he’s out of the harbor

it’s not anything creepy,,, he just gets extremely worried abt you and wants to make sure you’re safe 

sO when he gets a ransom note??? he’s understandably confused but also very much freaked out 

bc did they not know who he was??? the fact that they thought they could get away with holding you captive was quite honestly kind of funny to him 

very stressed and angry tho - hides it behind a facade of smiles but he’s raging 

takes him only a few hours to track you down bc he had everyone and i mean EVERYONE looking for you 

the note crunched in his hand as the harbinger made his way towards windrise. his pace was erratic, long legs rushing towards the small cave his agents had found. they were bordering the perimeter of the enclosure, careful to not alert you or your captor of their presence. childe’s subordinate head had calmly stated that childe need not come out to rescue you, the situation was under control and they could do it for him. however, childe’s sharp gaze along with his sickly sweet words of “thanks but no. i’m coming out to see this sorry asshole for myself” had the agent backing away apologizing. he wanted to see the look on this person’s face before he shoved their sorry ass into the abyss himself. 

as he reached the opening of the cave, he glanced over his shoulder at his head agent; a silent warning to keep the area sealed. his blue eyes glinted with a thirst for blood before making his way into the cave, sealing off the exit with his body. 

“well well, playing games with the love of my life are we?” 

his teasing words reached your ears as your eyes immediately found the face of your boyfriend. you weren’t horribly scared, just a little shaken up and sore from the bindings on your wrists. relief coursed through your body at the sight of him. you needn’t put in your plan of getting out of these bindings to fight your captor yourself anymore. 

childe’s eyes quickly scanned over your frame, making sure you weren’t hurt. at the state of you completely unharmed, the harbinger let his heart calm down slightly. you were completely ok. 

“wait a little longer, love? i promise this will be over soon”

the wink he sent you had you lightly rolling your eyes at his antics before he directed his attention back to your kidnapper. if your captor wasn’t scared before, they were certainly shaking in their boots now at the sight of childe’s twin hydro blades rotating playfully in his hands. 

“listen, all i want is the money-”

“and all i want is your head” 

your boyfriend smiled after cutting them off. the severity of the situation truly seemed to sink in at that moment before pleas of mercy fell from your captor’s lips, desperate to escape the bloodthirsty gaze of the harbinger. childe’s eyes flickered over to yours where you sat there, with your head ferociously shaking. a silent “no.” he sighed before swiftly bringing his arm up to hit your captor on the head, effectively knocking them out cold. 

his hands worked at the ropes holding you and he gingerly rubbed at your bruised wrists. you silently thanked the archons he could never say no to you. archons forbid what would've happened if you hadn’t said anything. while you were explaining what happened, the young man quickly scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the cave. 

you playfully hit his shoulder while muttering “drama queen” but you stopped when you saw his face morph into an expression of seriousness. you had informed him on the situation about your captor revealing themselves to be a recent stalker of yours, completely oblivious to the look of frustration on his face as he freed you from your bondages. 

“i was scared you know.” he quietly divulged. “i knew that it wasn’t anything extremely serious but i... i was still scared”

you swore as you looked at him in that moment, he had turned ten again. the youth of his face betraying his vulnerability. 

you quietly hummed before tangling your fingers in his hair. “i hope you know it wasn’t your fault. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not even the two fatui agents who you sent to stalk me while you were away.”

he quietly laughed at that before mentally filing away a reminder for a lecture to those two agents in the near future. 

“i’m just glad you’re safe. i know you can save yourself but i’ll always be here. i still wish you would let me take care of your asshole kidnapper myself though.” he pouted jokingly. 

“i’m sure the millelith will lock them up for a long time.” you laughed sweetly. 

his usual smile reappeared at your antics. maybe he didn’t get to beat your captor up and do...much worse. however at the end of the day, your smile was still intact regardless of what happened. that’s all he wanted. 

[silversatoru]

Dabi + drugging please

join the dark content mini event!!!

i combined this w someone else’s request of dabi + noncon bc they go together really well <333

dabi + drugging + noncon

tw: nsfw 18+, dark content, drugging, noncon/dubcon, absolute scumbag dabi, impact play, spitting, and im gonna say it again: very heavy noncon warning here!!!!

wc: 1.2k

dabi’s favorite pastime is hanging out in dingy bars and keeping a watchful eye on absolute train-wrecks like you. messy little things who drink a little too much a little too often all in the name of “stress-relief”. none of you are ever cognizant enough to notice the tabs he drops into your drinks while he swoons you with a deep voice and half-lidded eyes. and it worked on you too, your hand scooping up your drink so you could take another lengthy sip — if only you knew what was about to hit you. 

when your senses came flooding back to you, you were in a dirty looking apartment, your eyes hazy and unable to focus properly. your entire body ached, each of your limbs feeling as if they weighed several tons as you struggled and failed to move them. weren’t you just at the bar? with that dark haired boy? the one with the pretty blue eyes and weird scars? where were you? 

your breath hitched in your throat when a figure appeared in front you, familiar shaggy hair and icy eyes looking down at you with unsettling intention. a dull pounding echoed through the back of your head, and no matter how hard you tried to move any part of your body, it was as if you were frozen — trapped in a horrible nightmare and plagued with sleep paralysis. 

“hey sweetheart, glad to see you’re finally awake. i was getting a little impatient”

his voice sounded like it was echoing from hundreds of miles away, as if your head was submerged in a tank of water and he was calling to you from the outside. you could barely even make sense of his words, your head spinning in circles when you finally processed what he said and realized just how much trouble you were in right now. you could feel the cool air on every inch of your skin, and you suddenly became aware of the fact that not a single article of clothing was left on your body. 

your eyes must have widened in shock and realization, because a low chuckle rumbled from his chest in response. 

“don’t look so shocked, doll; you were practically begging for me to bring you back here tonight”

you were what? sure you had a few drinks and maybe participated in some tipsy flirting, but you certainty didn’t ask to be here — especially not like this. but it’s not like you could fight back, your body was utterly useless right now — so the best you could do was utter a helpless “n- no”. 

“no? if that word held any significance to me we wouldn’t be here right now”

his words made the blood in your veins turn to ice, chilling you to your core and causing a few hot tears to well up in your eyes. and then your fear spiked an all time high when the scarred man straddled over you and you felt something brush against your abdomen. even in your doped-up state you had enough sense to know what it was, your stomach twisting into an assortment of knots. 

“just keep quiet, okay? don’t wanna have to pump anymore shit into you, it’s a lot of work. so just let me enjoy this, yeah?”

even though you expected it, nothing could have prepared you for the painful stretch of his cock forcing its way inside of you. his head rolled back in immediate pleasure while your body instinctively twitched in pain and emitted several pathetic whimpers. after all, this wasn’t for you, it was for him — and he couldn’t care less about making sure you were ready.

it was pitiful, the way you laid on your back with your eyes rolling around in your skull while he picked up a brutal pace right from the start. and he knew he told you to be quiet, but your feeble moans and choked-out whimpers were too damn pretty for him to get angry with you. it almost made it sound like you were enjoying it — twisted bitch.

between the drugs and the rush of endorphins from his cock railing into your hips, you were on another fucking planet — tongue lolling out of your mouth and slow strings of drool dripping down onto his bed.

a harsh hand came down on your face, just barely bringing you back for a fraction of a second.

“close your mouth, whore, you’re making a fuckin’ mess”

you didn’t have the mind to understand his command right now, your head lazily rolling to the other side with your tongue still dangling out. dabi seemed to realize that his scolding had very little effect on you, mumbling a quiet “dumb fuckin’ bitch” and carrying on.

your instinctual whimpers and the dull noise of dabi’s balls slapping your ass with each thrust were the only sounds in the shabby apartment — along with the occasional insult being spewed from his mouth.

you cunt was sopping now, coating itself in a gooey lubricant to accommodate for dabi’s lengthy member abusing your walls. and god does it feel good when you flinch, when your caverns clench around his cock and threaten to milk him for everything he has. he knows it’s not intentional, he knows you don’t have half the brain to tease him like that on purpose right now, but he still delivers a firm slap to your thigh or a wad of saliva to your chest each time you do it. you’re too out of your mind to notice though, resembling a sex toy more than a human at this point.

he uses you for everything that you’re worth, abusing you like you were nothing but a warm sleeve for his cock to fuck — and honestly that’s all he saw you as. when he finally reached his peak and your walls convulsed around him again it sent him diving into a heavy orgasm. thick white semen dousing your insides and getting smeared against your cervix as he fucked you through it.

by the time he pulled out your swollen cunt was leaking with globs of white, dabi cursing about how much of a fucking mess you were making for him to clean up.

and then he got you dressed — failing to even be considerate enough to clean you up first — and dumped you back at the bar he found you at. at least he was considerate enough to do that! he could have left your sorry ass in the alley behind his apartments! at least here there was a slight chance your shitty friends would find you here and take you home.

and then he went back home and slept on the couch — cause he was way too lazy to clean off his bed right now. plus he needed to get some serious rest so he could do this all again tomorrow.

[quietmyfearswith]

sparse sleep ; syverson x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —1,972 words

summary — in which syverson has trouble sleeping.

warnings —swear words, fluff?? mentions ptsd and war things, angst?? insomia, implied smut, sleeping (literal sleeping) with strangers (thats dangerous please dont do that)

pairing — syverson x fem!reader

a/n — dont mind me, im just trying to get out of my fanfic writing rut so i would really appreciate some feedback and asks/messages are open! if you follow me, please state your age/age range in your bio. i will block you if you follow me and don’t have your age/age range in your bio!!!

tagging —​ @la-cey @melancholyy-hill @pedropcl @beck07990 @doozywoozy

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” Sy apologized as he accidentally spilled his drink on a woman who was sitting by the bar; his eyes lifted from the stain his drink made on her velvet dress to her eyes. Wow she looks beautiful, he thought as his mouth hung agape and he struggled to formulate words. “It’s alright,” She reassured him and chuckled at his panic, “I trust it was just an accident?”

It took him a few seconds before foolishly nodding his head, “It was, I’m sorry,” He pointed to the gathering crowd behind him that were rushing to get out to the balcony, “I was being pushed around by all these people.” It was a mere ten minutes before the new year approached them.

“Ah, well I don’t know about them but I’m not too keen on the fireworks,” She stated as she paid her bill. This lured Sy in as he hasn’t met a lot of people who disliked fireworks like he did, “You don’t like fireworks too? How come?”

She shook her head as she stood up from the chair, “Well just one of the reasons is that it bothers a lot of dogs.”

“My dog hates the fireworks too!” He said, too excited and he had to clear his throat as he began to walk along with her, “‘Tis the reason why I chose a hotel room with soundproof walls, or so they say.” Waiting for the elevator, she cooed at the mention of his furry companion; she was too excited that she couldn't help herself from asking, “Do you mind if I see your dog? Only if it’s alright, of course.”

The elevator let out a soft chime, Sy gestured for her to step in first and she did, “Sure!” He entered his own floor number and smirked smugly at her, “You sure this isn’t some devious plan of yours to lure me in and seduce me?”

She could feel her heart beat increase as she shook her head and slapped a hand to his pec, “No! Excuse you I just happen to love dogs so much, okay?” The former captain could feel the nervousness start to sink in as the elevator didn’t play out instrumental music; shifting his weight between his feet, he took a good look at her face as she was looking on her phone with a slight frown.

“What got you pouting over there like a heartbroken child?”

His Texan accent was thick when he said that sentence that it had her laughing softly as she chucked her phone into the back pocket of her denim jeans, “Where’s that accent from?”

“Texas; you from there?” She shook her head as she told him where she was originally from. The soft elevator chime informed them they were on the Captain’s floor. Taking charge, Sy exited first and his one hand pressed against the elevator doors, giving Y/N enough time to step out of the cold box. “Are all Texans a gentleman like you? Or is it just you?”

A deep chuckle erupted from his chest as he reached for his hotel key card in his back pocket once they were in front of his hotel room door, “Some are as dastardly as they come, while some clean up their act only to impress the ones they’re courting.”

As he opened the door, he gestured for her to enter first and she did with a smile; upon closing the door behind him, they both could hear Aika’s excited  barks coming from the bathroom. “You might want to sit first on the bed, I’m gonna get her out.”

“Taking me to bed already? Naughty Texan you are,” Her flirty remark had the both of them laughing, but she happily skipped and sat on the bed as she patiently waited for the dog.

“And this is Aika,” Sy announced as the German Shepherd patiently and in a disciplined manner walked beside him; it was impressive to Y/N how the cute pooch was, despite her excitement — which was visible with her wagging her tail vigorously — she was still staying beside him before being given permission to approach her.

“You can go ahead and pet her,” Sy nodded as he sat on the floor beside Aika. With that signal, she knelt down and proceeded to scratch the space between her ears as she greeted, “Hi Aika, how are you?”

Sy looked with adoration as the girl giggled out loud when her face was being smothered and licked by Aika’s tongue, “Alright easy now, girl,” He tried pushing Aika to him; but to no avail the female dog seemed to have preferred his new found friend more as she plopped herself onto her lap and nuzzled to her.

“It seems like she might have chosen over you,” She observed as she stroked her fur with a smile; “I can’t blame her for doing so; I would have chosen you too, you know?”

His remark had her eyes widening and shock and she could feel the heat rushing up to her cheeks, “I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry you on my lap, Sy.” It was the first time he heard say her name and he felt this tremble inside him — due to all his years in the military, he mistook the feeling for something of fear while he was out in the battlefield — but really it was just butterflies floating around in his stomach.

“Well doesn’t have to be sitting on your lap, you could sit on mine you know?” He threw in a wink to mask his nervousness. Biting her lip, she gently jostled Aika off her lap and moved to sit beside him, until the outside of both their thighs were grazing against each other, “Let’s start off like this first and see where we go from here, yeah?”

“I’m fine with that,” He grinned at her, he checked on his wrist watch and noticed how they were a minute away from welcoming the new year, “Last sixty seconds of this year and it’s giving me a gift as a way to end and start the new year’s.”

Loving the sound of that, she took a bold move to sit on his lap, he tilted his head up to look at her as she was caressing his bearded cheek, “How ‘bout we welcome the new year with a kiss then?”

Instead of verbally responding, he took charge and slanted his lips with hers; pleased with what he did both her hands ran across the short trims of his hair while his large, warm hands circled around her waist.

The loud countdown by the people counting down the last ten seconds could be heard, but both of them could only focus on the feel and taste of each other. As their lips danced together, they both could feel the rumbling sound of the fireworks, they felt a dog snuggle in between them.

Breaking away from the kiss they both turned their attention to the sweet furball; Sy cooed at her while he was rubbing her head lovingly, “It’s okay, girl. We’re here, we won’t let the fireworks harm you okay?”

It was abordable to see how snuggly the pooch was, they giggled among each other while they brushed her fur lovingly. Sy moved her body around so her back was to his chest, whereas AIka settled her head into her lap; it had only been less than a few hours before they had met each other, they both felt safe and at peace with each other.

“She’s so adorable, how long has she been with you?” She found it odd how the collar she had did not contain a name tag. “Been together for almost three years now, she’s an army dog.”

With that information, she turned to face him, “Are you a veteran?” He nodded with a tight-lipped smile. Her hands left Aika’s fur and turned fully to hug him, rubbing the wide expanse of his back, “Thank you for your service, Sy.”

Part of him found her reaction quite silly, but at the same time no one has expressed such sincere gratitude to him and the fact that it came from her warmed his heart even more. “Well I had to make the world safe for you now, don’t I, love?”

Removing his tight hug around him, she jokingly shoved his shoulders but smirked otherwise. “So what are your plans now that you and Aika,” She pet the dog once more to remind her that they were here for her, “Have retired from active duty?”

“Gonna be training newly recruited soldiers — gives great pay and benefits, so I thought why not?” She pouted and tilted her head as her fingers ran around the hair that was by the nape of his neck. “Maybe try to get some sleep for once.”

“You have trouble sleeping? Do you have nightmares?”

Sy nodded sadly as he bit his bottom lip, “Not really nightmares, moreso flashbacks of all the explosions and killings.” He took a deep breath before continuing his recount of his sleepless nights, “Part of the reason why I don’t like fireworks, really. They remind me of when I was back in Iraq.”

The feeling of the pad of her fingers felt great along his skin, prompting him to open up more and let down his walls. Disconnecting his gaze from Aika and onto her eyes allowed him to see orbs of hope and love. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sy. You’re so brave for having to get over the terrors that keep you up at night.”

“Maybe if I had someone to hold me, I wouldn’t have trouble sleeping.”

The captain was only joking, but she didn’t hesitate when offering, “Well I could hug you to sleep at night, test that strategy of yours?” He looked at her with bewilderment, “You’d sleep — not the euphemism — with a man you just met?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she pursed her lips, “I’ll take my chances with you, Sy. But I don’t think you’re the type to lure women and kill them in their sleep now, are you?”

He chuckled and pecked her lips softly, “Well damn am I glad that you’re taking your chance on this Texan captain. I can lend you some clothes so you can dress up?”

She nodded and stood up, offering her hands to him which he gratefully took as he stood up. Silently, he handed her clothes and guided her to the bathroom, allowing her to dress and freshen up first. Once she was done with her routine, she then exited the bathroom and told Sy it was now his turn to change. As the captain was changing into more comfortable clothes, Y/N had been petting Aika and humoring her.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” He smiled as he leaned against the wall as he was watching the lovely scene in front of him.

“I am, and I do hope you get to sleep well.”

There was the warm feeling in his chest and stomach again; instead of addressing it internally, he just picked Y/N up from the floor and laid them both down on the wide bed. “Show off,” She remarked as she cuddled up into him — her arms wrapping around his wide frame as her legs tangled with his.

“Happy new year, by the way,” She said after a few moments of silence after they were cuddling. Nodding to himself, Sy pressed a tender kiss on her shoulder before greeting her back, “Oh it will be, love.”

And that night did prove his theory right, that he does sleep better with someone holding him. But that wasn’t the only reason as to why he wanted to keep her in his life for a long time.

[astraldrake]

thoughts on elden ring bcs i feel like i have to put them somewhere fair warning for spoilers

- much more colorful than ds3 (low bar i know but goodness the difference is stunning when you go from one to the other) -im so glad they gave us the ability to jump. like wow i can actually go up stuff now?? im not trapped if i fall down a small ledge?? sweet. - the ambient music in caelid makes my skin crawl (complimentary) also they really nailed the vibe of it as this horrible rotting place that wants you dead. also all the giant mushrooms and stuff everywhere, love those. - speaking of, i love the lil wolf howls in the raya lucaria ambient music. (also the overall color palette and aesthetic and stuff 10/10 blue good, sparkly rocks good) - radahn's fight was fun and chaotic (once i had enough health that he wasn't 2 shotting me right as i walked in) i liked that you could just keep summoning backup throughout the fight so you had a near endless stream of cannon fodder help. - rykards fight was a pain in the ass though, idk if it was just me but i struggled to get the timing down on when and how to stun him. (also, i really expected his voice to be more,,, idk intimidating?? he just sounds like he's talking with his mouth full.) - morgott wasn't too bad (although it was also the first fight i did while having a great rune active so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) (should also note i beat him before i took down rykard) i will say i didn't expect his lore to be so sad. Like shit dude I feel bad about killing you now. - im really enjoying the wide variety of stuff i can do with incantations, i can summon lightning, throw fireballs, temporarily give myself a tail, and turn my head into a dragon's, it's great. - i have no clue what is happening like 60% of the time. i feel like i probably missed some story stuff somewhere down the line. (i spent so much time dicking around with other stuff i would not be surprised) - I kinda miss destiny's more expansive lore entries. I get that that's just not the way these games tend to operate when it comes to story, like i know they like to be vague and leave stuff up to interpretation but sometimes i want more than flavor text yknow? I want to read more about these characters and events. (and yes i know ao3 exists but diving for good fic takes time and trial and error, that and i want a more consistent understanding of canon than what assorted fic would be able to provide. ah well, when there is no canon, you make your own.)

- I wish id gotten more time to talk w/ melina before she died. the cutscene was really nice and it felt like it implied a lot but i just didn't get to hang out with her enough for it to hit as hard as i think the creators intended it to. (or maybe im just more emotionally numb in general these days idk.) - that said, i really like the conversation you can have with her if you beat the boss at the end of the shunning grounds. "however ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair... life endures. births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not?" like fuck dude!! you're right!! there is beauty in that!! ( i then proceeded not to go looking for the frenzied flame, and instead just took the item in the chest and the incantation i got off the boss and left. ) - also i did some pvp invasion stuff for varre's questline since i wanted to see if anything in or around that area would have more fun blood flame incantations. (I have found none so far but i did find mohg!! who i have not fought yet.) Given my experience with pvp being primarily overwatch and destiny ( very different genre i know, but still) i kind of expected to just get repeatedly curbstomped by tryhards, but i actually didn't have too bad a time. I even manged to kill a person (or three. look three out of five is a pretty good track record for me ok??).

anyways i think that's all i have to say about that.

[peace-for-levi]

CECE!! congrats on 300<333 i am so happy for you and wish you all this and more my dear❤️❤️❤️

could i ask for a tea and sweet treat? whatever u feel like though my love!

about me: i have brown medium length brown hair w bangs and hazel eyes ; im short and stocky ; my pronouns are she/her

im a super bubbly person! i love chatting and spending time with people ; my love languages are quality time, physical touch, and words of affirmation. i love finding new media to consume, books, shows, music, etc and then sharing my finds with people! sometimes i struggle with sharing my feelings because i dont want to be a burden but at the same time i value vulnerability.

my mbti is esfj ; my big three & venus are taurus sun, sag moon, scorpio rising, and aries venus

i prefer male relationships but i swing either way:)

ideal dates: while i like to stay in a lot of the time, whenever i find the person that i really vibe with, i want to go out 24/7 and explore. whether that’s out hiking, on a picnic, to a museum, or dancing, anything that involves finding new places is a must for me

marriage: i surprisingly like the idea of marriage (whenever im not alone and in a deep fear of intimacy)! i wanna write my own vows and everything and the receptions gonna be lit as hell. i like simplicity so deco and my dress and everything are pretty minimalistic (referring to my pinterest board LMAOO)

and for the sweet treat!

could i request a canonverse jean letter please? im thinking it’s a letter from him while he’s away on an ambassador’s trip to another country, talking about how much he misses me and the kids, reminiscing on old times (like how he used to sneak out of the scouts camps to meet me if he was close to the town; how he brought a mountain of presents back from the marley reconnaissance mission along with a promise ring, etc.) to keep him sane, just a whole lotta fluff

congrats again, cece! im so glad to be apart of your following:)

Requests for this event are CLOSED.

However, general requests for oneshots/thirsts/headcanons are OPEN.

Hi dearest!!

I’m so sorry this took so long, gah I’m terrible. Life got super messy (when is it not messy) and my writing was put on hold for ages!

Based on the information you have given me for your match-up, I personally think you’d pair very well with… Jean Kierstein!

You had me at the love languages I think? I feel like Jean could match those perfectly and be the most loving and attentive partner to you! He can be very touchy-feely (not sure about in public) and will almost always have an arm wrapped around you. If you’re walking somewhere, his thumb is stroking circles into your hand, or his arm is loosely wrapped around your waist as you crack jokes and laugh loudly. He’s also a sweetheart with words. He does make mistakes here and there - who doesn’t? - but he learns what it is you like to hear when you are feeling down, what he can do to cheer you up or if he just needs to be quiet while you vent.

DATES WITH JEAN ARE SO CUTE. SORRY, BUT I DO PICTURE YOU TWO SHARING HEADPHONES ON THE SUBWAY OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT??? This is the quality time coming in, maybe. Any moment with you is cherished, and he cherishes you. So if you’re doing something as mundane as sitting next to each other - maybe you’re reading a new book - he’s reading with you and flicking the page. GAH ADORABLE I KNOW, JEAN IS ADORABLE.

Jean understands you very well, I think he’d love to bookshop for you (risky for anybody who is in a relationship with a bookworm.) But you always read them, even if you don’t complete the book because he will be furiously mulling over the books available. He’s analysing the colour scheme of the cover (as superficial as it is), if you want the ‘official’ version, the blurb, strong female characters, the feel of the book itself.

Maybe in turn you’re always updated your shared playlist that you listen to as you cook dinner? There’s a great playlist on Spotify called ‘cooking omlettes with jean kirstein’ - some classic 80s and 90s music in there! If you’re both dancing in the kitchen together as you cook, can be be SURE he’s twirling you around and doing that thing where he spins you around and catches you. A song that comes to mind is Blue Moon by Frank Sinatra

Waking up early to go on hikes to see the sunrise??? UGH YES AND THEN HE’S BRINGS YOU FOR COFFEE AFTERWARDS. BEANIE YOURE KILLING ME HERE, I LOVE JEAN.

museum dates are SO jean. you two could spend hours there. in a similar vein, maybe you two would dig aquarium dates?? omg and wanting go get a fish after? jean says it's practice for a bigger commitment (like kids if you want them, or a dog/cat/etc) but he also kinda just loves fish. don't speak to him as he stares at the fishies - he's in his element. but that can also be said about paintings (yes, i see him as an artist/art enthusiast in a modern AU!)

gah now i want a jean to myself

Below you’ll find your moodboard!

and now, your letter!

(seems like your letter implied civilian!SO but i couldn’t tell so I left it open. i have a handwritten font in pictures and there is text below as well in case it is hard to read.)

To my darling,

I hope you are doing well.

I do apologise for the delay in letters, travelling from country to country, I sometimes don’t get around to seeing a letterbox. Armin has planned a very strict itinerary for us; meetings, grand-unveilings or openings of new governmental bodies and such. I have had this letter folded in my briefcase for the longest time. It’s a miracle I hadn’t lost it (sorry.)

I miss you terribly. It’s been about two months since I last saw you and the kids, but by the time you read this I’ll probably be on my way home to Paradis. Living with you is something I’ll never regret, even if it means I’m away for some time…Maybe I’ll ask Armin to give me some more time off next time. He is sort of in charge of this whole thing.

At night is when I miss you the most, dear. What about you? Armin has Annie so I guess he’s alright (I won’t comment on Mikasa… as you can imagine it’s still rough), Reiner is obsessively wishing Historia was still single. Although, he and Pieck have gotten a bit close - I can’t see that working out, though? That is my personal opinion.

I like to imagine you in my arms at night (even if that means I get verbally accosted by Reiner in the morning for hugging my pillow), it helps me sleep. You know, the other night, I was thinking about the time back in the days of the Scout Regiment and we snuck out to the lake? The nostalgia really hit me. You know… you were the one to push me in first and I had to pretend I was a natural at swimming. I know we learned to swim back in the Cadet Corps but it was never needed. I had to impress you somehow, okay?! Captain Levi wasn’t impressed to see me walking back soaked to the bone… But even so, I think we just kept sneaking out?

Speaking of, we should visit the Captain again soon. He gave us a nice tea hamper of sorts as a wedding gift, and I don’t think we ever got to thank him properly? Maybe a trip to Marley is in order? Besides, Gabie and Falco haven’t met our kids yet!

If you’re in Marley, maybe I can upgrade the promise ring I got you all those years ago? If you want. I remember how happy you were when you opened the velvet box… gosh, I miss your beautiful smile. You looked so beautiful that day. You do everyday to me, in every conceivable way. In every angle, every outfit, every pose, everything. I’m so glad you’re the mom to our kids, you know that, right?

Tell the kiddos Papa misses them dearly. I can’t wait to hug you all when I get back (with souvenirs this time, before the eldest whines and goes off in a huff.) We can all go out again as a family then.

I love you darling,

Jean

[ringmyheart]

Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️