#im not scary i promise let me know if you want to be tagged | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lilac-5ky · 11 months ago

Text

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

#gojo x reader #gojo birthday #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru <3 #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader

303 notes · View notes

simp4konig · 1 year ago

Note

My personal thing, if you don’t mind me sharing <3, about König, while I know he has the potential to literally kill you without a second thought, I feel like he has a soft spot of children. Parents not so much, but he always spares the children. Now, for the bad behaved children I feel like he would give a scary talking to 👀

Because König feels very strongly about bullying, so if he heard a kid was bullying the other kid? Would come to their immediate rescue and shut the bully down harshly. For him, that’s a mercy, but he promises that if he ever hears word or sees them acting like that again he won’t be as “merciful”. But to the Victims he would console them, but also give them his harsh reality of “you have to be stronger than your enemies” and as much as he wants them to keep their innocence, he doesn’t want them to be weak either. Or worse killed.

But that’s just my little HC 😌

Anon rhis is such a good headcannon???? 🥹🥹 lemme just..,🤏🤌

No i don't mind qt all!!! 😊 If anuthing, im so glad you shqred this with me 🥰💖 bc I felt IMMEDIATELY inspired by this headcannon !!😽✨💖...

... so jere are MY headcannons for YOUR headcannon 🙈🙈⛅🌻💞💕💓✨🌼 Took me a short while to formulate my answer, so srry for the delayed reply 😿 I saw this as soon as you sent me this an i dont want u to tjink i ignored you at all:(</33

König with a soft spot for children headcannons🥺🥺

+ father König drabbles🤭

Word count: ~2022

*If you ignore my VERY angsty depiction of König's childhood, then it's totally pure fluff all around 💖✨🤗

*General headcannons for König

Writinf block is fuckinf AGONY and im in PAIN 😭😭💔💔 give me time to recover and ill powt two fully-fleshed out fanfics sometime soon 🙏🥺

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee

...

König, having been bullied all of his childhood, is FIRMLY against bullying.

To see a little girl/boy being labelled an outcast is oh too familiar to him, and hits far too close to home than it should. Brings back the insecurities, the feeling of being utterly humilated, a permanent reminder of his not fitting in. Literally.

Primary school: bullied for being a beanstalk, for head hitting the door frame, for being abnormally large, a "mutant"; balls hurtled at him in dodgeball, all competing in finding out who can knock out the "freak"; knees kicked from behind and legs buckling from the attack, a stampede of legs stamping on him as he cowered on the floor, helpless, and no one caring to help, teachers observing idly nearby.

Secondary school: nose broken to "fix" his crooked features, his "ugly" face; cast aside in class photos for "ruining the picture"; people of his own age turning their heads in the other way in disgust, avoiding him like the plague.

As if his "ugliness" was contagious, and if anyone was to touch him they'd catch the disease.

Power surpassing his tormentors, yet too powerless to fight back, he endured, yet didn't overcome.

Lasting trauma changed König's own perception of self completely.

It took a long time becoming the cocky and confident commander he presents himself as. To stand up to his full height and embrace himself for who he was and is, to be self-assured, domineering, and boisterous with others irrespective of their rank. The Colonel; a hardened soldier; a strict man of discipline exerting his authority over all, not at all sympathetic towards anyone.

Deep down, he is still that young boy, vulnerable in the center of a circle of so many pointing fingers and sneering faces. All became a collective body of ridiculing smiles, of sing-song laughter, so many that he lost count.

So, personally vowing to NEVER let his future children (or any children) go through the same turmoil, he would intervene whenever he had the chance to.

For instance, perhaps König was speed-walking home one day, dufflebag slung over his shoulder as he rushed to get back to you as soon as possible after being deployed these past weeks, and maybe he was passing by a playground.

Initially focused on the goal at hand, he couldn't help but turn his head, a small smile under his mask as he felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him. Nostalgic of times before he was forced to integrate with callous society.

Smiling at the oblivious children playing together, kicking their chubby little legs on the swings, sliding down a slide and falling, squealing. All giggling with glee, so innocent.

All except one. His eyes would land on a small girl, bawling on the ground, no older than five years old.

Surrounded by three others, all pointing fingers and laughing, the ringleader making fun of the poor thing as his henchmen stomped the remainder of her sandcastle, kicking sand at her. Hands on hip, chest puffed out triumphantly.

Rubbing her puffy eyes, thick pouting lips drooping in an open-mouthed frown, chin quivering as she struggled to contain her broken sobs, she kneeled on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest.

Usually, in these types of situations, people tend to behave in two very different ways when they see something that happened to them happening before their eyes:

"Why should I help them? I went through the same thing, so it's not my problem" or "I should help! They shouldn't have to go through the same thing".

You can probably already guess under which category König falls into.

He was NOT about to actively play a passive role in ignoring the poor blubbering child, to be downright apathetic like the other adults were in their radius. No way.

Still carrying his dufflebag, imagine the horror of the little shitlings*: seeing an imposing giant 2ft+ taller than them, huge body trudging towards their little troupe; cold, icy-blue eyes half-lidded staring into their bulging ones. Glaring.

Little band of clowns would probably actually shitting themselves fr 💀

Not only does König give the brats a stern talking to (all the while they are nodding their heads with jaws on the floor, knees trembling and nearly caving in on themselves), he later makes it his due diligence to track down the parent(s) and scold them too.

"Was wird deinem Gören zu Hause beigebracht? What do you teach your brat? This behaviour is unacceptable. You have set a terrible example, Du verdammter Idiot. How dare you allow this? Bulling is wrong. Scheiße, are you listening to me? Because you should, Dummkopf. You should be ashamed. I am sure ashamed of you. I swear to Gott—"

Cue 1 hours later, he personally grounds them (the child and parents)... 🤐

...And the child goes with it? Even the adults? 😭

I mean, to be honest, I would too, if a 6'10, body-so-broad-that-it-blocked-all-sunlight-and-did-not-fit-in-the-door-frame Colonel, gesticulating wildly, projecting strongly his German-accented voice, cursing in an aggravated amalgamation of furious English and a spiteful spit of German... Yeah, I'd be pissing my pants not even gonna lie 😭

I'd imagine that the parents would be immediately saluting, images of stupidity on their faces, completely dumbfounded to have their parenting challenged and to learn that their "precious little angel(s) that can do no wrong" actually can do wrong. (sorry guys i hate toddlers with a RAGING PASSION... rant over fyi no more of me insulting shitheads🥰)

As for the sweet, weeping girl, he would crouch down to her height, gentle eyes genuine behind his menacing mask. Slowly lifting the fabric, wary of his facial deformities, his scars, he'd do his best to give her a comforting smile, wanting to make her at ease.

She was not put off by his appearance at all. If anything, she maintained eye contact — was curious yes, so with no filter whispered, "You... you have a nice smile, sir. I like your eyes.

"They're—" a loud sniff, wiping her nose with her sleeve "—they're pretty. "

Taken aback, König's eyes widened. Then, in soft whisper:

"Meine Süße, I'm so very sorry about those— those idiots..."

The girl giggled a little, dimples appearing on her tear-stained cheeks.

"And I'm so very sorry, but there will others. Other idiots," he allowed himself to smile, letting out a dry chuckle.

A tentative hand dropping to her round shoulder, squeezing it every so slightly to emphasise his words. "And you have to be strong, Mädchen. You must be strong. This world isn't a good place for angels like you."

Obviously, he didn't sugarcoat the truth. Situations like this would be unavoidable. He would make that clear.

"I do not condone violence, but—" a wink, acknowledging the irony behind his words. "—if you stick your foot out when one of those brats are walking down the corridors, surely nothing will happen, ja?"

Seeing the girl lighten up, smiling brightly, no signs anymore of crying, he ruffled her hair with a toothy grin.

Letting the veil drop down his face, he suddenly fixed his posture and gave an exaggeratedly goofy salute as he turned to head home, satisfied. All the while the girl waved at him energetically, eyes crinkling up in an adolescent's adorable smile.

On another note: I never really gave it much thought before, but... König as a father? 🥺🥺

Your headcannons unlocked a part of my brain that had been locked. 🤭✨ Needed to upgrade my König skill tree before I got to this poin. 🦸🏼‍♀️ Sure has been worth it, though. 🤩

Ever since he was past his teenage years, the thought of a family was something he longed for. Desired.

Maybe it's because he was taught traditional house roles in his European household, or was longing for something that was out of reach, he couldn't tell.

What he was certain about was that it was his biggest wish. His dream.

Deployed in a foreign country, his favourite past-time was fantasizing about his future with a special someone, to have a big family, and to raise his children, giving them everything good he never had, and to shield them from everything bad he had experienced.

Something in being the breadwinner of the house was so masculine to him, and coming home to so many short, out-stretched arms, so excited to be reunited with their papa clinging on to his long legs brought a tear to his eye.

And, once you two officially became a couple, he knew that he wanted to start a family with you at some point. From the moment he met your eyes, intuition assured him that you would be the right one for him.

If you're a [fertile] female, he wants nothing more than to see miniature you and him running around, sweet cherub faces and their chubby cheeks smiling at him, calling him papa, calling you mama.

Seeing your belly swell up with his baby would strangely give him a sense of pride, proud that you would both bring sacred life into the world together, and would practically worship the ground you walk on. He would want to get this right, for everything to be perfect.

He wouldn't allow you to lift a finger despite your protests, catering to your every need, caring for you in any and all ways he could:

Carrying the groceries, 3 carrier bags in each hand, serving you while simultaneously subtly making you swoon, not missing the googly eyes you made at his strength from his peripheral vision;

Doing the bed, making sure to stock up on additional soft pillows and fluffy blankets so you would rest well, removing all stress from your morning routine, and the discomfort of finding a comfortable sleeping position at night;

Insisting you eat balanced meals, preparing nutritious food that had all the nutrients you would need, the sustenance to feed you and develop a healthy baby.

The gore and guts he had witnessed in the battlefield did not compare at all to the sight of blood staining the hospital bed sheet. The look of horror in his eyes as you went into labour, death grip on his hand, knuckles turning white. He'd be hyperventilating, almost feeling the same pain you were going through 😢💔

Not to say that your agony was worth it, but seeing the beautiful blanketed bundle in your arms, you cooing at the little one, made every single horrific moment combined in his life worthwhile.

All the struggles, the hardships, the troubles; all worth it if it meant seeing you with his child.

If you're anything other ([infertile] female, male, non-binary, etc), König would get so emotional when adopting a newborn with you.

He'd be teary-eyed, unable to hide the emotions.

To think that he'd be rescuing a child, giving them a second chance and making it feel so wanted, so loved. To give it all the love he was missing, the feeling forgotten through years of bullying, abuse, and violence, and war.

He would waste no time building the nursery. Painting the walls, building the crib, buying plush blankets, stuffed teddy bears, toys that would be in no way a choking hazard.

His helicopter parent preparations aside, his dream would be to grow old with you, and be surrounded by children, grand-children, and even great-grand-children, sharing stories as the lively atmosphere was bubbling with life, with a family.

Piggy back rides would be a MUST!! 😡 Or, better yet, his infants (taking turns — dunno if three kids at once is very practical 😭) sitting on his shoulders, seeing the world from so high up. Reaching out, and their head in the clouds.

Bouncing them on his knee, like a train conductor going through heavy turbulence, all the while the little ones would be laughing happily, telling him to go faster.

Every single one of his children cuddled up to him; in his lap, over his shoulders, splayed over his legs, clinging to him like a pack of koalas. 🐨

Reading bed time stories, stroking their head, stood in the door way minutes after his children had fallen asleep. Keeping them safe.

A family of his own. To eventually embarrass endearingly, to squish their cheeks, and tickle their sides, play-wrestle and tease by keeping objects out of reach. His extensive research also included horrible dad jokes, which were made hilarious by their poor translations into English.

Wanting to raise his children the way his mother had raised him while she was still around, to give his children the happy childhood he hadn't had, to make school a positive journey into adulthood. He'd teach them to deal with bullies, to stand up for themselves when he never could...

...And, athough he has good intentions, the truth is that with a father like him no snot-nosed brat would ever dare to mess with the Colonel's children ☠️

...

Note: Omg you. csn tell that i got so carried away w/ this😭😭 you know rhat line where König "fantasized" about a family ?yea that was me the entire time wiritng this...💔 God i need to stop daydreamimg excessively ajd return to reality 🥲 ...

...,,jk i wont 🥰💅✨💫 good mental health??😰😰 guurrl we don't know her 💆🏼‍♀️💫✨🧚‍♀️💓

Functioning like a normal human being💔🤮🤮🤮<<<<< Making up vivid scenarios in my head💓💓 😍😍😍

*fyi, shitlings is a loose translation for "gówniaki/gówniarze", an insult you have for children in Polish (similar to the English "shithead"). Do what you will with that new knowledge. The world is your oyster with that one ig 👍

138 notes · View notes

taylortruther · 1 year ago

Note

re your tags "the way taylor views and approaches love is way different than mine" "so in general a lot of her songs don't strike me as super romantic"

promise im not trying to start discourse or anything, im just very curious for you to elaborate on that because i find it fascinating. how exactly do you see the way taylor approaches love, and how is it different from the way you do? and can you elaborate on why you don't find her songs romantic in light of that?

the reason im curious is because ive always felt that some of her songs describing situations i think she finds very romantic, always give me mild ick (namely "the other side of the door," i find the idea of begging for someone back who cheated on you and admitting you "need them" kinda icky, but i think she finds it romantic in a way), so its interesting to me your tags kinda echoed that feeling and im curious for you to elaborate

you dont have to answer if you dont want though

well tldr you know how i am a ~touch grass~ nondramatic blogger? i am that way in my relationships too fjkadsl. and i don't think it's a hot take to say taylor isn't like that. she wants to be a lil melodramatic and romantic and passionate and out of control--she described wanting that (and thinking love should make you go crazy) for a long time. and i like passion and intimacy but i do NOT like feeling out of control and the times i allowed it were bad for me.

BUT!!! the really great thing about taylor's view of love is that we have seen it evolve and grow over time. she's addressed a lot of these things herself, because she's tried to unlearn a lot of behaviors that were hurting her! the archer, and much of lover in particular, is so stunning (to me) for that reason--she goes through her mentality of wanting conflict, going for the jugular, running away when things got hard or scary, icing out her partner, and basically begs him to help her through it. she said in so many ways, "don't let me let you go because i am my own worst enemy and i want to learn to be a good partner, not someone who cuts and runs." ie, she learned that cruelty works in movies, but life isn't a movie, life is about support and having healthy conflict so you can grow together. significantly different from "if this was a movie, you'd be here by now." i think she's been really clear about putting the work in and i love that and i will acknowledge that forever because it is hard to change, and she doesn't get enough credit for it within the fandom.

and this is completely normal/expected when you look at the maturity and growth of a high schooler to a 33-year-old woman. you live and you learn! it's really fascinating to see taylor do that in front of us, and i feel lucky she shares that with us.

but in general think taylor is also really driven by proving people wrong, and romanticizes her struggles more than i do--it is what makes her such a hard worker and beautiful artist and so growth-oriented. i'm not like that at all LMAO. like, i grow but i am just... different in my approach. and that's neither good nor bad for either of us.

#writing paragraphs about taylor swift

106 notes · View notes

1mlostnow · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞!!

Hi!! I’m Evan! This is Intro Post IV.

- Red text is primary information, things that I’d like to bring attention to, or just things I’d like to elevate above the others

I’m genderfluid, I only use he/him, I don’t have a label but I mostly like guys, and I’m a minor!!! If you’re 18+ feel free to interact but please don’t DM me or send asks.

[spotify] [insta] [wall of text] [tone tags] [ppth staff]

This intro post is incredibly long so I put primary info before the cut ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I love using those faces

Apologies if the red or the Blinkies are hard on the eyes :<

Other Blogs ⇩

EvanRadio : @evan-radio

Poetry and Writing : @1mfoundnow

House MD [B. Corcoran] : @head-of-forensics

House MD [G. Kramer] : @plastic-surgeon-gabi

Blinkies below the cut and throughout intro :>

Table Of Contents ⇩

1. The Basics

2. Fun Facts

3. My Resume

4. Primary Music

5. Guide To Tags

6. Hobbies

7. Other Media

8. Kinnie List

9. Primary Fandoms

10. Cast List

11. Outro

[ The Basics ]

- I absolutely adore nicknames, feel free to call me anything you want; chances are I’ll be fine with it

- pretty basic DNI -> homophobes, transphobes, racists, xenophobes, proshippers (wincest ಠ_ಠ)

- feel free to interact or spam (the good kind), my notifs are off so you won’t be bothering me at all!! Feel free to do asks or anons as long as yr a minor, I love love love answering asks. I promise I’m not scary, I don’t bite (anymore lol)

- I would prefer it as a personal boundary that you don’t DM me unless you truly deem it fit, those 1 on 1 situations tend to be incredibly uncomfortable for me. If there’s truly something you’d like to speak to me about in private, go for it.

- I love my mutuals to death. Whether we talk every day or haven’t spoken once, ily :)

- I greatly appreciate tone tags!!! There is a list at the top of this intro with a tone tag guide!

- CDT timezone, typically active from 7 AM - 12 AM (this will change to 6-8AM and 5-11PM soon)

[ Fun Facts ] + notes

- my car’s name is TOMATER (all caps)

- im the ninth wonder of the world

- I love doing little drawings

- if you want one just ask (examples at end)

- once again I love love love my mutuals

- Richard Cameron defender for life

- theme changes often

- ADHD & severe social anxiety

- if you ever draw anything for me I’ll love u forever

- The Man Who Would Be King (6x20) is the best SPN episode and nobody can convince me otherwise

- if I don’t respond I swear I’m not ignoring you!! Chances are I said ‘I’ll answer later’ and then forgot—just @ me!!

- if you ever have any corrections for one of my posts (typo, incorrect facts, hurtful language) please please let me know whether it be public or private, as the last thing I’d want to do is upset anybody.

[ My Resume ]

- Professional Ghostbuster, Midwestern Cowboy, Supervillain (for the fits)

- Bug you put in a jar with sticks and leaves and a few holes in the lid so it can breathe kinda guy yk?

- Weird kid and loser for life (I’m happy this way)

- I believe I’m incredibly funny (tell me if I’m not)

- Most sentences have bonus sentences (for the thoughts that didn’t fit into the sentence right)

- hot feral scientist

[ Primary Music ] + fav song by each (‘m basic wtv)

- AJJ -> Getting Naked, Playing With Guns

- Cage The Elephant -> Spiderhead/Halo

- Car Seat Headrest -> Life Worth Missing

- David Bowie -> Rebel Rebel

- Radiohead -> Karma Police

- Seb Lowe -> The Man, The Myth

- The Front Bottoms -> Be Nice To Me / More Than It Hurts You

- The Smiths -> Pretty Girls Make Graves

- Vundabar -> Worn/Wander, Sad Clown

- Will Wood -> Memento Mori

[ Guide to Tags ]

- #evan speaks -> yapping time, applies to majority of my posts

- #evan rants -> I’ve got a lot to talk about!!

- #evan draws -> I draw :3 some art at the end

- #evan can’t vote -> US politics (doesn’t come up that often, but still)

- #evan loves his mutuals -> y’all are my best friends and ily sososo much

[ Hobbies ]

- Occasionally crocheting

- Reading and writing

- I play alto sax in marching band (never rains on the *redacted* 🫡🌧️)

- loveeee art so much, specifically pencil drawing and painting

- idk if music counts as a hobby (listening+playing)

[ Other Media ]

Shows -> Supernatural, Sherlock, House MD, My Babysitters A Vampire (Rory my beloved), Scooby-Doo, Over The Garden Wall

Movies -> Dead Poets Society, Ghostbusters, Velvet Goldmine, The Truman Show, Goonies, Stand By Me, Saw Franchise, IT 2017

Others -> Homestuck, The Secret History, getting into newer classics (highschool english class books tbh), I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream

[ Kinnie List ]

Steven Meeks (DPS), Castiel (SPN), Richie Tozier (IT), Truman Burbank (TTS), Egon Spengler (Ghostbusters), Adam Stanheight (Saw), Henry Winter (TSH), Will Graham (Hannibal)

[ Primary Fandoms ]

Supernatural, Sherlock, Dead Poets Society, Homestuck, Ghostbusters, House MD

[ Cast List ] <- y’all are like my family ily

@pingunaa @ghostboyhood @wordssricochet @poetsinnyc @meekspeaks @midwest-quill @yourfavvgal @alightelixe @lv3buzzz @craicapparition @asclexe @lefthandedspaghetti @notcatseatheadrest @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @de4d-poet-kisser @cherrishnoodles @blakenation1 @desire-mona @prettypinkbubbless @sesamie @hemlocksloadofbull @mighthavebeenmurder @tired-and-bored-nerd @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @sillyhyperfixator

^^ if we ain’t close like that lmk and I’ll take you off dw ♥︎ and if I somehow missed you please please tell me and I’ll fix it right away, there’s some people I was gonna add but I wasn’t sure if we were friends like that yet lol

Outro!!

If you made it to the end of this thank you thank you thank you so much it means the world to me.

I can’t add more photos, so I’ll make and link a separate post with my art, so you can decide if that’s something you’d be interested in!!!

[ art here!! ]

#evan speaks #evan intro 4 #dead poets society #house md #homestuck #supernatural #i love my mutuals #all of my regular tags #intro post

27 notes · View notes

coquettebows · 1 year ago

Text

❥﹒bewitched (bewitched by laufey)

yang jungwon x fem! reader﹒genre fluff fluff fluff!, mutual pining, best friends to lovers etc ﹒word count 1k﹒warnings confessions, cuddles, kisses in the rain, i love the song bewitched, very disney!

"you bewitched me, from the first time that you kissed me."

"then we ran down the street in the late london light, the world froze around us, you kissed me goodnight."

his pale rosy skin, his arms currently wrapped around you while you both watch a scary movie. "[name]! pleasee, this thing is scary!" jungwon yelled out, once again hiding in your neck when a jumpscare came up.

even though your cheeks were practically red, you giggle at his antics. "jungwon, the movie isn't even that scary!" you snickered, then jungwon left your 'cozy neck' and stared at you with his cute cat eyes.

"jungwon..." "please...!" "fine!"

you reached towards the table and grabbed the remote. you turned off the tv and laid back to the couch. jungwon hugged you tighter, seeming scared. you smile and then you heard the front door unlock.

"hello? [name]! i'm home!" your mom beamed, closing the door behind her. your mom walked towards the living room. "oh hi jungwon! i didn't know you were coming over!" she smiled, also looking at you and winking at you due to the fact both you and jungwon were cuddling.

"i'll be in the kitchen making dinner." your mom grinned, walking off while taking off her coat to hang.

you and jungwon stayed cuddling, taking in each other's warmth.

"hey, jungwon?" "yeah?" "i'm going to be right back, im going to use the bathroom kay?"

"whyy?" "it's going to be quick i promise."

he unwrapped his arms from you then started sulking. you smiled at him and walk towards the bathroom. well, not before your mom grabbed you into the kitchen.

"oh my god, are you guys finally together?" your mom quiently squealed. "mom, no! i mean, i wish but we're not! he doesn't see me like that."

"oh please! do you see the way he looks at you! he's totally inlove." she beamed, making your cheeks go red. "mom! keep down please! now, im going to go to the bathroom..."

you sighed and turned around to walk run to the bathroom to collect your breath.

you closed the door behind you, immediately taking a deep breath in and out. you couldn't help but wonder if he really liked you.

i mean sure, you both had reallllly close calls of almost kissing but it never happened.

you stayed in the bathroom, collecting yourself for about 5 minutes before you finally decided to go out.

you walked out to the living room to see jungwon and your mom talking while eating dinner. "hey [name]! come eat with us pleasee!" jungwon grinned and you smiled back, taking a seat.

"we were just talking about halloween! jungwon wanted to tag along with us for buying decorations!" she rambled, and you quickly nodded.

"yes yes! tag along jungwon! it would make things 100x more fun!" "hey! are you saying im boring?" "no mom..."

"i'll tag along then!" he smiled, finishing up his plate. you smile at him and began eating.

──────

it was 3:33 am when you heard tapping from somewhere. you groan, trying to block out the noise. but somehow the tapping out louder.

you 'ughed' and got out of your warm bed to try to find that tapping sound. only to find yourself near the window, and opening it. a rock almost got thrown at your head but luckily you dodged.

"what the fuck..." you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and looking down to see jungwon.

"jungwon?" you uttered, and he sweetly smiled. "i didn't hit you right?" "yeah..."

"oh thank god! okay okay, [name] can you let me in for a second?" "oh, okay..."

you closed your window and quietly headed downstairs. you opened the door and then saw jungwon there in all his glory.

you stared at him and he stared back. "[name]...are you going to let me in?"

you came back to realization, "oh yeah! sorry..."

he came inside, taking off his shoes and quickly guiding you back to your room. "wha...what happened?" you ask him when he shut your door. "let's sneak out."

"huh? to where?" "anywhere! let's get food and head to the park!" "oh, okay, let me get ready then."

after a while of choosing an outfit, and just ended up choosing some hello kitty pj pants and a shirt, you both headed out and now getting some food.

"let's go to mcdonalds! it's open!" you say, and jungwon smiles, driving over there.

a silent air takes over, and you look out the window.

you both reach the fast food place, quickly going in, very hungry, you both get food, getting ready for the park.

you both laugh off from your conversations, not noticing the heavy rain coming down, until you both walk into it.

"oh, it's raining..." he mumbles. "the food is going to be soggy!" "you know what they say, the food tastes better soggy!" "no one says that jungwon."

he laughs and he grabs your hand. he runs, dragging you with him. you guys stop under a streetlamp. he puts down the food and smiles at you.

"[name], i feel like this is the right time to do this. please don't be mad at me." "what do you mea-"

he's kissing you. his warm hands caressing your face. you close your eyes and kiss him back just as intimately.

he broke the kiss off first, and he just kept staring at you. like he was taking in everything. "[name], i really really like you. never mind, i don't think like is the right word. [name], i love you. for so long. ever since we met, ever since you moved in from across from me. i've been waiting so long to let this out."

you smile at him and kiss him again. you feel him smile into the kiss and his hands hug your waist. you break off the kiss and smile at him. "jungwon, the moment i saw you, you bewitched me. you made moving here hundred times better. you always make things better, you make me feel better. i love you. tons and tons, and forever."

he hugged you, buring his head into your neck. "i'm really happy [name]." "me too."

you both stay like that, for a while before you spoke up again.

"so...are we going to let the food get even more soggier?"

#enhypen #fanfic #kpop #enha fluff #enha x reader #kpop fanfic #x reader #kpop x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon fluff

127 notes · View notes

chaotic-iguana · 1 year ago

Text

bruh.

what. what the fuck.

writing started off as an exploration; a hobby that i was just trying out. something new, to pass the time. but i feel like it has now evolved into an extension of my art. over time, my stories starting having more and more elements of the poetry-inspired commentary i like to have in the forefront of my paintings, or very simply the imagery i used to include in my poems themselves.

but that isn’t even the best part.

i’ve been writing for around a month, and i absolutely adore literally every single mutual i have on here. @breakfastatjoels, @mandoisapunk, @josephquinnswhore, @bastardmandennis, @nostalxgic, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @theywhowriteandknowthings @millerscoffee

you’re all such inspirations im so glad to know u all thank u all for existing i gen would not have kept writing/still be on this site without yall and i promise im wrapping up i just think its a little fucked that im…gaining traction? how? and the crazy thing?? that list of ppl tagged up there are like just the ones i could remember off the top of my head!! there’s so many more! @imherefordeanandbones, was my first follower and the first on my taglist, and one of the first people to make me think my writing was actually not that bad for a beginner!!

anyways while i literally question everything and melt in gratitude, i hope you all have great days. thank you very much. let’s hope we see many more!!

enough sappy shit.

as a celebration, im gonna write fics, blurbs or hcs (saw/nsfw) based on the following prompts:

this is from @havenoffandoms 800 follower celebration! just send me your character pairing and prompt. list below the cut

“I’m in love with you. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“It’s really not that complicated.”

“You’re in love with them, aren’t you?”

“We could get arrested for this.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Love is overrated.”

“If you think I’m going to talk to you while you’re dressed like that, you’re wrong!”

“Do you ever actually use your cellphone?”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

“You fainted… right into my waiting arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“You have to make a choice.”

“You have to remember.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You know, it’s okay to cry.”

“You lied to me!”

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“You need to wake up cause I can’t do this without you.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“The only thing hotter than seeing your orgasm is seeing your smile.”

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only.”

“From the minute I met them, there was no choice. They’re smart. They’re strong. They resent their parents enough to go for a person like me. Also they’re crazy hot.”

“What do you mean, I’m not scary? I literally nearly scared the life out of a man?” “You literally scared a little saliva and a little urine out of him.”

“When someone your age dies, you instinctively want to hear it was of something that could never happen to you. Well, it’s the same with divorce.”

“I get to stay home and plan the death of Dora the Explorer. Fill her backpack with bricks and throw her into the Candy Cane River.”

“You don’t ‘take a run’ at a person. You woo them. You make them feel special.” “Hey honey, look at this. It’s a picture of my butt.”

“I don’t like you.” “I’ll get over it.”

“You’re one of the most beautiful person I know, and you don’t even know it.” “No, I know it.”

“Why do you always have to throw wet blankets on my dreams?” “I do not.” “Yes you do. And you know what I end up with? Wet dreams.”

“So you’re gonna throw me under the bus?” “Oh, I’m gonna throw you so hard I might even win a stuffed animal.”

“Who wouldn’t be angry if you ate all the cereal and faked your death for three years?”

“Quick, catch the cat it stole my coin pouch!”

“I feel like I was just hit by a car… wait, I did? And it was YOUR car?”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?”

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five goats.”

“I hope you know that my name is actually _____”

“Please stop petting the prisoners.”

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it.”

“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

“I’m like 75% sure this won’t explode in our faces.”

“You know how my people are, we would destroy ourselves just for spite.”

“Wait, is that what you were trying to do? I’m sorry, I would’ve taken you much more seriously if I knew.”

“Let’s not blow the extortion charge out of proportion. My boss was just a sore loser.”

“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

“It’s illegal to make unauthorized species. But it’s also illegal to kill endangered species. Thankfully, I only did one of each.”

“The secret ingredient isn’t human flesh, that’s all I can say.”

“Where’s the king?” “He’s being chased by a wyvern. It’s an old tradition, you see.”

“If I serenade for you, will you strip for me?”

“This is new.”

“Make me.”

“Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Try it.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“The thought of losing you scares me.”

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

thank you. love you all.

#follower celebration #400 followers #thank you #love you all literally so much

56 notes · View notes

1eoness · 6 months ago

Note

BROOO u were literally probably the first author whose fic i read when i first searched up leon smuts last year 😭 ur works r so good n idk if u'll see this but it's nice to hear abt ur perspective, i feel like fics abt leon these days r so fucked up and scary, it reminds me of when i first read a fic of yours and it was nothing but normal and hot? i just mean it's like, what fanfiction should be, how smuts should be, just p in v and stuff without all that crazy shit, it sucks to see writers these days waste their talent on writing dead dove fics that are so horrendous that it really affected me mentally

helloo!! (im not dead mueheaheah)

WARNING : Mentions of dead dove content and the likes of its themes!

before i talk : [HIIIIII HEHAHEH thank you for your support!! i'm glad you liked my (very subpar) work! now that i look back on it those themes did enter a somewhat gray line at some point because i lacked a lot of experience in writing. i do not condone ever letting your professor have sex with you nor do i promote any kind of hate-motivated sex, or dubcon! it was merely a bold attempt of expressing hormones (if you know 😭) like a lot of people my age commonly do and so i had (and still have to) reedit the tropes in my work a bit, also because i turned 18 now and i wanna readjust my boundaries! i hope you dont mind. regardless, i love that you like those themes. very good! love you!! /p]

anyway, leaning more towards the topic at hand. i don't doubt that your opinion is much different than a large part of the community under this tag. which is a very, very good thing! i'm pretty sure it was ever since @/gilfhub's posts started to quickly rise in the top pages that lead a lot of users to be influenced and begin to tear down a very, very important boundary. i'm very sorry to hear that being exposed to that affected you mentally, that's the entire reason why i absolutely abhor blogs that post and enable that content. you're not alone on that either <3 and i agree! people should ALWAYS write boundaries in mind. i've lurked around the tag a lot and noticed a lot of "popular" writers who also have an alternative blog for dark content (this isn't just a specific account, there are a lot of these.) warnings don't make things better, they don't fend witnesses away, and it doesn't make you any less insensitive. "dead dove content" itself (which is really just incestual/horribly taboo sexual assault fantasies, no need to sanitize it) should always be suppressed and private (or, well, NOT WRITTEN AT ALL). the moment you put it up on any kind of digital page, you are attracting ANY kind of viewer and none of that shit is cute, i'm sorry. projecting your trauma onto a character is one thing but writing them as someone who skips the morality line is just straight up trying to exercise your power through the wrong means. just as much as you have the power to express yourself, you also have the power to make someone very uncomfortable. people don't think about these situations in the long run, that's why. they seem to really like using the "leon is just a character, i promise he won't care" argument which i also think is total bullshit cause this isn't even about leon, it just entirely reflects what your true values really are. they centralize around the need to express yourself at the expense of other people's comfort (because, for the nth time, it's a public space with an unpredictable demographic yet people seem to really like just doing the "bare minimum" on their part). whilst your perception of a traumatic experience may be valid, it doesn't give you any excuse. this is far from the idea of free individualistic expression, it is just as bad as some 4channer posting about wanting similar situations be inflicted onto them with even real, sentient people. because we all know why these themes allow themselves to be exposed to the audience and that's because it tries to appeal to a very specific group of people (which is very disgusting.) they want to be so condescending, too. like "oh grow up, i'm all under ur skin and for what." it's blatant ignorance, you're not very smart!

and finally as ironic as it is, porn is to blame for enabling a lot of similar themes. it's so obvious, too, a lot of fictions like the ones you mentioned that are dead dove always have to mention pornography titles in it. (honestly doesn't have to be dead dove either). sanitization can be done in MANY ways, and a lot of the times I notice it's through the way of romanticizing or aestheticizing it. I'm talking about those who put up mini pinterest-board headers of like three whatevercore images and then putting lyrics at the bottom of it. it's like an attempt at writing a very bad fucking movie not gonna lie. for example, they end up trying to decorate their post with elements that fall under anything curated aesthetic. and guess what? we've all been there but NOT for writing about uncle!character and their kid reader thats just flat out WEIRD. trust me you are NOT anais nin, you do not have to write lyrical prose and try to beautify something that will always be ugly and demented to its very core. you cannot call dead dove content "artistic vents", either. i also think i can understand that some people are victims who have failed to get help thus they try to cope through other means. but i will never applause someone for making the right choices. i think there's no excuse behind writing dead dove content other than to self mutilate your mental health in the long run for a temporary moment of "safe fun", and not even knowing that it is also in/directly harming the public eye.

it's rotten. it's disgusting. dead dove writers should not be welcomed in any fictional writing space. i've been triggered over and over again and it made me put off writing and reading for a very long time. i've experienced something similar before and i have gone crazy over it, and trust me, the things these people write so "generously" for their viewers are NOTHING but toxic waste.

tumblr is NOT your space, but everyone has a space in tumblr, so be conscious of yours.

i also encourage people to not stay silent on the matters if they want to speak up on it but are afraid of getting backlash. i've seen people delete their accounts over it (which, i guess is good on them since then they won't have to confront this kind of space anymore).

#leon kennedy smut #ivy responding #loen s kennededyyy!!!!

10 notes · View notes

blessedarethebinarybreakers · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you had any resources for doubt in your faith and God? I know doubt is a very healthy part of faith, but it still feels very scary. I've always believed in God but lately I've been doubting lately, and it genuinely makes me sad. I feel like God has held me so many times and has been there for me and others so many times, but for some reason I still doubt. I have OCD and it attacks the values I care about the most, and I'm pretty sure why I'm doubting God so much is because of that. It just scares me because I genuinely don't want to let go of my faith. It also feels awful because sometimes I pray and try to connect with God and im very content and believe in God, and then a couple minutes later I'm back to doubting His existence and it just feels so awful, having these ups and downs. I don't want to let go of God, especially the God that loves me so much. I have nothing against atheists or anything, I just can't imagine myself not believing and trusting in God. If you could also please pray for me that would be amazing. Thank you so much, may God always be with you <3

I'm sending you love and support, anon. Doubt is difficult; it's okay to feel scared or saddened or anything else by it. Doubt being a natural part of faith doesn't change that. Especially when you know your OCD is at play; I feel deeply for you as you struggle with that sense of an internal attack on what you hold dear, and I know God aches for you, too.

I want to start with the promise that when you have doubts, God isn't mad at you for it, or disappointed. God is with you in it. You won't lose your relationship with God, not ever! I know it's one thing to know that logically, and another to truly feel it, but I hope the knowledge brings a little comfort.

My main recommendation is Barbara Brown Taylor's book Learning to Walk in the Dark, which explores a "lunar spirituality" that accepts that faith, like the moon with its phases, waxes and wanes naturally. It also invites the reader to sit with difficult emotions like fear and sadness as important parts of the human experience, with advice for feeling more comfortable with emotions and experiences that those of us raised with a "solar spirituality" are taught to avoid at all costs.

If you're interested, your local library or even church library may have a copy; if not and you're unable to afford a copy for yourself, message me and I'll buy you a copy (ebook or used paperback). (You can read a few excerpts here first if you're not sure whether it's the book for you.)

Beyond that, you may find some helpful stuff in my doubt tag, or my #faith tag.

I will be holding you in my prayers <3

O God who knows our pain, our fears, our sorrows intimately, enfold this person in your comfort and warmth. Help them feel how your love is without end, without conditions, and is far stronger than any doubt they could have or thought their OCD could construct. Hold them close as they journey through their doubts, and learn to ask questions without fear. In time, may they come know to a joy that is deeper than easy answers, a faith that can weather the chillest doubt and even draw nourishment from that doubt. Amen.

#doubt #ocd tag

19 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 30 Beyond the sun

Chapter 30 of Cherry

A/N: Who’s back? I’m back! IM BACK!!!! *cue in Oprah you get a car gif*

Warning- Angst, long chapter, swearing, fluff, mentions of blood, wounds, ptsd

Episodes- 4x88 (special episode pt.1)

Pairing- Jean Kirstein x reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There he stood calmly, every bit of that boy you knew before he abandoned everyone in Marley, before he turned to this cold person, before he started the rumbling and began to stomp on the world beyond the Island. Here he was standing before you with those same ferocious green eyes full of hope and determination.

Eren was here before you.

“What do you need to say, Eren?” You probe. “What's so important that you couldn’t include everyone?”

Yet even if you saw him before you, your annoyance and anger doesn’t fade.

“Is it perhaps about what you’re doing?” You spat. “The destruction? The killing of innocents? Eren, what is—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off, and still doesn’t seem annoyed. “Just listen okay?”

You blink to look down at the sand beneath your feet and don’t respond with anything to let him speak.

“I know you have a lot of questions, I know you’re angry, you have every right to be, but,” he pauses and sighs. “I just need you to hear me out. I won't be able to say it again.”

What? What does he mean by that?

You slowly look up at him and narrow your gaze.

“When the time comes,” he continues and steps closer to you. “I need you to do what’s right. It’s all going to come down to one final act…you’ll know it when it comes. And if anyone else can’t, if no one will, please do it.”

Your anger and annoyance begins to fade, and concern and confusion replace it. “What are you talking about Eren?” You ask with a puzzled look. “What’s going to happen?”

Eren let’s out a deep breath, and then offers you a faint smile, one you haven’t seen in months. One so kind that this now seems like a dream.

“You’ve been a good friend,” he suddenly changes the subject. “You’re like the annoying sister I never had.” He scoffs softly, and you just look at him with more confusion. “I…” he pauses and his breath trembles. “I really hope you get everything you want out of life. You deserve it.”

“Eren,” you breathe out and still can’t figure out what to feel, even if you’re beginning to understand why he isn’t being cold, why he looks kind and sounds genuine.

“Live your life to the fullest, y/n, don’t regret a thing.” He closes the gap that was between you and holds your gaze with his watery eyes. “And promise me one more thing?”

Since you’re unable to comprehend what’s going on you remain quiet.

“Promise me you’ll look out for her…Mikasa.”

You blink in disbelief, and then it hits you like a bullet to the flesh. You finally accept what you were trying to deny. This….it’s a goodbye.

“Promise me you’ll be there for her.” He adds.

You shake your head, and now your lips form to a sad frown whilst your eyes fill with tears. “No, Eren, no. You can—”

“Come back?” He cuts you off. “After all I’ve done?” He shakes his head. ��I have to do this. I have to say goodbye. Just promise me you’ll live your life, okay? Don’t think about me, be happy and live your life with Jean or whoever you want. And look out for her, please tell her to live a good life, a happy life, tell her not to think about me. Please,” he begs as tears roll out of his eyes.

“Eren,” you whisper softly.

Said man offers you a gentle smile and lets his eyes linger on you to take you in one more time before he wraps you in an embrace.

His warmth and comfort shocks you at first since he’s never been one to be this affection. But as you take in his words, as tears escape out of your own eyes you hug him back.

“I’m glad I…” your voice quivers. “I got to meet you. You were a headache and quite scary, but I will never forget you.” You assure him so you won’t regret not saying what’s on your mind, and feel him hold onto you tighter. “I’m glad I got to have a brother.”

Eren lets out a slow sigh and whispers. “Keep this between us okay? You’ll keep your promise?”

You sniffle and nod. “I promise.”

And just like that the starry sky is gone, that bright tree is no longer ahead, and the comfort of Eren’s arms are no longer holding you. It’s cold and bright only due to the lights that come from the ceiling above.

He was right too, nothing changed around you in this physical state; Jean, Connie, Armin, Onyankopon and Reiner were still pulling in the flying boat, only your mood changed. Now instead of wanting to tease Connie as he struggled, as you were annoyed you couldn’t help, now a sad frown decorates your features, and tears roll out of your eyes.

Why did Eren have to tell you that now when you’re with everyone? Why you?

You suck at lying, people see right through you. He knows that. He knows it’s hard for you to keep things from Jean. It’s hard to keep in what makes you emotional from Levi. Why say goodbye?

Why does he have to say it?

No matter what—

No, no you can’t think about it any further or else you’ll just sob and not stop….but now, now it’s hard to actually be furious. What he’s doing is still wrong, but it’s hard to…hate him.

Fuck, fuck!

You let out a shaky sigh and push yourself away from the tall crates you’re leaned against to…do what exactly?

You can’t help the men because Jean doesn’t let you, “you’ll open your stitches”—please.

Maybe Mikasa needs help unloading!

You wipe away the tears and thank the night sky that it’s dark or else they’d see your puffy eyes. You the head over to the ship. Yet when you see her walking down with a crate in her hands, when you see her face all you’re reminded of now is what Eren told you, the promises he made you keep—you can’t be with her right now. Not now. So you turn on your heels and just take a step forward and stay there. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

You can’t go to Hange or else they’d make you spill everything, you can’t walk around the harbor because what if someone is out there in the shadows ready to take you back to a cell. You can’t talk to Annie because…well there’s nothing to say, and Levi?

You can’t lie but he wouldn’t force you to say anything, he’ll be good company too.

Thus before anyone can talk to you, you turn around again and just keep your head down as you make a beeline to Levi’s quarters. You rap your knuckles on the door and wait for a response. Which you don’t get so you knock again.

“Come in,” he mutters.

You slowly open the door and poke your head inside first, causing him to sigh. Yet before you can react you notice him sitting on his bed. “What are you doing?” You complain and rush over to him. “You should be resting. Laying down.”

Levi scoffs and swats your hands away. “I’ve had enough of it. I’m tired of being useless.”

“But you’re not, we understand,” you argue. “Please just rest.”

Levi looks up at you to meet your gaze. “I will if you do. You need it too, you’re putting too much strain on your wounds. If it gets infected what then? You’ll get a fever,” he answers his own question. “What if your heart can’t take it?”

You step back to sit next to him and sigh deeply. “I had a fever before you know? When I was on my way here, I didn’t die.”

“But how close were you?” He asks without hesitation. And that’s when he makes you go speechless because last time was a fever that almost took you.

“Exactly,” he interjects in your silence.

You swallow thickly and begin to fiddle with your fingers. This is not the talk you expected, but it does keep you from thinking about what Eren said. And to keep that up you comment on something discussed before. “So is it true that you’d go back home if we make it out of this?”

Levi turns his head to look at you with his eye and nods. “If it’s what you want? What of Kirstein though? You really think he’ll want to live in the slums?”

You shrug. “We don’t have to live underground….I just want a home. Some place where we can feast and see the stars,” you smile softly and meet his gaze. “Just like what we wanted. He can come, but if he doesn’t want to that's fine too.”

Levi raises his chin and narrows his eye. “Well isn’t that a change of heart.”

You drop your gaze and draw in a deep breath. “Being in Marley,” you sigh. “It changed me. I…” you shake your head. “I just don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”

Jean fills your head with so much pretty stuff, you want to still cling onto your previous wishes that you had before getting trapped in Marley, but as the days go by, as the nightmares haunt your mind slowly those dreams and wants get torn away. You want peace, you still love Jean, but it’s the future that’s hazy now.

Levi huffs out and carefully pats your hand before he slowly holds it. “That’s fine too. You’re young, if we make it out you’ll have the whole world to see. You can fall in love again and again. You’ll have choices, that’s something we didn’t have before.”

You hum in agreement and nod slowly. You stay quiet after that and just watch your hands, and it’s your silence that he reads you like a book.

“What's bothering you?” He asks.

You blink in disbelief and keep your gaze down as you shake your head. “Nothing. Just thinking of what we just talked about. What…we probably have to do.” Without giving anything away you lift your eyes slightly to share a question while also trying to find comfort somehow over what Eren said to you. “If it came down to it could you…get rid of Eren?” You can’t even say the word anymore. It hurts too much.

Levi studies you for a moment, tries to figure out why the sudden bleak question, but all he sees is anguish you can’t hide.

“If it came down to it,” he says but hesitates. “What else can we do? Why? Having doubts?”

“Whatever he’s doing, after all he’s done, he's still my friend, my comrade, and family.” You share with a sniffle. “If I regret then I will be miserable. But I’ve never had to fight against someone I really truly care about.”

Yes you fought against Reiner before when you learned of his betrayel, but this is different. Eren is different.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But sometimes we have to make hard sacrifices for the better.” His voice goes quiet and his gaze flickers away. You don’t question him, you don’t have to, so you just sit there and linger in the silence.

You need comfort and help with much more but you made promises you can’t break. So as for now that’s all you’ll say.

However, that silence that had filled the room, is broken by the springs of the bed sounding as the mattress begins to move. When you lift your gaze you catch Levi getting up.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snap at him as you jump to your feet.

“Getting out of this room,” he throws out like some senile old man. “I told you I’m done resting.”

You scoff and begin to follow behind him. “I promise I’ll come get you when we leave, you can—”

“Stop babying me, I…” he pauses and sighs. “I’m grateful, Cherry, but I can’t lay there anymore.” He opens the door of his room and begins walking out with struggle, but he still does it.

“It’s still crazy, you should still be in bed,” you keep reminding him and turn the hall with him, seeing the stairs coming up.

“So what?” He quips. “So you shits can forget all about me?”

You sigh and put your hands out behind him as begins to slowly descend the stairs. “No, we would never do that. You know that.”

He scoffs. “Besides that bearded bitch who passed out after her arm was broken is awake.”

Who is feeding him this information?

“And I’ll be damned if we don’t make her tell us where Eren’s going.”

Footsteps approach the stairs from below, and when you look down you see Armin. So if he’s here now that means the flying boat is in the hanger getting prepared for take off.

“What?” He gasps as his eyes go wide with worry. “What’s going on?” He tries to climb up, but stops when Levi shoots him a glare.

“He’s not listening, that's what is going on,” you remark and grab Levi’s arm to help him down the last step, whilst Armin reaches for his arm to do the same. Albeit Levi then swats both of you away.

“Stop, need I remind you I’m still your superior,” Levi throws out. “Being close doesn’t erase that. So stop trying to help me.”

He turns to head where Yelena is being kept, letting Armin and you share a concerned look before you both follow him to the room.

“I can say that Eren won’t be hard to spot considering who his travel companions are,” you comment.

“Well, we can’t waste fuel flying in blind,” Levi counters as he opens the door before Armin could.

As you walk in after Levi, you notice that Hange, Pieck and Lady Azumbito are already inside searching for the same information Levi is.

“Look at you,” Levi throws out to Yelena in disdain as she slouches in her seat. “You look pathetic now that your ape is gone.”

Yelena spares him a glance before looking back at the map. “Here,” she points to a spot on the map spread over the wooden table.

You pull the chair out for Levi and once he’s seated you lean over him to look.

“….Is most likely Eren's second target.”

“Fort Salta,” Pieck names before you could decipher the letters—“true. If he knew of the existence of weapons that had the slightest chance of harming the Founding Titan…”

“I expect that’s his next stop after Karifa Naval Port,” Yelena cuts Pieck off. “He’ll go destroy the airships.”

You sigh and lean back.

“You answered mighty obediently,” Levi interjects.

“I have a request for all of you,” Yelena shares and fists a handful of her blanket. “Please acknowledge something. Zeke was defeated. But he was right. The only solution to the two-millennium-spanning Eldian problem was the euthanization plan. I’m sure you can see that in the wake of this disaster.”

Even you have to admit that she’s right. As horrible as that alternative is for your future, for your peoples future, that plan would’ve been a thousand times better than what’s happening now.

“Yeah,” Hange agrees. “I admit it. I wasn’t able to show Eren any solution, or hope, or a future. I admit my powerlessness.”

You avert your gaze and quietly comment. “It’s not your fault. It seems he had made up his mind long before. Nothing to do now but stop him.”

Everyone stays quiet, but you know that they’re all in agreement.

“Anyway, if we’re done here,” you add on and walk around Levi’s chair to be in front of him. “Let’s get out of this room, yes?”

Levi narrows his glare on you for the way you speak to him, but he doesn’t argue this time considering there’s nothing left to do now that he has what he needs. Once you’re out in the hall he speaks up. “You should get some rest, Cherry, the flying boat won’t be ready soon, I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

You shake your head. “No. There’s things to do, like check my gear, I,” you sigh. “Can help them out there. Keep lookout.”

Hange pats your shoulder and contradicts you much to your liking. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that. We got that handled. But you haven’t slept since we left the forest, sleep, we’ll be around.”

Alone? Across the ocean? What if a Marleyean soldier sneaks in, what if colossal Titans come. You can’t possibly sleep now. So you turn them down again. “No. I’m okay. I can’t sleep.”

Hange turns their head to shoot you a pointed look, which is threatening for them considering when they look at you it’s never as serious. “Sleep, that’s a command. Levi will even accompany you.”

“Tsk.”

“I myself will come back and get you both. Swear.”

You look at Levi and then out the small circle windows on the wall of the ship to make sure that somehow someone isn’t looking in from outside. “Okay,” you whisper.

Hange shoots you a smile and a quick nod before they turn the hall and head out, leaving Levi and you to walk back to his room.

“Just,” you murmur once you walk in his room. “Leave all the lights on. And,” you add in a quivering voice. “Don’t leave.”

Levi meets your gaze to read your look, and doesn’t fail to see your utter terror that now haunts your eyes.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Just sleep though.”

You nod stiffly and sit on the edge of the bed to throw your boots off, climb in bed and try what they ask from you. Sleep. Which doesn’t actually long to take you under, your body and mind are exhausted so you fall asleep fast.

It’s peaceful, and for the first time in a long time it’s quiet.

At least it was for a moment because then a dream begins to infiltrate your mind. Albeit, this dream unlike the others is kind, sweet and nostalgic; you’re back home, not the barracks, home in that shitty apartment Underground.

You recognize the dirt street the moment the dream paints the picture. You recognize the damp dirt smell, you remember the fire lit street lights. It all looks so real, you even feel real, like somehow you got put there. But this time you aren’t young, you’re yourself, you’re even wearing your military uniform.

It’s scary real, but a relief from all the nightmares, the grief, pain, and destruction. You actually wish it was real….

Maybe the inside looks real too?

You break away from your spot and head to the house. And as you do, you then spot them through the window; Furlan and Isabel. They’re there, you see them talking and smiling. They’re home.

So quickly before any of it can disappear you break into a run and hurry home with a smile on your face, and tears in your eyes. When you make it to the door, you don’t knock, you just turn the knob and push the door in, seeing the candle lights travel out, and letting out the fresh smell of flowers that Levi liked to fill the house with so you wouldn't smell the stenches from outside.

You then walk in and expect to see Furlan and Isabel where they had been, but you then gasp and frown as you don’t see anyone, nothing but sudden darkness as all the lights go off.

“No,” you mutter and quickly turn to get out, but the door suddenly slams shut and even the lights from outside go off leaving you basked in pitch darkness. “No,” you breathe out, feeling even your breaths turn ragged whilst your heart and mind begins to race.

“My, my,” you hear a familiar voice taunt, “my Ackerman.” The doctor, you’d recognize his voice anywhere, anytime.

It’s just a dream though. It’s all a dream though, this is home. Home; comfort, relief, safe, nostalgic. It’s home.

It’s all just a dream.

You close your eyes to try to wake up and ignore the approaching footsteps. You lift your hand, and pinch your arm.

Hoping that worked you open your eyes—and now you see the room you were in before, you’re still on the ship. Levi isn’t here, but the lights are on, you’re okay. It’s all okay.

You let out a deep sigh and sit up to collect yourself.

“You thought you could run away, did you?” The voice cuts in again, making you snap your head up and look at the door. And there the doctor is walking in, no blood or injuries, just him and a straight jacket in his hand.

“No,” you snap out and crawl back to the wall. “Get away from me!”

He seems so real, he looks so real.

“Let’s go back home,” he says and begins to approach you. You try to crawl back more, but you then hit the wall and have nowhere else to go. “It’s where you belong.”

You shake your head and look up at the window, but it’s too small to escape out of.

“I said we’re going home!” He yells out and throws himself on the bed to grab your ankles.

You try to kick back, but he’s too strong he manages to pull you back.

“No!” You cry out and dig your nails on the matress. “No! Get away from me! I’m not going back! Let go! Let go!” He pulls you off the bed and then slaps his hands on your arms, making you jump and shut your eyes out of defeat.

“Y/N,” another voice mutters, and triggers something to break. “Y/N, wake up, open your eyes.” This voice is more soothing, this one is closer to you.

You shake your head and begin to cry. You can’t open your eyes out of fear that you wouldn’t see the man that’s calling out for you; Levi.

“You’re safe,” he whispers. “You’re safe. You’re with me. Cherry.”

You slowly peel your eyes open and see the bland ceiling, you move your fingers and feel the stiff mattress, not the cold floor. You’re afraid to turn your head, but you do it slowly and luckily see Levi with a worried look painted on his face.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re not going back,” he assures you.

You let out a shaky breath and sit up to drop your head on your hands. Nothing changes now, he doesn’t leave either, he stays by you on the edge of the bed.

“I thought Hange and Mikasa were being dramatic,” he adds quietly. “I've never seen you like this.”

You sigh and lift your head to look at the white bland wall that brings nothing but more sadness. “It’s new, weird too. I can’t tell the difference between what’s real or not sometimes.”

“Can’t say I can offer much help with that, but you can ask me or anyone else,” he lets you know, causing you to blink and meet his gaze. “I’ll tell you.”

Tears fill your eyes and you nod slowly. “Okay,” you let out in a shaky voice. “Then can I ask one thing?”

Levi nods in agreement.

“This.” you whisper and avert your gaze. “War, we’re almost done. Is that real?” You drift your eyes back to him and wait.

Levi takes long to answer, but it’s not because he’s hesitant, it’s just hard. “Yes, one way or another, we’re almost done with all this shit.”

You let out a deep breath and nod. You want to just unload everything that Eren told you now that you’re sharing this moment with Levi, but you made a promise to Eren. One you’ll regret breaking if you do. And even if life has turned to shit, you can’t break that promise you made yourself about not regretting.

“Come on,” he encourages you and stands up off the bed. “Sun is rising, the flying boat is almost ready to go, we need to put on our gear.” He doesn’t hesitate to begin walking out, and you don’t take long to follow either. However, Levi does stop when you reach the end of the hall. “Clear your mind, Cherry, you can’t risk getting lost now. No matter how hard it is, don’t lose yourself in your mind, understand?”

“Yes,” you nod in agreement. “I understand.”

Levi opens the door, welcoming in the natural soft sunlight. “Good,” he says. “We need you. I do.”

You smile softly at that and can’t help but get all giddy. Even if it’s just a short moment.

The moment you make it to the ship's ramp your name is immediately called. “Y/N.”

You lift your head and land your gaze on Jean heading your way, so you smile even wider. He meets you halfway on the pier and immediately bombards you with concern. “You feeling okay? Did you get any sleep?”

Your small begins to falter and you shrug. “Some. What have you been doing?” You probe and walk towards the hanger by his side, noticing the gear he’s carrying in his hands. “Working hard?”

Jean smirks. “You know me.”

You scoff softly and nod before pointing to the gear. “Is that for me?” You meet his gaze and offer him a soft smile.

Jean glances down at it and nods. “Thought I could help you so as to not add strain on your wounds when you don’t need to.” He looks up and looks you in the eye, making you avert your gaze and tilt your head away to hide the scar on your face.

“You okay?” He asks without needing to be told anything, he knew by your look alone.

“Yeah,” you nod as you come to a stop so he can begin helping you. “Just tired…you know.”

Jean lets out a deep sigh and remains quiet as you know he stands there unconvinced. “You sure? You left in quite a hurry when you were so adamant on helping us.”

You meet his gaze and nod softly. “Yeah….” He can’t know. Him most of all.

Damn Eren.

“Okay,” Jean breathes out and finally begins to help you get your gear on. “Well you need to eat, so grab something after we’re done here.”

You hum in agreement and then let him help you get your gear on, you relish in his presence, find comfort in the warmth that radiates off him, and shiver at the feeling of his hands grazing your skin. However, as you’re holstering your weapons you catch your reflection on the metal, you catch a glimpse of the scar that ran from under your eyebrow up to your forehead, and all those blissful feelings disappear.

Out of all the scars you have on your body, this one on your face is the worst, not only because it’s hideous and ruins what you once cherished, but it’s also a ugly reminder of this war, of all the comrades you killed to get here, it’s the reminder of all the tragedy…

You let out a small sigh and holster your weapon, Jean steps back as he finishes helping you, and as you look ahead you catch the gaze of Reiner on you.

How long was he watching you? He looks like he has something to say from all the way over there too.

Was he watching you as you studied your scar?

Creep….

You look away first and focus on your boyfriend. “You need help?”

Jean shakes his head. “No, I got it. You grab something to eat.”

You offer him a sweet smile and nod, even if your appetite is lost. “Fine,” you mutter and begin walking past him.

Yet before you can leave his side, he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him to cup your cheeks and smile at you. “You look beautiful, you know that?” He says as if he knew what you were just being insecure about.

You sigh softly and offer him a wobbly smile.

Jean leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips before he murmurs against your lips. “We’re almost done here. For good this time. After that it’s just you and me. Just keep fighting, okay, sweetheart?”

Before you can dare to answer, Jean pulls you in for an embrace that immediately makes your chest feel heavy as tears fill your eyes.

Again, it’s like he can read your mind, you were in such desperate need of comfort that thinking of pulling away pained you. But you had to eat the dry ass ration food.

Once upon a time you actually liked eating them because it’s not something you had underground. It was a long time ago though, your tastes have changed, and this lack of appetite doesn't make this any more appealing.

“Hange!” You hear Onyankopon shout whilst you make your way to them after getting your food. “In about an hour, we can begin preparations for takeoff!”

“Got it!” Hange retorts and turns back around to face the group.

Once you finally reach them, they share their order so they wouldn't repeat themselves. “You heard the man. Each of you, inspect your gear.”

“Yes, Commander,” everyone agrees at the same time whilst they were all doing exactly that.

“Cherry,” Hange now directs at you. “You have everything handled?”

You swallow back the food in your mouth and nod. “Yeah. Jean helped me.”

“Good,” they nod.

Since jean said he didn’t need help, and the others can help themselves, you look to Levi to offer your help, but before you can even part your lips, you freeze as you notice his blade handle shaking as he’s trying to press the trigger with the two fingers he has.

He never was one to struggle before, not when you were a kid and not when you were above ground, so seeing hin strain, seeing that glimpse of his frustration as he tries hard to press that trigger, filled you with shock and pity.

“Two fingers is all I need,” he says as he finds the way to press the trigger. “I’m ready.”

He’d hate you feeling pity for him, so you shove all that away and let him be to continue eating. And since your friends are getting ready you stand back and wait for them to finish.

And just as they do finish, Hange and Connie yell out, “Annie!”

You shift your gaze to the boat and see her stopped by the ramp.

“Annie, take care!” Connie says.

Oh that’s right she’s leaving.

“See you later!” Hange tells Annie too as they wave at her.

You hold no grudges against her anymore so you shoot her a faint smile before you turn away again.

“To be honest,” Jean interjects. “I was relying on her.”

“But Annie has fought enough,” Connie adds, making you scoff.

“Haven't we all?” You counter and put the spoon in the can as you finally finish. “What makes her different from all of us? From her own comrades?” You ask.

Connie and Jean look at you and are unable to answer to your shocking response, so you continue.

“Nothing, that's what. She’s just running away, that’s just as bad as giving up,” you whisper that last part and break away from the pair to go sit on a wooden crate under the furious dawn painted sky.

You sit and hear them all in the hangar standing behind you, you find safety in hearing them work, hearing others talk as they eat, you sit and breathe in the fresh air, you sit and reach your hand out to watch the sunlight bask your hand. What would that little girl dreaming to come above ground think of you now? What would she think of the person you are now?

What do you think of yourself now?

So much comes to mind, but it’s hard to pick one specific thought.

“Taking in the sun, huh?” You hear someone interject behind you.

You pull your hand back to peer over your shoulder, spotting Pieck walking your way.

“While I still can,” you respond and watch her fall by your side. “It feels different when you’re not stuck behind walls.” You peer back to check if Reiner would be with her since it’s surprising to hear talk to you, but he’s not with her, he’s actually with the others. “Would you agree?”

Pieck nods. “I can actually say I can. It feels….hotter, richer, like it actually shines for you.”

You smile softly and nod. “Yeah.” You shift your glimpse to her and probe. “What about when you’re on Titan form? How does that feel?”

“Well being in Titan form feels liberating, for one,” she shares. “But when the sun hits I’d say it’s cold, like it doesn’t shine for me but the form I’m turned into. It’s perhaps one of the reasons why I don’t like being in Titan form for so long. I miss the sun.”

You smile down at your hands and retort after a moment of silence. “Well soon perhaps you won’t have to turn anymore.” You say and meet her gaze. “You won’t have to miss the sun.”

Pieck folds her arms over her chest and sighs. “You might be right. And from now on, regardless of the outcome with Yaeger, the walls won’t be a problem for you.”

You swallow thickly and avert your gaze to nod without actual sincerity because lately finding bliss under the suns light has been difficult.

“A month ago, in Marley,” Pieck interjects suddenly. “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? I heard I was only inches away from death, so why didn’t you?”

“Simple,” you don’t take long to answer. “I hesitated.” You begin fiddling with your fingers and let out a deep sigh. “And well—”

Yet you don’t get to finish what you want to tell her because the sound of bullets being shot from in the hanger steals your attention, and causes the both of you to run over. That’s when you see Floch at the other end of the hanger with a gun in hand. You then barely manage to catch Mikasa hastily shoot out her grapple as she zips forward to stab Floch right through the throat.

It doesn’t seem believable at first, like, where the hell did Floch come from? Has he been around the entire time, lurking?

Yet you know it is real because well, it’s just everyone’s shitty luck so far, two, by everyone’s startled and panicked reactions, and three, why wouldn't he try so hard to fight until the bitter end?

Not like his end actually bothers you. Not anymore, perhaps once you would have been affected by his death once, but now, after seeing what he did in the name of freedom, of what he wanted, you don’t care that Floch is dying. It’s why as Jean, Connie, Armin, Mikasa and Hange run over to his body, you instead run over to Onyankopon.

“Onyankopon!” You call out as you reach him lying on the floor with his hands over his head. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t seem to have been hit in any way from what you can see, thankfully.

Said man lifts his head and sits up on his knees, letting you grab his arm to help him to his feet. “You okay?” You ask again and examine him for any sign of fresh blood.

Onyankopon studies himself and shakes his head. “No,” he breathes out shakily. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

You let him go and offer him a nod.

“The flying boat,” he interjects and runs past you, making you turn to watch him approach it and check it out for any new defects. And since he’s blocking your view, you walk to where Levi is under the hanger to look at the flying boat better.

Alas, that’s when you catch the sight of bullets on the flying boat. Yet you don't know where exactly.

“Hange!” Onyankopon yells out when he notices the same thing. “There are holes in the fuel tank!”

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes widen.

“We can’t fly like this,” Onyankopon says.

“Don’t lose hope,” one of the Azumabito tells him when he approaches Onyankopon. “If we cover the holes, we can make it work!”

“Get the wielding tools!” Someone else orders their comrade.

You get closer to the flying boat and squint your eyes on the damaged part, and even if they’re small little holes, they still did enough damage.

“How much will it take?” You ask the men out of curiosity.

“With tin plates, we could do it in an hour, barely,” a man answers you.

An hour? No, that's too long. Way too long.

Yet before you, or Hange right beside you can rebuttal, the ground beginning to shake steals all the words out of your mouth, and the breath out of your throat.

It can’t be…

“This sound,” Hange mutters.

“Don’t tell me,” Reiner yells out before he runs out of the hanger.

You stand there frozen in your spot feeling the ground tremble beneath your feet, hearing the echoes of loud stomps on the ground hit like lightening. There was supposed to be more time, you were supposed to have more time!

You snap from your stupor and run out to join the others outside, catching the thick clouds of smoke that already cover the horizon. You swear you can already feel the heat too, but maybe that’s just an exaggeration. The one thing you do feel is more shock and fear as you now see the titans marching your way.

“Armin,” Mikasa interjects through the shocked silence that was spread over your group. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Only one,” he says. “I stay behind and slow them down.”

One of your greatest friends, and best assets to ending this war? No. Hell no, not him. Going out there means certain death, everyone knows that; everyone has to.

“It can’t be you,” Reiner quickly rebuttals. “You’re our sole trump card for stopping Eren. I’ll do it.”

“And I’ll help,” you volunteer without a single doubt; you’re fast, and whether you want to admit or not you do make a good team. He’ll need you.

“What?” Jean quickly protests and grabs your shoulder. “It can’t be you!”

You snap your head back and part your lips to argue, but Hange then cuts you off as she joins the group. “That’s obviously not the play. We can’t afford to expend another shred of Titan power, or lose Ackerman strength. I’m the one who led you this far.”

No….

“And we killed many friends and comrades to get here,” Hange continues. “I'm taking responsibility for that.”

Not them either. It can’t be them either….

“Armin Arlelt,” they add and walk past you to reach said man. “I hearby designate you the 15th Commander of the Scout Regiment. The position calls for a certain quality. A mindset of continuously pursuing understanding. There’s no one more suitable than you. I leave everyone in your hands. Well, that’s that. See ya, everyone.” They just throw it out as if nothing. As if they aren’t sacrificing their lives!

“Wait,” you whisper, but it’s not loud enough.

“Ah, yes,” Hange adds one last thing. “Levi’s your underling now, so really put him to work.” They continue to walk down the pier with nothing else to add, with nothing to tell you, not even a glance to the other scout they’ve known the longest, the one person they raised. Hange just walks off.

“Wait!” You yell out and walk a few steps forward.

Hange comes to an immediate stop but doesn’t look back. “Don’t make this hard Cherry-girl.” They say to the air. “You can’t stop me, you know you can’t. It’s for your own good. For everyone’s own good. I’m giving my heart.”

You shake your head and swallow back thickly the lump that begins to form in your throat. “Let me come,” you plead softly. “Let me help you. Let me give my heart and give you a chance to see this through. Please,” you beg and take another step towards them. “You deserve to see this through. Please…”

Hange shakes their head. “I told you that I can’t spare Ackerman strength. It has to be me and me alone. Leave on that flying boat that’s an order.”

An emotional weight falls on your chest that makes it ache, and a tight sharp grip wraps around your heart that makes it bleed as you know that there's nothing you can do to change their mind.

“Please,” you plead one more time in a shaky voice.

Hange exhales and keeps their back turned. “I said no. Who would I be if I let you come with me? Huh? Fight and live your life for me, for all those we lost, okay? Promise me.”

As to not break their own heart by not responding, you nod. “I promise,” your voice breaks.

Hange nods and then continues to walk away, only stopping to share a few words with Levi that you can’t hear over the pounding of your own heart, over your own disbelief that begins to fall more and more each second.

You don’t even want to accept their….sacrifice though, the fact that you’ll never see them again. You try to play it off as some silly dream, a cruel dream actually. You close your eyes and open them again in hopes it is just a stupid dream, but no the titans are still approaching, and now they’re actually flying off. They’re leaving….

You can’t deny it no more.

“No!” You cry out and try to run out after them. You lift your gun to shoot your grapple to chase after them, but before you can get far with Armin, Mikasa and Jean who run after them down the pier, arms then wrap around you and stop you. “No!” You fight them off through thick and hot tears. “Let me go! Hange! Hange!” You call out and try to desperately reach out for their retreating figure getting smaller and smaller in the sky, but those strong arms stop you from moving.

“Hange!” You cry out as loud as you can so you can they hear you, even if you yourself can’t see them anymore with the cloud of tears that cover your eyes. “Hange!”

“You can't stop them,” you recognize Reiner’s voice. He’s the one who’s holding you. “You have to let them go.”

You shake your head and sob out, you grow weak by the fact that your heart was shattering more and more. So weak in fact that you can’t even hold your weight so you fall to your knees, and Reiner falls with you.

“Please,” you mewl out even if they can’t hear you anymore.

You then wipe your eyes to try and see them fight off the Titans, but Reiner then holds the back of your neck and turns your head away so you wouldn't see.

Which is actually good, you probably couldn’t see their last moments, you couldn’t be strong enough to watch them…die. So since Jean isn’t here and Connie is too captivated by Hange’s fight, you clutch onto Reiner and bury your face on his shoulder, and keep crying out for yet another lost comrade, friend, and family. You just play the memories you share with them over and over again, you just hear the sounds of the titans falling, but don’t look.

“It’s sealed!” You hear someone shout from the hangar. “Start fueling! Hurry! Hurry!”

“Come on,” Reiner mutters and begins to pull you back. “Let’s get you on the flying boat.” He grabs your arm to help you up, and without holding your anger, your hate or grudge against him you let him help you back to your feet. You let him walk you to the flying boat, and let him help you inside so you could keep not seeing and only hearing.

“They’re right on top of us,” someone shouts. “There’s no more time for fueling! Start the engine!”

Losing comrades, friends, family should be dealt with ease now since you’ve experienced so much loss in your time of living. Knowing death, feeling its vast emptiness every time it takes someone else shouldn’t hit you as hard, but after losing them your grief only gets worse and worse each time. This time you can’t even handle that sharp ache that radiates all over your chest, you can’t even feel your heart.

“Push through fuselage forward!”

They push the flying boat out of the hanger, you see the light hit you, but you keep your eyes averted from the small windows to avoid seeing them die.

“Launch the ship!”

And with those last words shouted out Jean is the last one that jumps in before the door closes behind him, blocking that tragic view, that last view you could’ve had of Hange. The boat then flies off and you close your eyes and rest your head on Levi’s shoulder to not watch your own friend's grief. Not this time. You can’t even handle your own.

“So long, Hange, watch us,” Levi mutters to himself.

You stay quiet and just assure yourself of one last thing, Hange was a hero, a brave hero who gave their heart. You will too.

Tagged- @expectoscamander @greenygreenland @that-soft-lesbian-friend @dai-tsukki-desu @usernamehere91 @avocadopoosae @romancried @victor-criss-bish @moo-moo-meadow @stareatceiling @padfootii @ravensleepyeyes @thanosisadilf @dawneee @babyyblueey @leahseclipse @ifimnotabushimnoone @luvelyxp @ameliabs-world

57 notes · View notes