#within some reason of course. but still………

[goonforgeto]

❅・PARTY 4 U

SYNOPSIS —If there’s one thing Gojo Satoru knows how to do, it’s throw a party, the kind that becomes campus legend by Monday morning. With the grades, the girls, and the frat house loyalty, he seems to have it all. But maybe the real reason behind his biweekly ragers isn’t the crowd or the chaos — maybe it’s the one girl who never showed up.

WC — 5.7k

CONTENT — college/university au, gojo yearns a lot, use of y/n twice, mentions of drugs and alcohol, implied sex, implied hookups, fratboys (ew), i didnt know what to name the frat so we’re using alpha beta sigma, highkey a self insert if you squint :p, readers a year older than Satoru, 100 million time skips

a/n: in case you couldnt tell this is inspired by the great gatsby and party 4 u by charli xcx! this is a reupload if you have seen it before!

masterlist | divider 1 | divider 2 | read on ao3

fratboy!Satoru was whipped.

It all started at the middle of fall semester in his first year.

He’d always been attractive, sure, but after ditching the glasses the summer before highschool, something shifted. By the time senior year rolled around, girls were paying attention. A lot of attention. And it definitely went to his head.

By the second month of university? Satoru was a menace. Flirting with anything that breathed, flashing that stupid smile like it was currency, and always, always showing up at parties like he owned the place. 

He’d secured his spot in one of the university’s top social fraternities within the first week, like it was second nature. By then, rejection had become a foreign concept; he hadn’t heard a “no” in years, not from professors, not from party invites, and definitely not from girls. He strode through campus on confidence alone, all charm and winks, always knowing exactly what to say to get what he wanted.

Unfortunately, Satoru only realized the consequences of skipping half his data lectures when midterms rolled around and suddenly he was cramming in the library at midnight, surrounded by highlighters and half-empty cans of energy drinks.

He was completely unaware of just how unprepared he was. Sure, classes had been in full swing for weeks now, but somehow, between skipping lectures and partying three nights a week, he’d never gotten around to buying the damn textbook.

So here he was, sleep-deprived, dressed in a shirt he didn’t remember owning, trudging into the campus bookstore with the vague hope they still had a copy in stock.

"You got Data and Stats?" he asks the cashier, nodding toward the textbooks behind the counter.

The cashier points a thumb toward the back of the store. “Think there’s one left in the aisle by the back wall,” he says. “But no promises, it might’ve been snagged already.”

He rounded the corner too fast, eyes scanning the shelves, and collided straight into someone—hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs.

“Shit—sorry,” he said, steadying you with a hand on your arm.

You blinked up at him, eyes wide, textbook already clutched to your chest.

Of course. The last copy.

You raised a brow at him, arms tightening just slightly around the book. “Watch it.”

“My bad,” he grinned, gaze flicking from the textbook to your face. “You a stats major?”

You looked unimpressed. “No. Just reviewing some concepts from first year.”

Satoru’s grin widened. “Smart and older,” he said, almost to himself. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” you said flatly, stepping to the side.

He followed. “I’m Gojo, by the way. Satoru.”

You didn’t offer your name. Just adjusted your grip on the textbook and said, “Nice.”

“Listen,” he tried again, leaning against the shelf casually, “I’ve been out of the loop, but I’m a fast learner. If you’re already reviewing this stuff, maybe you could tutor me a little? We could grab coffee. I’ll pay.”

You blinked. “You want to bribe me with overpriced caffeine to do your studying for you?”

“Well, when you say it like that,” he said, laughing, “yeah. Pretty much.”

“No thanks,” you said, already turning away.

But Gojo never was the type to take no for an answer, not without trying at least one more time.

“I’ll let you quiz me while I’m shirtless,” he called after you, hands cupped around his mouth. “Strictly for motivation, obviously!”

You didn’t even look back. “Keep the shirt on, Gojo.”

He smirked.

Game on.

Midterms came and went, and for once, Satoru didn’t care about his grades.

He found himself drifting through campus with one thing on his mind…you.

It had been two weeks since the bookstore. You’d turned him down with more ease than most people say hello. For some reason, that only made him more interested.

So, he started asking around.

“Yo, you ever seen a girl on campus? She’s a second year, kinda sharp, kinda scary?” he asked Suguru one night, nursing a red solo cup and leaning on the couch in their frat house.

Suguru squinted at him. “That describes half the RAs on campus. Be specific.”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She had the data textbook. Met her in the bookstore. She made me feel like I was failing a class I wasn’t even enrolled in.”

“Ah.” Suguru looked mildly amused. “You mean the one who told you to keep your shirt on?”

Satoru perked up. “You have seen her?”

Suguru shrugged. “No, you just can’t keep your mouth shut.”

He moved on to others, anyone who might’ve seen you at a party. But none of them had. Not even the quieter, more observant guys who tended to remember faces.

Which only made you more intriguing.

You weren’t a party regular. You weren’t in his classes. You weren’t showing up in any of the circles he ran through, which for a smaller, prestigious university, was definitely odd. It was like you’d vanished.

And Gojo Satoru, for once in his life, was losing his damn mind over someone who hadn’t given him the time of day.

Finals came about, and Satoru was no closer to finding you than he had been two months ago.

At this point, he’d practically become a fixture at the campus bookstore, enough that the cashier, a second-year named Haru, barely blinked when Satoru sauntered in with his usual energy and zero academic urgency.

“Hey,” Satoru leaned on the counter, spinning a pen from the stands between his fingers. “Did she stop by?”

Haru didn’t even look up from their phone. “Dude, I still don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“You know,” Satoru insisted, pushing a hand through his white hair. “She’s like this tall. Smart. Had a data and stats textbook and an attitude problem, ringing any bells?”

Haru finally glanced at him, deadpan. “Do you know how many people in here have an attitude and a stats textbook?”

“She told me to keep my shirt on.”

Pause.

A snort escaped before Haru could stop it. “Okay, that I remember. You were sulking for , like, three hours after that.”

“She was mysterious,” he defended. “It’s different.”

“She rejected you.”

Satoru huffed, flopping over the counter like a kicked puppy. “And now I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Please,” he said dramatically. “If you see her, just text me. I’ll pay you in eternal gratitude. And snacks.”

Haru raised a brow. “You already bring me snacks.”

“Exactly. So now it’ll just be… slightly more motivated.”

They rolled their eyes. “Fine. But you owe me if she’s real and not just some rejection-fueled hallucination.”

“She’s real,” Satoru grinned, standing upright again. “And when I see her, I’m gonna make her fall in love with me.”

“If you say so.”

There was a café about a mile off campus that Satoru had been meaning to try ever since his frat brother and roommate, Suguru landed a part-time job there. Not because he craved overpriced oat milk lattes or wanted to support local businesses, Satoru just liked free things, and free pastries via a friend behind the counter were reason enough to visit.

He had his laptop open, a half-finished spreadsheet glowing on the screen in front of him. To anyone passing by, he looked like the picture of productivity: earbuds in, brows furrowed, iced americano sweating beside his elbow.

In reality, he’d spent the last thirty minutes switching between Excel and an online quiz titled “What type of bread are you?”

(He was sourdough. Apparently because he “looks crusty but has depth.” He wasn’t sure if he should be offended.)

Suguru was behind the bar, sleeves rolled up and hair tied into a messy bun as he wiped down the counter with the kind of slow precision that said I get paid minimum wage. It was a normal, uneventful afternoon.

Until Satoru looked up… and nearly knocked over his drink.

You.

You were here. At this café. Talking to his roommate. Laughing, even, like you two knew each other. Like the universe had some sick sense of humour and decided to drop you into his life again when he least expected it.

He scrambled, nearly choking on his straw before yanking his earbuds out and hissing, “Suguru. Suguru.”

Suguru didn’t even glance up. “You’re not supposed to talk to me when I’m on shift.”

“I’ll Venmo you twenty bucks.”

“You still owe me thirty from last time.”

“Fine. Fifty. Just—who is that?”

Now Suguru looked up, eyes flicking over to where you stood at the register, wallet in hand. “Who? Her?”

“Yes, her. The girl with the nice hair and the resting bitch face… my bookstore girl.”

“Bookstore girl?”

Satoru groaned. “The one who you were just talking to.”

Recognition finally dawned on Suguru’s face. “Ohhh. You mean Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he echoed, the name rolling off his tongue like he’d been waiting to learn it his whole life. “Oh my god, Suguru, tell me everything.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my fate, obviously, and I need a way in.”

Suguru looked unimpressed. “You mean a way to flirt with her again even though she very clearly rejected you?”

“That was foreplay.”

“That was you being annoying.”

Satoru leaned forward, whispering like it was a matter of national security. “Does she come here often? Is she seeing anyone? What’s her major? What’s her coffee order? Do you think she likes sourdough?”

Suguru blinked slowly. “You are so unwell.”

“Suguru, please,” Satoru whined, clutching his iced coffee like it might soothe the ache of desperation in his chest.

Suguru didn’t even bother to hide the exhaustion in his voice as he wiped down the espresso machine. “Send me my fifty bucks, and I’ll tell you what you want to know when I’m on break.”

Satoru blinked. “That’s blackmail.”

“It’s backpay.”

He groaned but immediately reached for his phone, opening Venmo and aggressively typing in his information before sending the payment.

“Done,” he said, shoving the screen in Suguru’s face.

Suguru glanced at it, then shrugged. “Alright. I’m off in ten. If you’re still here and not dramatically passed out from yearning by then, I’ll spill.”

Satoru leaned back in his seat with a grin that could’ve lit the café. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You never do,” Suguru muttered under his breath.

Ten minutes had never felt longer, but eventually, Surguru sat in front of him, his own coffee in hand. He didn’t even bother with a greeting.

“She’s a bio major,” Suguru said flatly, taking a long sip from his drink. “Wants to be a dentist.”

Satoru blinked. “That’s so hot.”

Suguru sighed, already regretting this. “Of course it is.”

“I mean, come on, she’s smart and she might give me free Invisalign one day?”

“She wouldn’t touch your mouth with a ten-foot pole,” Suguru deadpanned. “She’s focused. Doesn’t party much anymore. Commutes from downtown. No time for idiots.”

Satoru’s grin faltered. “Wait, what do you mean anymore?” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “She used to party?”

Suguru smirked over the rim of his cup. “You asked for info. I didn’t say I’d give it all away for free.”

“Please, Suguru,” Satoru practically begged, lowering his voice and leaning over the table. “I’ll restock the mini fridge this week.”

Suguru didn’t even look up from his drink. “I’d rather not open it and find nothing but melted sugar cubes again.”

“That was one time.”

“It was three times.”

“Suguru.”

He sighed like the weight of Satoru’s desperation was physically exhausting. “Fine,” he muttered, glancing around before lowering his voice. “She used to. But she got caught by a cop in the middle of freshman year.”

Satoru’s eyebrows shot up. “Doing what?”

“Dunno the full story. Something about a bottle and the wrong parking lot. No charges, but she got real quiet after that. Keeps her head down now. Doubt she’d come out again.”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, mind already racing. “Damn.”

Suguru gave him a look. “Don’t get any bright ideas.”

“Too late.”

Satoru’s gone before Suguru even finishes his 10 minute break.

Second year rolls around, and Satoru’s carrying a massive duffel bag up the cracked pavement of his fraternity’s front steps, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the overcast sky. The house is already buzzing with the chaos of returning members—someone’s blasting music on the second floor, someone else is yelling about a missing tub of protein powder, and the front door keeps swinging open with the screech of badly-oiled hinges.

He pauses at the threshold, taking in the scent of old beer and whatever candle someone’s mom insisted on leaving behind.

This year, he’s not a freshman sleeping in storage in the basement. He’s got a real room this time, second floor, corner window, just enough space for a larger mini fridge and his questionable collection of graphic tees. He drops his bag with a dramatic sigh and stretches like he’s been through war, not a 15-minute Uber ride.

He had an idea. A stupid one, maybe. But Satoru Gojo wasn’t exactly known for subtlety.

If the girl wasn’t coming to him, he’d create a reason for her to show up.

So he pitched it—loudly, obnoxiously, and with a whiteboard diagram no one asked for—at the weekly frat meeting.

“A party to start the year,” he declared, slapping the side of the board like it was a car hood. “Biggest of the year. We invite everyone. First-years, second-years, even that weird kid who sells meth outside the math building.”

From the couch, Suguru raised a brow. “Is this about that girl again?”

Satoru didn’t even blink. “No.”

“It’s definitely about the girl,” Suguru muttered, lowly to him.

“I mean, yes,” Satoru admitted, flopping into the armchair. “But it’s also about unity and brotherhood and throwing an insanely sick party.”

No one questioned it, so within three days, the plans were set. DJ booked, lighting rig rented, flyers printed (badly), and kegs on order. The party would be held Friday night, the first real weekend back, perfect timing for people still running on syllabus week energy and free drinks.

The night of the party arrived like a storm.

The house rang with music, lights bouncing off the walls, the bass heavy enough to shake the picture frames in the hallway. Students spilled into the yard, red solo cups in hand, laughter echoing over the sound of cheap EDM and even cheaper vodka.

Satoru had made his rounds. He high-fived half the finance department, danced with someone from the cheer team, and even took a tequila shot with a professor who definitely should not have been there. But , now, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping water, eyes flicking to the door every time it opened.

Still no sign of you.

He wasn’t surprised, not really, but he still felt that tiny sting of disappointment settle under his skin, gnawing quietly.

“Why the long face, Gojo?” a voice purred beside him.

He glanced over. A girl in a too-tight crop top with too-red lipstick batted her lashes at him. She stepped closer, just enough that her perfume hit him in a wave.

“You’re not usually the brooding type,” she said, finger trailing along the hem of his shirt.

Satoru gave her a lopsided grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just waiting on someone.”

She tilted her head. “Well… I’m someone.”

He chuckled, soft but genuine. “Yeah, you are.”

She leaned in, clearly expecting him to meet her halfway, but he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back, lifting his water cup in mock cheers. “But I’m kinda holding out for a different someone tonight.”

The disappointment on her face was fleeting, quickly masked by a shrug as she wandered off toward the living room.

Satoru stayed there for a moment, alone with the distant thrum of music and his own stubborn hope.

Because you hadn’t come tonight. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t eventually, and he was willing to wait.

That was the beginning of the social event(s?) of the year.

Every second Friday of the month, Satoru Gojo threw the wildest, most chaotic, most talked-about parties on campus. There was always a theme—90s rave, ski lodge in spring, blue (he never explained that one)—and the house was always packed. Students from all majors, all years, would pile in through the doors, spill out onto the lawn, and stay until sunrise.

At some point, rumor had it a few of the older frat brothers tried to rename the kitchen The Lean Lab after an incident involving what guests thought was purple punch, three freshmen passed out on the back porch, and Suguru handing out electrolytes, still clad in a bonnet and a bathrobe. Satoru never denied the allegation. In fact, he seemed kind of proud.

But no matter how loud the music got or how many people screamed his name when he walked in, Satoru’s eyes always scanned the crowd for you.

He never said it out loud, but his friends knew. Suguru definitely knew. Shoko teased him about it constantly, usually while stealing sips from his cup.

“You know she’s not showing, right?” she’d say, halfway through the second party of the semester. “She’s probably at home doing flashcards and drinking chamomile tea.”

“Let me dream,” Satoru would grin, tossing back his drink anyway.

In January, Satoru saw you again.

He had made a rare, out-of-character decision to actually study for his upcoming tests, a choice motivated less by academic responsibility and more by sheer boredom. Wandering into the campus library, he scanned the rows of private study rooms without much hope…until he saw you.

There you were, seated alone in a glass-walled room, completely absorbed in your notes, highlighter uncapped, earbuds in. The same girl he hadn’t seen since that day at the bookstore. The one he’d lowkey, maybe even highkey, thrown multiple house parties for. 

His feet moved before his brain did.

He rapped his knuckles gently against the door, watching as you glanced up in mild confusion, one earbud popping out.

You blinked at him. “Can I help you?”

Satoru smiled, all charm and false innocence. “Hey. So… I’ve got a huge test coming up and apparently everyone and their mom decided to study today.” He tilted his head toward the other rooms, which were, admittedly, mostly full. “Yours is the only room with space. Mind if I join you? I’ll be quiet. I swear.”

You looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then your eyes flicked to the empty seats beside you.

“Fine,” you sigh, pushing the door open wider. “Just don’t talk.”

Satoru grins, slipping inside like he’s just gotten away with a heist. “Scout’s honor.”

You don’t look at him as he settles into the chair across from you. You just go back to your notes, highlighter in one hand, pen in the other. The silence stretches—ten seconds, then twenty. You can feel his eyes on you.

“Are you actually studying?” you mutter without looking up.

“Yup,” he says, cracking open a textbook that still has the price tag on it. “Absolutely.”

You glance up, just in time to catch him upside down trying to read the index. “You’re holding it upside down.”

“Right,” he nods solemnly, flipping it around. “That’s why I wasn’t learning anything.”

Despite yourself, a laugh pushes its way up your throat before you can stop it. You glance at him again, more curious now than annoyed.

“Do I know you?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

He leans back in his chair, tossing his pen onto the table with a smug little smile. “You might. I’m unforgettable.”

You roll your eyes and go back to your notes.

“Biochem?” he guesses, nodding toward your open binder.

“Yeah.”

“You wanna be a doctor?”

“Dentist,” you correct, automatic. Then, softer, “Hopefully.”

Satoru’s quiet for a second. “That’s really hot.”

You don’t respond. But this time, when you look up at him, your lips are twitching just slightly.

“You said you wouldn’t talk,” you mutter, shooting him a glare over your notes.

“Hey,” Satoru says, holding his hands up in mock defense. “You talked to me first.”

His eyes lock with yours, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The room is still, save for the distant hum of the lights and the muffled turning of pages from somewhere down the hall.

And even though you’re clearly annoyed, Satoru feels his heartbeat pick up, his mouth suddenly dry. There’s something about the way you look at him, like you’re trying to decide whether he’s worth the energy it takes to deal with him.

He kind of hopes you decide he is.

“I’ll be quiet,” he says again, voice softer this time, less cocky. “Promise.”

You narrow your eyes one last time before turning back to your notes.

“Thanks,” you murmur, scribbling something in the margins of your textbook.

Satoru doesn’t speak after that. But his eyes linger on you just a few seconds longer than they should. He gets up to leave an hour later, stuffing his untouched notes into his bag and already mentally rearranging his schedule. If he moved next week’s party up by a solid seven days, he’d have just enough time to plan something big. Something loud. Something that would, hopefully, catch your attention for more than an hour in a study room.

“Thanks,” he mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

You glance up from your notes and nod, more out of politeness than anything.

Satoru hesitates at the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he’s suddenly not sure if he should say what he’s about to.

“Um… if you’re interested,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, “my frat’s throwing a party on Friday. Alpha Beta Sigma house. You should come.”

You blink at him, eyebrows raised just enough to show surprise. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

He adds, “There’ll be music. Drinks. Free pizza?” Then, quickly, “No pressure.”

You don’t say anything right away, just look at him for a moment too long, like you’re trying to figure out if this is a setup.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally, voice unreadable.

Satoru smiles anyway, that lopsided, confident grin that’s gotten him in and out of trouble more times than he can count.

“I’ll save you a slice.”

And with that, he walks out, already pulling out his phone to text Suguru.

[Satoru]: partys on friday. need lights and sound set up. theme ideas???

Your typical Friday in your best friend’s dorm had taken a sharp turn from pizza and Netflix into something straight out of a high school coming-of-age movie. One second it was just the two of you, and the next, a swarm of girls had poured in, arms full of makeup bags and curling irons, shouting over each other about outfits and last-minute costume swaps.

To your dismay, your best friend had caught wind of Alpha Beta Sigma’s Great Gatsby-themed party, and ever since, it was all she could talk about. Apparently, the only way she wanted to ring in her 21st was by flouncing into a frat house full of plastic champagne flutes, men in suspenders, and gold streamers taped to the ceiling.

She'd even lent you a dress, something slinky and glittery that you wouldn’t have picked out yourself, and insisted you had no choice but to come. “You’re my emotional support introvert,” she said, grinning as she tugged a brush through your hair. “If I’m going to get blackout drunk and scream-sing Lana Del Rey on a stranger’s balcony, I want you beside me.”

You sighed, but didn’t fight her. You owed her at least that.

Still, you weren’t expecting to be nervous. Not until you caught sight of your reflection, makeup done and outfit clinging in all the right places.

It’s louder than you expected.

Bass-heavy music pulses through the floorboards, vibrating through your heels and the hem of your borrowed dress. Gold streamers flutter like dying stars in the hallway, and someone spills half a drink as they stumble past you, laughing like the world is ending and that’s the best news they’ve heard all week.

It takes you right back to your partying habits of freshman year. You know that you don’t belong here the moment you slip into the party and feel yourself retreat into the corners of the room, the ones not drenched in strobe lights or attention.

You're tucked into an armchair in what must’ve once been a living room, watching silhouettes dance in slow-motion through the haze of a fog machine someone thought was a good idea. You sip flat soda from a red plastic cup. You told your friend you’d be fine alone for a while—and honestly, you meant it.

That is, until you hear his voice.

“You know,” Satoru says, appearing like some careless daydream beside you. “I think this party was missing something until now.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Me?”

“Exactly,” he says with a grin. “You get it.”

You roll your eyes.

He doesn’t sit too close, but he does sit beside you, shoulders angled just slightly toward yours.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he says after a beat, voice quieter now, soft in a way that cuts through the music like it’s meant just for you.

You shrug. “My best friend dragged me.”

“Good friend,” he murmurs. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You glance at him sideways, the smoke from a fog machine catching in your lashes. “You don’t even know me.”

He smiles, slow and honest. “Not yet. But I’ve been hoping to.”

That makes your stomach flutter, annoyingly so. You look away, focusing instead on the rim of your cup. “You’ve got, what, half the school in your DMs? You sure it’s me you’re hoping to get to know?”

“I’m not interested in half the school,” he says, not missing a beat. “I’m interested in you.”

You continue to glare at him. 

“I’m interested in the girl who told me to shut up in the bookstore like I wasn’t the most charming guy on campus.”

You snort. “You were being loud.”

“You were being cute.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re finally talking to me,” he says, voice dipping low with something fond behind it. “So, impossible’s working out for me so far.”

You meet his gaze this time, steady. “You always flirt like this?”

He tilts his head, considering. “Only when I really mean it.”

You go quiet at that. Not because it’s awkward, but because you feel the tension shift, slightly deeper, slightly heavier.

Satoru notices too. He leans back in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, knees brushing yours. “So… what do you actually like doing? When you’re not running from frat parties and causing lost boys to fail their exams.”

You smile at that. “Stuff that doesn’t involve basslines that make my brain rattle.”

He pretends to gasp. “So you’re telling me this isn’t your scene?”

“You’re surprised?”

He shrugs. “A little. Thought maybe you were just elusive.”

“Try allergic.”

“Gotcha,” he says, his smile soft now. “So next time, I’ll skip the party and ask you somewhere quieter.”

Your heart skips once. “Next time?”

“Yeah,” he says simply. “If there’s a chance for one.”

You’re quiet again, but you don’t look away this time.

“…I’ll think about it.”

“You, know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says suddenly, before you can respond. “Since I first met you.”

You glance at him, surprised, and he laughs under his breath.

“I don’t know. There was something about it. About you. I didn’t think it’d stick with me, but it did.”

A part of you wants to ask if this is just more of his usual lines, but something about the way he’s looking at you—less like a dare, more like a confession—stops you.

“Is that why you keep throwing these parties?” you ask, half-teasingly.

He pauses, smile turning sheepish. “Kind of.”

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You both sit in silence for a second. Satoru’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing. 

“I don’t really do that. Think, I mean. About anyone. Not like that. And I kept thinking I’d just see you again eventually if I kept showing up, if I kept being loud enough or... visible enough.”

You stay quiet, watching him. The party hums on in the distance, but it’s quiet here. Just him and you and the truth beginning to unravel.

“But then I started wondering about you. Like, what kind of music do you listen to when you’re sad? Or if you have a weird food combination you eat when you’re stressed. I want to know if you read the backs of shampoo bottles in the shower or if you sing with your whole chest when you’re alone in the car. I want to know what your laugh sounds like when you really mean it. What kind of drunk you are. If you’ve ever broken a bone. What your childhood best friend’s name was.”

He leans forward a little, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “And it stopped being about getting your number or proving anything. I just—I started caring. About you. About the kind of day you’ve had. About whether you ever felt alone even in a room full of people.”

You blink, caught off guard by the honesty. He shrugs, eyes flicking to the cup in your hand before returning to yours.

“I guess I just wanted a chance. To know you. And I get that maybe that’s weird, or a lot, but I’m not really good at pretending I don’t want things when I want them. And you? You’re the first thing I’ve wanted in a long time that isn’t temporary.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs, more to himself than anything.

“God, I sound insane. Like a rom-com stalker. But I swear, I’m not. I just… really, really like you.”

You look at him fully now, really look, and you see the way his leg bounces just slightly, the way his hand flexes around his own cup. He’s nervous. Gojo Satoru is actually nervous.

His voice dips, softer now, less performative.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention,” he says quietly. “And I thought—maybe tonight, I finally would.”

The music shifts to something slower, a synth-drenched beat washing over the room like a lull in a storm. Someone’s laughing down the hall. You swear the whole world softens for a moment.

“So?” he asks, voice low. “Can I take you out sometime? Like, actually out. No frat houses. Just me and you.”

You’re quiet for a moment, watching him.

Then: “Okay,” you say.

His grin grows, eyes lighting up in a way that makes your chest flutter.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “But only if you actually study next time you’re in the library.”

“Deal,” he laughs. “Swear on my GPA.”

Six months later, you roll over in your bed, expecting the cool brush of your sheets against bare skin, only to be met with warmth.

Your cheek presses lightly against Satoru’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat the first sound you register as sleep slips from your body. His arm is already around you, tightening slightly at your movement, like even in sleep he can sense you trying to leave.

You let out a small sigh, content, and burrow closer.

“You’re awake?” he murmurs, voice gravelly and still thick with sleep.

“Barely,” you whisper.

He hums, the sound vibrating beneath your ear. “Good. Stay.”

You smile against his skin, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along the curve of his ribcage. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Mm,” he mumbles, one eye cracked open now. “Didn’t dream about anyone else, right?”

You snort. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Whatever,” he says, half-asleep. “I love you.”

You glance up at him, his snowy lashes fluttering as he begins to open his eyes.

“I’ll allow it,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his chest. He tugs you in tighter, his arms sliding lower over the curves of your bare body until there’s no space left between you. His breath grazes the top of your head as he murmurs, half-lost in the haze of sleep and morning light,.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The quiet admission makes your heart skip. You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze.

You blink slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m the one who should be saying that,” you whisper.

Satoru huffs a laugh but doesn’t let go, fingers tracing lazy patterns down your spine. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I’ve had dreams like this before.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “They’ve never felt this good.”

“Whatever you say, Satoru,” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just hums, his chin resting on top of your head, arms still wrapped around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.

It hits you then, how much he’s changed.

Six months ago, Friday nights meant house parties that started with cheap drinks and ended in chaos. A different girl on his arm every week. His name always floating in the air, always said with a giggle or an eye roll. But now?

Now Friday nights mean falling asleep tangled in your limbs, shared takeout containers, and quiet conversations over shows neither of you finish because you’re too busy listening to each other. His phone is always face down. His texts are fewer but more thoughtful. And when someone brings up the next frat party, he waves them off with a shrug, saying he’s already got plans.

Plans that usually involve you, a hoodie that probably used to be his, and a quiet night at home.

Still, it’s hard to resist teasing him, especially when his past is so easy to poke fun at.

“So,” you whisper, cupping his face with both hands, thumbs brushing the corners of his mouth, “what’s the theme of tonight’s party?”

He groans softly, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, you know I only threw those parties for you.”

You snort. “Sure you did.”

pls do not copy, repost, or claim my work as your own :) if you have any issues with what i wrote or noticed any mistakes, let me know privately. thank you for reading <3

[tinytennisskirt]

dad!art anon here ill do this emoji 🫧<3

i was thinking maybe art and reader are trying for their first baby and maybe they just for married and he’s sooo inlove and readers so inlove something cute love uuuuu

A Married Thing:

summary: art donaldson wants one thing for the rest of his life and that’s you. he made that clear when he proposed, then when he married you, and makes it very clear that he wants you and maybe a little you… for the rest of his life- when it’s finally just you and him after a long day of wedding activities.

warnings: smuttttttttt, art being reverent and devotional, slight breeding kink from art, talk of pregnancy, etc.

Art takes a second to let it all settle in. It’s so much; he has to run a hand over his face to try to ground himself and remember that this is real. This is his life. You are his life, and with that ring on your finger, you’re the rest of it too. The second the officiant says he can kiss you, he does with so much of himself. He kisses you like he means it, like his foot is down, like you just bought the grave plot next to his. His hands wrap around your waist while yours wrap around his neck, a kiss so close to an embrace, everyone who sees it can feel how much he loves you.  

He’s as thrilled for where things will lead you as he was on your first date. He talked a big game while you were dating, all the typical promises a man makes to marry you, to give you a good life, except Art meant every single one. You had every reason to doubt him at first, love is love and men are men, but Art knew he loved you very early on and didn’t stop trying to show it, not once. 

So when he put his grandmother’s ring on your finger, he figured this was all he ever wanted. He couldn’t imagine loving or having you more, but of course, marriage was still to come- impossible, maybe. His heart might explode. And you kissed him, hard, crying the same tears he was. Some luck had found him, he thought.

 And luckier, you can imagine a ring on the finger, a few glasses of wine- it was a sure thing that he loved you. Right there, on the couch where he’d gotten on his knees, reverent to your ‘yes’, and the fact that soon you’d be his wife. You tasted like his fiancée now. 

So he kisses you at that altar like he means it, his mother loudly crying tears of joy. You pull away and you laugh and he sighs like his knees might give out. “Are you okay?” You ask, hand on his chest, smiling the smile he fell in love with before he even knew your name. He nods, and unexpectedly, kisses you again, eliciting a second, even louder cheer from family and friends, this cheer spotted brightly with laughter. 

The reception is lovely, family everywhere, friends drinking and talking and celebrating. The speeches make you cry, and Art himself is having a hard time trying to fathom that any of this is his. His family, his new, bigger family, is wonderful and inspiring. The room is thick with appreciation, love, and sentiment.  These people are here, and despite a wedding, they aren’t even close to understanding how much he loves you. 

 He listens to his mom give her speech, talking about you like the angel that you are- and that breaks him open, just a little. “Hope it’s not too soon to say,” his mother starts to sign off, “But a grandbaby or two wouldn’t be too bad while I’m still in my prime.” She does a little shimmy, laughing loudly, tapping the side of her nose at him.

His heart surges just a little at the thought. It’s been talked about, but it’s your hand finding his under the table at the joke that really gets him. It’s like he’s been turned into a teenager again, the way his ears pink. The idea of a life with you after this stepping stone hits him like a freight train every time he remembers it’s real, over and over again, all of its beauty, all of it being completely within reach. He steals you away for a dance the second he can. 

“Married,” you say, like you’re tasting it. “Mrs. Donaldson.” 

It’s like music. He can’t help but grin. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” you smile, and he swears it’s brighter than any light in the room. His eyes wander your face like it’s the first time, like it’s all unknown, and he’s mapping it out. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I love you,” he repeats, like he’s lost. Eyebrows knit. “You’re beautiful.” It’s real, he knows it, but so many other things begin to seep through the cracks. And just as his mother ‘wouldn’t mind a grandbaby’, he finds himself lost in the fact that he wouldn’t mind a daughter, especially if she ends up as beautiful as you are. 

You bite your lip and mouth ‘thank you’, under your breath.  

“I was- am, thinking about what my mom said.” He admits. “That maybe not now, but soon…”

“Mmm, yeah,” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, your nose brushes his. “You want a little tennis player, hm?” 

He tugs you in by your waist, unable to hide the grin that blooms from ear to ear. The after-party dress is silk under his fingers. He wonders how easily it might slip off… “Hey- whatever she wants to get involved in,” 

“She?” You giggle and kiss him into it. “I love you so, so much. I want this too.” You assure him, swallowing. Your eyes dart like they do when you’re shy, “But sooner than soon…” 

He lowers his voice, and it’s a little funny how his smile goes completely serious, “Now?” And his smile still breaks through, like he can’t suppress it. 

You laugh, leaning into his shoulder. His hand instinctively finds the back of your head, laughing with you. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world. God, he loves you so much. The smallest things, like your laugh, remind him of the decades ahead of him that he gets to listen to it. For now, it’d echo around your apartment, but soon a house, a home. He knows he’s the luckiest man alive, still yet to find himself luckier. 

“Later than now, sooner than… Sorry,” you giggle, meeting his eyes. “I… want you. I want that. For us, our… future. But later.” 

“I have to wait?” He chuckles in return, “After you say something like that?” 

Your smile pulls up at the corner like a smirk, he feels like he just lost all his breath. Your eyes twinkle. He’s hard, he knows that, so do you. “Mhm,” you nod slowly, looking quite satisfied with his reaction, almost smug. “Soon. Later.”

“You’re cruel,” he kisses you, once, twice. You kiss him the third time, holding him as close as you can. His skin feels hot, sparked, and it hits him all over again. 

By the time everyone is gone to their hotel rooms, you and Art are both beyond tired. The perks of such a friendly family are great, except for when their energy keeps going well into the night. You, in that pretty white dress, silky- that seems to ask to fall off your body, the way the sleeve droops down your shoulder. He admits he’s reasonably buzzed off that good red wine, the same as you, but just enough to feel the lust settle in like love itself, in his throat, his chest, his hands. 

Your shoes are already in your hands, the white ribbon that wrapped up your calves is draped over your arm, and you lean, tired, against him in the elevator, cheek pressed to his dress shirt. A lifetime of being yours to lean on makes him smile. He kisses the top of your head, just casually, as if it’s just the small gesture it seems to be, and not the vessel of all of his restraint. 

“Art,” you say, from under his chin. Soft, to get his attention. His eyes meet yours as the elevator dings its arrival to the honeymoon suite. He looks up at it, taking in how it’s decorated gently in pretty pinks and oranges, noting the large, circular bed complete with draping curtains in the corner. The dim lamp lighting casts that orange and pink light over you, in that dress, looking at him like he owes you something. And he does, he always will, for you loving him the way you do. You blink softly, almost nervously, and he catches it. Your promise of later is more haunting than it had been the entire rest of the reception. He couldn’t get it out of his head, the idea, the dream so close in reach- you, a family, that you wanted it and soon. Now. 

He wonders if you taste like his wife, but he just swallows, hard. “I love you so much, I can’t believe I married you.” 

“Us, married. I love you, too,” you sigh, breathing the words out like they have weight. “So much. And I’m not… forward in… wanting a baby?” You giggle like it’s the silliest thing. It sort of is, but isn’t, not the way he’s thinking. 

His heart jumps at the word like he hasn’t spent his entire life fantasizing about the night he fucks you with that intention. Gently, his hands find your waist, and he pulls you by it gently into the suite. The doors close, blending into the wall now. “You have no idea,” he says, low, face close to yours, causing a tired smile to climb your expression. His hand cups your face, your jaw, as he leans down to kiss your neck, the gentlest he possibly can. He feels how it makes you shiver, “I want you. I want a baby, I want a family.”

“We’re still house-hunting,” You reason with a tilt of your head, his arms slipping around you with the ease of that white silk. His fingertips brush the backs of your arms, and he swears he can’t tell where you start and the fabric ends. He knows your words are just to prompt him. 

“We’ll find a house,” he mumbles into your neck, kissing higher, hand moving your hair to kiss up toward your ear. Your hands grip the front of his dress shirt in a way that gets him harder than he already is. The smallest little things you do, so incredibly beautifully, as simple as your hands bracing against the way his kiss feels, it’s more intoxicating than any red wine buzz. “Somewhere pretty, near some good schools…” He continues, kissing your ear itself. The sensation sends a wave of pinpricks down your entire body, causing you to hold him tighter. “- I want this. I love you.” He can’t say it enough. 

“I love you, too,” you manage, breathily. He pulls away from your neck, a smile on his face that strikes you as a man ruined and completely, entirely, in love. His hands cup your face, the lightest touch imaginable, in a way that makes you feel it in your bones. That love. His reverence. “I need you. Now. Please.” You tell him, under his gaze. He lets out a breath that comes out just the slightest bit shaky, making you smile again. There isn’t a better response than kissing you. 

It’s not an urgent kiss, there’s no rush. It’s late, you’re both a little tiny bit wine drunk, and he is a man starved. He kisses you gently, but with the force of all of his passions. He’s never loved anyone or anything more than he loves you, and he kisses you like those words are on his tongue. His hand finds your jaw, tilting your head back to kiss you, lips parting to allow as much as possible, while his other hand subconsciously gathers silk off of your waist, hips, ass. He’s done this a million times, but this feels differently charged and new. His heart pounds like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. 

“I’m going to have your baby,” you giggle, even in a kiss as serious as this one. It’s why he loves you. The words have more power than you think- Art hoists you up into his arms, and in a second, your back is pressed to the bed's dark pink Egyptian cotton sheets. Something in the phrase fuels him, he knows that- you know that. “I want it so badly.” 

Art kisses down your jaw, your neck, collarbone, hands still under you, travelling the places the silk borders on skin. Your fingers tangle in his hair. You smell like home and faintly of the bouquet that rested against your chest all afternoon. His hand finds yours, holding it gently, closer to a cradle than a hold. And he brought it to his lips, lifting his head from kissing your collarbone to kiss the ring on your finger. Lips brushing skin so slightly, somehow, even that touch sent another sheet of goosebumps over your skin. “I want it-” he starts, kissing your knuckles, then your fingertips, before meeting your eyes, “So much more than you know.” 

“Mhm?” You prompt him again. Cheeky. He can’t help but grin, kissing down toward the shoulder of your dress. That slow, soft hand of his comes up, and slowly, his pointer finger rims the left shoulder of your dress, gently pulling down. “You think about it?” You ask, a little breathy. 

“All the time,” he admits, voice thick with devotion and focus, his other hand coming to slip the other strap of your dress down your arm. “You’d never leave bed…” He kisses your shoulder. “I’d take care of you, every ache, every craving… You’ll be so, so gorgeous, carrying something made of us both. I can’t even think about it too much, I’ll go crazy.” 

You chuckle, keeping composed though your skin burns at his every word, “I’d like to see it.” And you pull him by his shirt into another kiss. Slow, wide, generous. He can’t help but feel complete every time your mouth meets his. Every kiss in return from him is made of sugar, wine, and gratitude. You push, sitting up, the front of your dress falling like a feather in the air, revealing everything you had hidden, waiting for him. He pulls away, forehead resting against yours, laughing under his breath, almost like he can’t believe all of it is for him. Lacy white, balconette, his. And he kisses you like he means it. 

You end up standing again, just for a few moments, the dress falling from where it gathered at your waist to land soundlessly on the floor. He cups your face, your back pressing to the bedpost. He hasn’t even let himself see you in all of this yet; he can’t, or he risks getting ahead of himself. “Art-” you say, between kisses. “I need you.” 

“I need you,” he returns in the same pause, kissing you again. “Need you-”

“You have me, all of me, I- ” You giggle, pulling away. It gets him harder, almost painfully, in his dress pants. He meets your eyes in the warm light of the room. He chuckles with you. “You have all of me…” You continue, hands slipping around his neck. He lets his eyes wander down your frame, eyeing all of the lingerie that will only ever be for his eyes. He looks at you like he found religion. “Forever.” 

“You’re-” he chokes. “Perfect. I love you. I want you. I need you.” His knuckles gently skim your collarbone, then the curve of your breast, the side of your arm, your waist, his eyes following as his other hand meets the other at your hip. Your chest rises and falls, heavy with each breath. The air is full of trust that you both inhale like a drug. He can see his future reflected in your every feature. Your giggle at his soft words, hoping to be copied into something equally yours and his. “Can you imagine it?” He asks you. 

Your smile makes him want to fall to his knees. “You’ll be such a good dad…” 

His grin is from ear to ear, voice hushed,  “And you’ll be the best mom. God, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I want to give you everything, all of it, all of me.  I…” Your fingers start on his buttons, quickly undoing every one as if you’re just as eager as he is. Everything you do takes him out. 

“What happens if I start wanting ice cream at 2 am?” You tease, almost. Another prompt he’s happy to speak about. 

“Then I go find some,” he replies, lost in you. “You’ll share?” 

“Always. What about tennis?” 

“Hiatus, play locally,” he replies without even pausing a beat, your fingers on the last few buttons. He swallows hard, like his throat is dry. He sways closer to you, he can’t help it. His nose grazes yours, eyes flickering from your eyes to your body, all the lace waiting to be thrown across the room. 

You draw out the act of pulling his shirt off, slowly opening the front, taking his wrists in your hands to undo his cuffs. You tsk, cheeks pink, “What about when I end up… huge and swollen and sore? When I can’t get upstairs or reach around myself, hm?” You pull him just a little closer, knowing the impact of your words. His ears match your cheeks, and his lips part just a little, a small breath slipping out. The shirt falls off his shoulders and meets your dress on the floor. You’re already on the buttons of his pants, not even looking. Eyes on him to study that lust-clouded gaze he’s dripping onto you. “What about then?” 

“You-” you’re making him nervous. Only you could unravel him this way. He breathes out hard, hands on you, moving, sliding, just trying to touch you the most he can. “I would do anything to see you like that,” he replies. “All the evidence of us under your shirt, knowing I did that, we did that. I want to watch the changes happen, see you grow with our baby.” 

“Our,” you repeat, because it sounds beautiful, and you aren’t sure how to function when you want him this badly.

“You’ll be so gorgeous, even more so- I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.” Your hand finds him down the front of his pants, and he hums into your mouth. “Hey-” He catches, cupping your jaw again. He kisses your nose before he kisses you again full force, his hips pinning you to the bedpost, pressing against you. And almost like it’s funny that he isn’t fucking you, he picks you up off the ground, one hand on your waist, the other under you, both of you laughing breathily. He kisses you, head tilted back, as you get pressed back into the bed. 

You crawl backward, pushing yourself back against the pillows, eyes bright, eager, hungry. He follows, letting you tug his pants the rest of the way off. He’s hard, still quite painfully, even without the pants. He crawls over you, kissing you into the pillows. Despite all the heat of the moment it’s soft, like each kiss has effort put into it. Hands travel each other like it’s all new, and it is. It’ll be the first time he gets to have sex with his wife. He loves the thought, he loves the sound of the word. 

He kisses back over your ear, jaw, neck, and collarbone, trailing tiny bites all the way down. His mouth kisses lower until it meets the top of your breast, right above where it matters, which is half an inch hidden under the lace that adorns you, decorates you. He can’t get over this, you, your body, what it does for him, does to him, and will soon be doing for your future. “I want to fuck you so badly,” he mumbles, his hold on you tight as he continues lower, down your body. He likes that he can feel your skin so affected by his touch, loves the small gasp that comes from you when he kisses your stomach. The top, just under the wire of the pretty little bra that one of his hands was unhooking, then the middle of your stomach, “You’re meant for this.” He tells you, worshipful in the way he looks at you. “I want to give you this.” 

“Please do,” you smile, then breathe out. He lowers himself, chest resting on the bed between your legs, as he kisses your lower stomach, where the lacy bottom part of the set begins. He then kisses your hip, where the waistband sits, then your thigh, taking all of his time, but he can feel your restraint as he gets closer to where you need him. “Please.” You follow. 

He does what he’s told, but gentler than wanted, a nudge with his nose, through the fabric. He’s done this so many times, he’s spot on. Your thighs squeeze just gently, and he shuts his eyes under the pressure of it, trying not to press himself into the bed too much. “Art…” 

“I know,” he replies quietly. But he pulls himself away, that cheeky grin on his face. “One thing first.” He says, propping himself up just enough to kiss your thigh again, right below the garter. You giggle from above him on the bed, disbelieving that he paused things just for this… His teeth graze your skin on purpose when he pulls it gently down… over your knee, over your calf, and off your foot. The first of three items to be thrown far out of reach. 

You nearly gasp at just the sight. His body is contoured by the shadows from the dim lamp, he’s still so hard, the front of his boxers just a little wet from everything that had already happened. Your bra comes off and gets thrown as well. He chuckles, crawling right back to where you want him, except this time, he doesn’t tease or kiss anywhere but exactly where you want him. Through the fabric. 

“You’re so-“ his tongue pushes against the fabric, words humming against your clit. “Wet. My god.” Hands reach up and pull at the sides of your underwear, getting it gone, down. You raise your hips, but he doesn’t even take it all the way off. He pulls them as much as he can before he’s between your legs again. Your legs go over his shoulders, kicking the lingerie to the other far corner as your hips involuntarily press up toward his mouth. You taste like his wife, and it’s his favourite thing in the world. 

He could genuinely live between your legs, always hungry, starved even. His tongue works, flicks, drags, pushes, while he sucks just gently enough to elicit the first real moan of the night from you. Broken, slow, low, breathy, for him. He knows just what to do- it’s often that you have to try not to finish under his mouth. He wants more, he tries for more, thinking about what he’s about to do. Thinking about the difference he is about to make. 

Art moans against your cunt, unable to help himself at how your muscles contract around his tongue, at how you taste, how it feels to lick from your base to your clit and back again. Your fingers tangle themselves deep in his blonde curls, tinted pink by the light that reflects off the sheets. He is suddenly struck harder by that freight train of reality and emotion. You feel like a drug, warming his body through the blood in his system. 

The want comes crashing, dizzying, burning hotter and brighter than before. Suddenly, the need to be inside you washes overwhelmingly over him. He wants more. Not just to taste, but to have, to bring close, to come into. He knows the feeling is mutual, through some insane connection-or maybe it was just what happened when you got married-because you mumbled his name almost incoherently the millisecond before he pulled himself away from you. 

He uses the discarded dress shirt to wipe his mouth before he crawls over you again to kiss you, almost desperately. Still, rushless, more like neither of you could handle waiting. Your hands tug at his boxers with one hand, one immediately gripping him the second he’s freed of them. He groans quietly. As a joke, you toss them all the way across the room, making him laugh as he kisses you again. Your legs are parted, he’s over you, you’re under him. He can feel the heat radiating between you as you give him that loving little nod. “I need you. Deep, okay? I need it, I need that, I want your baby, I want-” you mumble, words falling out. 

“I don’t want to be-” he lines himself up, “-anywhere else.” He breathes. Your lips are centimetres apart, breathing each other’s air. His hand braces your hip, upper thigh, as he slowly pushes into you, feeling your body give way to his shape and stretch so perfectly around him. He holds his breath, and you gasp. He goes so slowly, your nails are already digging into his back. Your muscles push him, squeeze him, he can’t help but groan lightly. “You feel so good-” 

“Fuck, Art,” you sigh. His name sounds like a symphony when you say it, so out of breath. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” He says, ruined, not even buried to the hilt. “S-So much. My- god- my wife, my pretty-” he kisses you just as his hips meet yours. You gasp, he feels the air cold on his lips, then the heat of your exhale. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t give you much of a chance to say more, pulling himself just slightly out, then slowly sinking back in. Usually, off wine, he wouldn’t feel this much, but his senses seem to be high. He can feel every inch of you lining him, can feel every little twinge of pleasure that comes from getting so deeply inside of you. He can’t stop thinking about you, pregnant and perfect, all his fault. He’s practicing control, fucking you so slowly the way he is. 

The way he moves is with worship. His hands lift the crook of your waist, your hips, letting him rotate them. He reads your body language like it’s the bible, leaning into every little thing that makes you moan. The lift, the angle, the slow squeeze of his hand at the flesh of your thigh, your chest, your stomach. He’s memorizing all of the ‘before’ because he knows how this ends. Slowly, he picks up pace, though every thrust is just as deep as the last, hips meeting yours every time. The sound is graphic, he knows how wet you can get, but he’s never heard it this loud, this wet, and the reminder that this sound is his for life only makes him fuck you harder. 

“I can’t- god, you’re perfect,” he groans over your lips. They’re wet from kissing. “I can’t stop thinking about it-” he breathes. “You, full with our daughter. Every change, every want, every need, I want to give- I want to give you  everything.”

“God-” you try to smile or laugh or quip again about the fact he keeps insisting the unconceived baby is a girl, but only a moan makes it out of your mouth. A moan and a quiet smile, which of course, drives him crazy. You sigh, “I’m yours. Yours to have-” you can’t finish your sentence, silenced by your own moans. You swear he’s doing it on purpose. 

“Tell me what you need.” 

“I can’t-” he already knows. “Fuck, harder? Faster? I just want you to put a baby in me, it feels so good- it’s not fair.” You tell him, words continuing to spill off your tongue. You kiss him between breaths, messy, but still perfect. The impact of him hitting the top of you is dizzying. The perfect pace, pushing, pumping as you squeeze around him. His hands grip you harder, but still manage to be closer to an embrace than a handhold. 

He’s happy to oblige and fuck you the way you need. He would do anything for you, all of this, even if it took him hours. He goes harder, faster, and your hand leaves his hair to grab the headboard behind you. He moans loudly, unable to control any part of this anymore. It’s like sense takes over and your bodies tangle, but your souls are having their own sex. He continues to watch you, looking down at where he can see himself disappear into your cunt. So wet, so smooth, warm, tight. “You’re-” he huffs, “Godsent. I love you more than anything, fuck, you feel so good, I’m close-” 

“I need you to come in me,” you blurt, desperate. He’s never felt an orgasm knot in his stomach like it was already happening, yet pending. You feel like home, you feel like the future home of his children. “Fuck me, just fuck me, I want it so badly, Art. I want to make you a-” you’re going to say father, dad, or anything, but he’s too quick to follow your instructions, both hands on your hips now, lifting them to fuck into you. All of his muscles are tensed, showing their definition, so gorgeous already glinting with a slight sweat that was bound to get worse as the night went on. He had no plans of this being the only round tonight, and neither did you; you were newlyweds, after all. 

His breathing gets heavy, low, and your eyes roll back the way they do when he knows he’s doing something right. You tighten around him every thrust like you’re going to take all of it from him. It’s a mess, a scene, a sight, the way he groans and whines when you pull his hair. He can barely handle how you feel on a regular night, but with all of this love in the air, all of these promises, it all hit a lot harder. Gracious and in love, he supports your body as he fucks you with all of this intention. His fingers trail your stomach and dip down between. 

Art finds your clit like it’s the easiest action in the world and knows exactly how to touch you so that the sense of his finger mixes with the impact of his length to your cervix. You’re a mess, the way he loves you, hair messy and lips shiny, body shaking under his touch. You are his entire life, shaking underneath him, begging to carry his and your future in you, and best believe, he will make sure that any baby he makes with you will be made with the labour of both his climax and yours. Little circles, building the pleasure in your core to an undeniable point. “I-” you’re so pretty, unable to speak, only moan, sigh, and breathe. “Please.” And beg. 

“I’m so close,” he repeats, voice climbing with warning, thrusts not faltering, but pressing deeper with every thrust. There’s a pinch in your lower stomach, and like he reads your mind, he takes your weight under his knee, doesn’t stop fucking you for one second, and presses his other hand to your lower stomach. Your orgasm winds up like something ready to spring,  like it might split you in two, constant, humming pleasure. The impact, the gentle circles on your clit, the press. You hold onto him like he can save you from what he’s doing. He grins, bending to kiss the closest place to your face, your chest. The angle kills him, you’re tighter this way, and he feels himself speeding toward the edge. “I need you to come for me,” he says quietly. “For me.” 

You can barely breathe or think, but your body feels like it’s about to break. “I can’t. I’m trying- ”

“You can- God, you can, I need you to, please,” his tone is almost a whine, so breathless. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours, don’t stop,” you plead, and it takes all he has in him not to finish right then. “God, Art, don’t stop, I need you, I need you to come inside me, please, please, please.” Your string of desperate words continues to keep him breathless. 

“I am- I will, I need you to come on me, for me,” he returns. “You’re so beautiful, you feel so good, I love you.” His own string of desperation falls from his lips. His orgasm rises through his entire body, pending, waiting for the crash. It feels like waiting for the ocean to fall on your head and wipe you away. You, you’re convinced your body just can’t take this much pleasure. “You can do this, feel this, I need you-to-” He’s losing to himself, leaking inside of you already, almost. He’s at the sharpest edge he’s ever met. He pushes just slightly more, he speeds up his fingers, and he feels your orgasm begin to unravel inside of you, your muscles tightening suddenly. He feels himself about to spill over. He breathes out hard, feeling your resistance against his length, sucking him in, almost, taking him so well the way you always do. The way he always tells you, you do. “I’m-”

He feels it, all of it, as it comes over you. Your entire body writhes like you can’t take it, like it’s too much to bear. Your moans come falling like collected breaths, shaky, harsh, broken. He can feel the flood as your release is met, and he wants more than anything to feel it, how wet you are, how you shake, and pay close attention to every detail, but you get impossibly tight, and he can’t stop now to sit and admire. Just as it breaks in you, he can’t keep himself from what he wants, what he needs. “Oh fuck- I’m coming, I’m-” he chokes himself out with a groan, thrusts not faltering once as he gets thrown off that very edge. His body tenses, his cock coiling itself, then with that final kick, spilling into you. Pouring into you. And it was only then that he slowed to a stop, all the way inside of you. 

The orgasm lasted much longer than either of you anticipated. It hits him, hits him more, and desperately, messily, you kiss him, full on.  It takes twenty seconds for him to finally let his muscles relax, completely finished. Your hips squirm, orgasm unfinished- you’re flooding the bed with a mixture of yourself and him. He whispers soft words, reassurance, and devotional praise as he watches your pleasure span ten seconds more than his. Neither you nor him were aware that it could even happen, but neither of you would ever complain. Maybe it’s a married thing. 

You taste like the rest of his life, and you look like a woman ruined. Art, on the other hand, looks destroyed. He stays that way, lying with you, while your hands tangle in his hair again, gentler this time. Your chest is rising and falling, high, low. His fingers trace patterns on the bare skin of your stomach. Neither of you speaks for three minutes, just laying connected, blissed out, completely gone. “I love you so much,” he breaks the silence. 

“I love you more,” you tell him. “That was-” 

“So-”

“Mhm,” you sighed happily. “Round two soon?” You joke. You’re perfect. 

He laughs his hearty, loud laugh, “Of course.” And he pulls out, cleaning you up a little, then himself, before coming to crawl back over you again. He plants a kiss on your stomach before finding a place in the crook of your neck. Both of you still have your breaths to catch. “I can hardly wait-” 

It only takes about ten months of waiting before Art meets his daughter. She’s small, sweet, beautiful, like you. She has your eyes, your smile. He sees himself reflected in her eyes and knows this is it. He sits next to you in the hospital bed, his own face tear-streaked, matching yours.  This is all real, all perfect, all he’s ever wanted, all in one place. 

- - - -

i haven’t posted anything like this in soooo long you need to forgive me for losing my taglist! if you’d like to be a part of it, never be afraid to comment to be added!

[anime-in-new-albion]

The Love You Burn For ~ Leona Kingscholar

Summary: Leona is allowed to marry whomever he wants. And he wants to marry you.

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 928

Warning: Leona is OOC but I don't care

Masterlist

It wasn’t like him to be this nervous. Yet Leona found himself pacing around his room, clutching at his hair every so often. His bottom lip was becoming raw from how much he was biting it with his sharp teeth. Every couple of seconds he would check the gilded clock on the wall, wondering to himself why she must always be so late.

Right when he was about to call for Ruggie to go and fetch her, the door swung open and she tumbled in. He paused, bewildered to see her, which he shouldn't be. He asked her to meet him in his room twenty minutes ago. However every time he saw her, it always felt like the first time he was experiencing true beauty. Despite her disheveled appearance and rather rumpled clothes, she was still the most beautiful girl in the entire world to him. It was because of that and the fact that she was so charming and intelligent beyond her years that made him fall so irrevocably in love with her. 

And it scared him to death. However, he told himself he wouldn't let his fear of how much he loved her get in the way of this moment. This was going to happen, no matter what.

“You needed to see me, Leona?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

Just as he suspected would happen, and what Ruggie teased him about when he mentioned his plan, Leona found his words caught in his throat. He fumbled with what to say but he didn't let his nerves show. He would not show her how much she unnerved him. "Yes, I did, yes.”

She nodded. “And the reason is…?”

“You see, the thing is...” And his brain went blank. Why was he trying so hard to find the right words? Couldn’t she see what he wanted to tell her and what was on his mind? Couldn’t she spare him the trouble of putting his thoughts into words and just answer his unspoken question?

Smiling her dazzling smile, she took his slightly sweaty hands in hers and he felt his breath catch despite himself. “It’s okay, Leona. Take all the time you need.”

“I want to marry you.”

Well that was less eloquent than what he was hoping for.

In the grand scheme of things, he didn’t even need to propose to her. As the second prince of Sunset Savanna, Leona could marry whichever noble he preferred, whether within their borders or in worlds beyond, no questions asked. But ever since this frumpy, clumsy, stunning baroness from his realm stumbled into his birthday ball years ago, he knew he wanted to be hers forever. She was everything he knew his brother Falena disapproved of, despite being of noble birth. She was cunning and crude, which contrasted against the loud albeit well-mannered household his oldest brother believed in. If anything, that was all the more reason he wanted to be with her. And the rules backed him up, stating he could marry any noble he desired, no questions asked.

Yet, despite this rule, Leona knew he had to ask. He wanted to hear her opinion about the idea, even if her rejection would break his heart forever. He cared about her enough that even if she didn’t want to be his forever, he would let her go. He loved her enough to put her happiness before his own.

Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed an o-shape. However, she still had his hands in hers. Sucking in her breath, she asked, “Are you sure?”

He nodded slowly, not liking what he was hearing. “I’m sure. Do you want to marry me?”

Again, there was a pause. “Leona, are you certain it’s me you want to marry?”

Confused, he questioned her. “What do you mean, am I certain? Of course I'm certain! That's a dumb question to ask.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Leona, dear, you could have any noble in the whole world. I wouldn’t even be surprised if your brother allowed you to marry a commoner. So why would you want to marry some common noblewoman who doesn’t quite fit into your family dynamic?”

“Because you’re not some common noblewoman who doesn’t quite fit my family’s dynamic.” He explained, squeezing her fingers affectionately. “You are eccentric, fun, and compassionate. Your intelligence in everything astounds me and your golden heart proceeds you. You make me want to become a better person, not just to my friends, but to you as well. You are whom I fell in love with and wish to spend my remaining days with. Besides, I also don't quite fit into my family's dynamic as well. But you don't see them tossing me out yet. However, if you do not feel the same way, I will stand by and let you be happy with whomever you prefer.”

“I feel the same way.” She breathed. “Of course I feel the same way you feel for me. I’ve loved you from the very first dance at your birthday ball. You captured my heart and stole my soul, and I don’t want it back. You are everything to me, Leona. I am just surprised that you love me so much you’d want to be with me forever in marriage. Forgive me, but you don't seem like the marrying type.”

“Of course I want to marry you.” He replied roughly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I burn for you.”

She looked up at him with sparkling eyes and kissed his lips. “I burn for you too.”

[bug-swarm]

Uh yeah?

The point they are making is that some domesticated animals are not well suited for people who don't know what they are doing yet/might not be conducive to a lower amount of input lifestyle.

Like with most cats, it's pretty much the same thing, you get them toys, you get them food, you get them things to do and play with them, and generally care for the animal. Some cats might have slightly higher needs like higher vet care needs or a need to have multiple animals/no other animals with them, but 99% of all cats you can get at a shelter will be within a reasonable range of effort required to care for the animal.

And then you have the Savannah Cat. Which was originally created by breeding a wild breed cat and a domestic cat but are still 100% domesticated animals since they are interbred together nowadays and are usually multiple generations away from their wild ancestor. They have a lot more behavior issues because they have a HUGE amount of energy. A single person is likely not enough energy for a Savannah cat. Many have issues with litter box training or being picked up. Most are incredibly intelligent and can and will get into things often if you have not sufficiently given it enough to do. They tend to be more stubborn and are larger and stronger than most other domesticated cats. When you are deciding to get a savannah cat, you really need to be prepared for a cat that your entire life will revolve around for the entire time it lives. You cannot take a day off, leave one with a sitter, or board them in a pet boarding place (in most cases. Obviously there are exceptions), hell they aren't even legal in a lot of places so you likely can't move either. They are extremely loyal and do not act like a wild cat does, but they are very difficult animals (generally, obviously your mileage may vary on individual animals of course). Unless you are fully prepared to overhaul you and your whole family's lives to revolve around one cat, the savannah cat is not for you.

The same thing happens with some breeds of dogs. They just are not meant to be with people who don't know how to train an animal well or who isn't 100% ready to have that dog be THE central focus of their life. Most dogs don't have to be the central focus of your life, but some dog breeds absolutely do.

I love dog people

This is NOT a beginner pet!!!! (points to a fully domesticated animal)

[idliketobeatree]

having a lot of messy catwin thoughts, may i?

the tale of edwin and the cat king is cautionary, but it's a hopeful one and i'll die on this hill. i would narrow it down to a simple "play with your food for too long and it'll bite you",

and also, "there's a difference between freedom of body and emancipation of soul, but both come from a place of confinement."

it works in both ways. like all spells, flexibility comes with a price to pay. the cat king discovers first-hand that too much pleasure can kill you; by letting himself enjoy edwin's presence, he grows a sense of affection he was not prepared for when giving out the task.

what's more interesting, he never even planned to win by making edwin stay in port townsend. the cat king essentialy sets himself up for failure by giving a brilliant and meticulous boy– a goddamn detective– a riddle which he can easily solve. it takes edwin what, a few days to get close to the exact number?

of course, he expected that. eventually.

what he's really willing to bet on is the time spent with edwin, hoping he'll warm up to him by sheer proximity. the amount of stolen moments depended on his luck, if the boy turned out to be extra clever, maybe he'd have two or three days. maybe a week or more. from his experience, perhaps enough to break the uptight tease's composure.

but typically it ricochets, because he's the one getting hopelessly and romantically attached by the end.

with the events unfolding, the cat king gets progressively more trapped within the bounds he set himself. some of them he can't escape and it's fine, like his kingdom, an enclosure as much as a reluctant playground.

(credits to the king, making sure they are on equal grouds for this game at least— with the caging bracelet, edwin also cannot escape.)

the point is, it's been a power exchange since the beginning, and with the exception for the very first meeting, each little rendezvous ends with edwin reaffirming his agency.

edwin's body is physically unmovable from the town's area, but his mind's eye toys with the budding attraction for the cat king almost out of his control. so you have a ghost who can hop to anywhere in the world– who's brilliant brain expands to the edges of human reasoning, ever evolving, never stilling– who has a best friend at his side, and he's still so. terribly. lonely.

and you have a trickster who's rightful place comes with the job title– who can get anything he wants and be whoever he needs– who after three or four regenerations and probably hundreds of years still hasn't learned how to let people in without bleeding out in the process.

and look: that's the point. they have to hurt each other. it purifies them. the confusion, the baring of teeth and cheeks, the knowing naked looks. they need each other like dark soil needs essential nutrients.

edwin experiences an epiphany: apparently, being cornered can lead to a greater understanding of yourself. and also, desires have a mind of their own? who'd have guessed? they're capable of manifesting through his ghost body and only by facing them upfront— by having a facsimile of a honest conversation with the cat king— edwin can make peace with what he wants, and who he is. for edwin, the trickster represents forbidden and not easily accessible freedom of a physical body, with all its needs and peculiarities.

but for the cat king, oh my. edwin represents the true freedom of soul.

i mean, look at what hell dragged in. took a little over a week for this white lily to bloom, confident and devastating in its beauty, when it should be charred black or wilting.

but you like his secret parts, don't you? are you even aware of yours? if he asks, will you let him dig in?

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bereavement VI

An extra special epilogue for our two lovers. after all they have been through, the really deserve it.

i recommend reading the fic that lead up to this before anything else. No addendum, I feel like this is some of my best work and it would mean a lot for you to read it, but of course, as alwayse, you can do whatever you want forever.

Thank you. <3

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four part five

Retirement

Your first trip to Malaysia was all too quick, like a dream that feels like waking up. The next two were longer. It was the fourth trip that brought you out there permanently. You found a beautiful house right on the shoreline of Langkawi. Private beach, easy travel to and from, not that it was used too heavily. You were married within two years in a small, private, really just the two of you and witnesses ceremony. You thought often of your first husband, but never with the hatred and anger you once did. The sadness followed you, of course, you would have days where you cried for him. But no longer for yourself. 

 Nanami never made the call to rejoin Jujutsu society. It was about a year in when he finally told you of his time working as a sorcerer; his time training as a child, being the only sorcerer in his family, about his technique, about Haibara, about all the other losses and betrayals that came with working as a sorcerer. He worried you would be angry. He kept it from you for so long, but you just held him tighter to you, as did he. More reasons to be grateful for one another. He would never get the call from Gojo about the revival of Sukuna, he would never be called upon to join the forces in Shibuya. When things got worse in Japan Nanami’s name had been redacted from the ranks of available soldiers to call on.

He spent his days cooking and reading, watching old movies, and going on walks with you. It took him a few years to realize he wouldn’t have to worry about bills or working ever again, old habits die hard. But when he finally did, you had the pleasure of watching him come alive. Language, literature, cuisine became his passions, became his avenues for study and for fulfillment. Next to you, of course, who he loved more and more every day. 

You worked remotely to help Hiromi set up his own practice, completing your education and getting your credentials to practice, although you never did. It was more to complete the achievement rather than to work. Nanami was so proud of you, having watched you study and work to get through your classes online, bringing you snacks and coffee, carrying you back to bed when you fell asleep working. 

Now you sit in your patio chair outside, the sun on your face, the ocean in your ears, the salt in your lungs. Years have passed, you’ve set up a home here. And the cornerstone of that home stood at the shore’s edges, with his pants rolled up and his feet in the cool summer water. Chest bared, shoulder pink from the day’s exposure. More freckles litter his body, he's grown fuller now. As have you. Grief and stress and self punishment had let go of your bodies. The weight of your pain, your memories, your shame was now off your shoulders, lengthening your spines, and had instead become kind, soft weights around your middles and legs, your arms and backs. The physical manifestations of your love and your comfort. You love seeing him like this. Free and soft, not so rigid and stark. Even more handsome than the strung out, dark eyed business man you met in the cold office at, what you knew now, was the lowest moment of your entire life. There were no moments that low again, there wouldn’t be. 

Nanami turned to face you, smiling and squinting against the late afternoon, soon evening sun. His face has changed too, wrinkles around his eyes, grey coming in at his temples, cheeks still hard and cut, maybe even more so. And something that he never would have anticipated, two deep smile lines around either side of his mouth. For a moment, a splash of the waves, a glint of the sun, he was twenty-seven again, sleek and shattered, but yours even then. And for the next moment, you saw him much older. A white-grey having taken over, elevens and smile lines deeper, fuller, rounder. Just as beautiful, and just as yours. 

“Honey, the water’s perfect!” He called to you from the foamy tide. 

You stood from your chair, setting aside your glass and your book, taking his hand and feeling the warm ocean lap at your ankles. It was perfect, warm and clear. Like the sky above you. He held you tight in his arms, looking out at the horizon. 

“You know, for a moment, I thought I saw what you would look like as an old lady.” He kissed the side of your temple, smoothing your hair back and studying your present face. 

Your heart surged, nose twitching as you felt your eyes wet, but you smiled, “Oh yeah? What’d you think?” 

“Beautiful as ever.” He kissed your head again, you hummed happily, “Maybe even more beautiful.” 

“Careful.” You warned. 

He chuckled, rubbing his thumbs into your shoulders the way you always liked, “Okay, just as beautiful.” 

You looked at the horizon together, watching the sun tuck itself away into sleep. Before deciding to do so yourselves.

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Prompt? Chas eventually realising that Robert does love Aaron in the end in spite of it all.

All hell had broken loose in the two minutes it had taken for PC Swirling to arrest John for the murder of Nate, and the attempted murder of some Aiden and for him to be hauled away in handcuffs. Robert had missed the rest of their reasons, too taken aback to notice.

The mass of Dingles in the bar were shouting and screeching over each other, the rest of the villagers watching avidly and adding in their own two-penneth and Robert's ears were ringing with the noise. Everyone had something to say on the subject, determined to be first.

All except Aaron.

He just stood there. In the middle of pub, chaos erupting around him and he just stood there looking like his whole world had fallen apart and that he could crumble at any second.

He should stay out of it, he really should, but when could he ever, and there was no way on earth he could leave Aaron when he looked like that. It wasn't as if the rest of his family were taking any notice of him. Even after all these years that hadn't changed.

He knew he should get him out of there, before someone noticed and started shouting the odds at him.

"Hey." He said quietly, standing by his side, hand lightly resting on his back, not wanting to startle him. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

He doesn't speak, just guides him towards the pub backroom, figuring it'll at least be quiet and there's much less chance of anyone poking their nose in or worse, accusing him of being involved somehow.

He was at a bit of a loss now, what should he do, should he go. It's not like Aaron has wanted to be within six feet of him since he came back after his extra little stay inside, but if he didn't look after him who would. They were all too busy shouting the odds to even notice he'd gone most likely.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"Ok, no I'm not. Not that he's been found out any way. I am sorry that you've been hurt, again, by someone you love." Aaron didn't say anything, just sat down on the sofa, still in a daze. "I'll go then, shall I? Just wanted to get you out of that madness."

"Don't go." It's barely above a whisper but it stops him from heading to the door. "Don't want to be on my own."

He doesn't answer, sits down instead, feeling a bit awkward but he's not leaving now, not when Aaron's asked him to stay.

"You were right."

"I...I wish I wasn't. Not like this anyways."

"Am I that thick that I didn't notice?"

"Course not. Don't think that. He had everyone fooled Aaron, even me." He hadn't liked him, of course not, but even he hadn't imagined anything like this.

"I'm just so tired. Why can't I...why does everyone leave one way or another? You, Jackson, Ben, Liv and now I married the bloke who murdered my cousin." Robert wants to ask who Ben is but now is not the time, and he still gets that stab of grief and guilt when Liv is mentioned. "Perhaps I'm just better off on my own."

"Hey, no. Anyone is lucky to have you in their life. Look at me, eh? How I was before we met? How much you changed me. That was all you Aaron. He didn't deserve you. None of it is on you."

He doesn't say anything, just rests his head on Robert's shoulder and they sit in silence. It's only when the door opens and he doesn't move that he realises he's asleep.

"Oh." He looks up at Chas, expecting her to kick off, but instead he finds a soft smile on her face. "I didn't know where..."

"I thought it best he wasn't in there."

"We all lost it a bit." She sits opposite him. "The world really is determined to hurt him isn't it."

"He's strong, he'll get through this."

"Not going to use this to..."

"Chas, whatever you think of me, I wouldn't. If he wants me I'm here, but..."

"Sorry. I'm not thinking straight. All this...you know they think he gave me that overdose...and all along I thought he was the perfect man for Aaron."

"For you, anyone but me eh?"

"You hurt my son. Whatever your reasons were, good ones maybe, you broke his heart. Of course I'm going to go all mama bear, but...I can see how much you love him."

He huffs out a laugh trying not to move too much and wake Aaron. "Finally. Only took you a decade."

"Yeah well, you don't make it easy do you." She gets up. "Stay here, I'll bring you a drink. He's comfortable. And Robert...he does too, even if he doesn't see it right now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

[ohmylcve]

hey guyssss, so… i’m going through a lot. i’ve been filling up my agenda just so i wouldn’t have to face everything that’s going on in my life right now, but (of course) it backfired, and now i’m taking a proper look at everything that’s happening… and that includes rping. there are two things i’d like to say about that.

i feel like i’m losing myself in my threads. there are so many topics i want to write about, with different muses and all, but i’m forgetting it all, you know? i’ve been creating generalistic threads just so my muses would fit the rpc and stuff, but... i feel like i’m missing some threads for certain muses. so imma be working on a page for that: a page with the threads i want for these muses. and imma be looking for mutuals and non-mutuals to write them with me, as soon as i can.

that being said… i do love having lots of threads and stuff, but it’s been overwhelming for me, so i’m dropping a few and letting y’all know why, and whether or not i want to continue with the pairings.

i’ll be addressing all of my current threads, just so you all know where i stand regarding everything. i linked my last reply to all of them! so if it’s my turn, it’s probably because i haven’t seen your reply yet. you can always check the status here. i ask you to reply to this post within a month, just so i know what’s going on in your head too, okay? thanks for understanding, and please be patient with me. (also if you can't find your url, ctrl+f to find ooor send me a message!!) 💓

by the way, it’s totally okay if i said i wanna go on with a thread that you don’t want to. just let me know, okay? no problem at all for dropping threads here :)

@adollerina, i love marie. she's absolutely sweet... like everything skye wants but doesn’t think she deserves sldkghdsl. i'm keeping them, okay? let me know if that's what you want too. please reach out whenever you can :)

@ang3lmoans, you've been an angel to me ever since i came to this rpc. i don’t want to drop our threads, but i do want to develop jax and keith alongside other threads too. i looove our smuts, and i love how deeply our muses connect, so i definitely still wanna continue. but i was wondering if you’d like to have another ongoing thread for them. maybe even set after that day! as for howell and river, i was wondering if you’d be open to other threads for them. i wouldn’t be against it, but i do have this feeling they might just be a summer thing, after all. do you agree? where do you stand? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@anunkindncss, i do appreciate your blog a lot. i love it when you vent about something, and i find you to be an interesting person, though you might not know i think that. we have rory and isabella going on, as well as max and layla. i’ll be dropping them, because i lost muse for the threads, okay? still, my muses are always open for you to pick, and for us to write. i’m quite interested in some of your muses, so if you’d ever like to write again, please hit me up. and oh, please read the indented message below!

@bloodrodeo, though i love trent and layla, i think i might be dropping them. there’s something about layla’s reaction that isn’t really interesting for me to write. i hope that’s okay! and please read the indented message below.

@breannasewell, i'm keeping our threads! bree and logan are so sweet, and i do think there's quite some room to develop them, just like maddie and carson, with her terror of attachment and his sweet, gentle soul. as for the other pairing we're still plotting, i'd just ask you to gimme some time to think, okay? just so i can organize myself and see if it fits. please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@celestialmuses, it's absurd how we started with one pairing that matched perfectly and now we have so many ongoing good ones!!! i love that. so, i'm keeping elio and willow, for clear reasons (sweethearts, i love elio); leia and julian too, i'm dying for them already and it's been like… two replies?; selene and aspyn… i'm thinking selene's someone i always wanted for aspyn. i love how honest she is, and how aspyn needs someone like her to understand her; buuut, unfortunately, i'm dropping stella and chloe (i'm sorry!); but i'd love to offer someone else for stella, if you'd like! please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@confusionism, i miss you! i don’t know if you’re away or something, but i really love your writing and i’d love to keep going with setareh and chloe. maybe we could start something new, though? what do you think? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@dcymcres, i saw you were going through something, and because of that you haven’t replied. i hope life’s being kind to you, and that everything’s getting better, little by little. as for our threads, i’ll be dropping myungsoo and layla, because i haven’t been feeling layla recently — hope that’s okay (and please read the indented message below!). as for dj and chloe, i still want them. i hope you do too! we can definitely write another thread if you’d like that (i definitely would). please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@disapprove, i love daisy and nyx. the power, the boldness, the chemistry… i love it all. and i still want to keep going with them! do you want that too? also, you’re so FUN to talk to. i miss that. please reach out whenever you can.💓

@enchantedlives, for some reason i’m not feeling ben and nina. they’re absolutely sweet and she’s such a nice support for him — i know how much he needs it. but i’m just not feeling her, you know? so i’m dropping them, i’m sorry… and please read the indented message below.

@etvdes, how lovely is grey!!! they’re terrified and yet trusting kaia to take care of their feelings... i’m not quite sure if kaia will, because she can get messy with people’s feelings :p not because she wants to, but... it’s kinda who she is. i do hope she takes care of grey’s feelings!!! that being said, i still wanna keep them, if that’s what you want too. please reach out whenever you can, okay? just so i know if you still wanna go on with them. 💓

@everseens, logan and savannah are literally destroying my heart, and i love them. i still wanna keep going with them, do you too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@fadinglights, i was about to archive river as a muse when i posted that starter. your muse is one of the reasons why i didn’t archive him. thanks for that. i love your reply, i love anna, and i wanna keep going with river and anna. do you too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@karismatica, i was soooo wishing chloe would dump collin but HOW the hell do i love them? lskdghls thank you for corrupting my mind with the lovely asshole that collin is! i still wanna keep going with chloe and collin! do you want to too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@gcdwilling.... where to even begin? i love you. you’re such a good friend to me. i miss you, and part of the reason i’m writing this huge post is because i’ve been missing you — and because i feel like i’ve neglected you by keeping everything around without really dealing with it. so i’m sorry for that. still, i want you to know you’re in my heart. i’m keeping all of our threads! though i know it’s a lot, i think we’ve set a pretty nice pace for them all. i hope you feel that way too. ❣️

@gracland, i admire you from afar. i think you’re absolutely sweet and caring. we did have violet and keith ongoing, as well as conrad and nyx, and i’d like to know if you’re still interested in them. it’s completely alright if you’re not! i’m just saying that i think they have a really nice dynamic, and the fc fit is amazing. please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@heroexxs, i love your blog. when i joined the rpc, your blog was one of the first i checked out, and i was like “wow, i need to write with her.” and as i did… i mean… dani and chloe are so sweet??? i love their first interaction. i’m thinking about maybe writing another thread for them, or even chat threads on the online platform? all i know is i wanna keep going with them. maybe we could plot it out a bit, if you’d like! please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@hiddcnhorizcns, i absolutely love your writing. also, i know you’ve been feeling your pace for rping lately, and i’m really glad our stories were picked to keep going in a moment when you dropped everything else. i want to keep going with julian and maisie, as well as austin and nina, if that’s still what you want!! i can’t quite recall the last replies though. i think i’ve replied to all. did i? anyway, please reach out whenever you can! 💓

@idledwritings, i know our thread has like, two replies, but i’d like to drop it. i’m not feeling vali much lately, and i need to set some things up for her. so i’m dropping holden and vali, i hope that’s okay! please read the indented message below.

@immaculate-misconcepticn, thank you so so so much for letting me know you’re taking your time to reply, and thanks for making me part of it. i’m still here for alucard and kaia, and i hope you are too! i’m dropping aspyn and alucard though. please reach out whenever you can 💓

@impcrsonatcr, i don’t really know what happened with our thread for veronica and rowan, but somehow i wasn’t — and still am not — feeling rowan much. so i’m dropping the thread, i hope that’s okay! please read the indented message below.

@impcstcrsyndrcme, i’m once again dropping our threads, dear. i’m so so so sorry. maybe it’s writing in portuguese that’s not clicking with me, maybe it’s the different universe… or maybe something else. but anyway, i’d like to drop it all. i’m sorry.

@ivyheaven, ever since i was out of the rpc i used to follow your blog and read your stories and honestly i reeeeally like your muses and your writing!! i'd love to keep on going with ivette and lyanna, as well as gabriel and danielle! would you still like that too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@jawbrkrs, i’d love to go on with tommy and nyx! they have such a toxic dynamic, and i’m dying to see how it develops beyond the thread we have. i’d love to keep going with our current thread and start a new one, if you’re up for it. please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@jetaiimee, i’d love to go on with greg and danielle, as well as (especially) isabelle and xander!! i just finished watching white lotus recently and i’m obsessed with the fcs. do you still want to keep going too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@kingdomsbed, you're new here so sorry for the masterpost sldkghlsd still, i'd like to go on with dean and river if you'd like! do you? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@legendaryl0stpieces, i’ve lost muse for both threads... sasha and aylin, as well as layla and brielle. so i’m dropping them. :((

@lilacheavns, you knooow i’m keeping them!!! love how they’re developing and bonding. love them. love the ideas we’ve plotted out for them, so yessss, seth and izzy are a yes!

@mndstom, i did lose muse for most of our threads, and for that i'm sorry! i’m dropping lydia and chloe, naeun and megara and logan and chaeyeong... still, i didn't lose muse for lydia and sage, would you like to go on with them? please reach out whenever you can! 💓

@muse-legion, i looove writing with you. the way your muses perceive the moment, feel it, and the way you write is amazing! i'm keeping all of our threads: mateo and nikki, harvey and nyx, and deniz and rylah.

@myxtorturedxheart, i'm not quite sure what happened with our thread of aspyn and riley, but stiiill, i'm dropping them!! please read the indented message below!!

@ofbookshelves, omg you're the sweetest. i love rae, and i love how many of my muses you like writing against!!! you keep on requesting them, and honestly, i adore it. even though we’ve got a lot of threads, i feel like we’ve found a pace that works for us — so yes, i’m keeping all of our threads!

@ofdisregard, i'm not sure if you've dropped our threads and i missed it, or if there's a reply i still owe you, but either way—i’d really love to know if you’re still interested in continuing riley and aylin (maybe on another thread tho?), as well as iris and keith! just reach out whenever you can. 💓

@onthepodiium, i've lost muse for vaughn and nyx, as well as nikki and damien... i'm sorry! please, read the indented post below, among other things, there i mention that we can always plot out sth new!

@plantcdroots, i mean UGH it's been just a few replies (for river and isa and also for maddie and santos) and........ so much drama, angst. they fit so well!! i still wanna go on with them. do you too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@reevezs, you're neeew here! sorry for the mess. you've replied to callie's starter aaand i'm just tagging you to let you know that i plan on going on with them! hope you do so too! 💓

@rosesonbreeze, hiya, sorry for the mess! you're new here too! so i'm just tagging to let you know that i'm going on with our thread. :))

@ruinedsoulsrp, hi love! i hope everything's alright with your little one, your husband and everything else. i'm keeping track of you, always reading your posts to make sure you're alright, so no rush here, alright? i'm keeping all of our threads, just so you know! let me know if you'd like to drop any of them okay? 💓

@seriallcver, hiya! you're new here too, so sorry for the mess lol. still! just letting you know i still wish to go on with nina and jamie. love him, his guts, his smile. love how he's teasing her :p

@spoiledrctten, we started out with kenzo and chloe and honestly, i LOVE kenzo, and i love their dynamic!! i'm keeping them, and i'd still like to keep jerry and keith as well. i did reply to micah with sienna, but i'm not sure you've seen it! anyway, let me know if you're still interested in writing all of them, please? 💓

@slumpcd, love love love nikki and lucien and i wanna go on with them!! i was just wondering if you'd like to plot sth out, like a new thread or something?? what do you think? please reach out whenever you can 💓

@synnshaus, i find our threads reeeeally dynamic and i do appreciate them a lot!!! i'm keeping mason and vali, as well as synn and layla (who replied last?), but i'm letting go of the others (cameron and megara; alphonse and nyx; alphonse and kaia), because i've lost muse for them :(

@thursdaygrl, i don't know if you've dropped our threads oor if i didn't see your replies, but i'd really like to go on with maren and keith, as well as ferris and maddie. do you too? please reach out whenever you can. 💓

@wastedtimcs, i’d still loooove to go on with caitlyn and miles. would you too? please reach out whenever you can!

(( hi, partner whose thread is being dropped. i'm sorry i'm dropping our threads, but i'd like to let you know that i'm doing this out of respect for you: it wouldn't be fair to you or your muse if i kept writing without inspiration. i do hope you understand. that doesn't mean i don't want more threads with you, okay?? please reach out if you'd like to write other things. i'm in a moment in which i'm setting some plot ideas for my muses and i might take some time to reply, but please, reach out if you'd like. i will respond as soon as possible. ))

[dominimoonbeam]

Hiiiii! I saw the post thingy and thought I’d request one!

28 - spriseing then with their favorite treat! I follow in the anons tracks with a Darlin/Milo or Darlin/Gavin paring because I am in fact a sucker for them 💔 (it’s a problem but whatever it’s fine)

Your wrighting is literally so fantastic and the Milo/Darlin one you just posted was so good!!! (Half the reason I’m requesting is so I can talk about how damn sweet it is I can’t 😭❤️)

No pressure of course! Make sure your eating and drinking right:3 even if you don’t need an internet stranger telling you so lol

Thank you for the ask, Angel, and for all the incredibly kind words!!! I love the rare pairs and those are both some seriously rare ones! I went with the Darlin/Gavin and I hope you like it. <3 <3 <3

tags: aftermath of violence, near death

Gavin liked to cut through the park. He never bothered with the paths and he didn't need to lamps at night to see. He'd always liked letting the dark swallow him up, it made him smirk, because not even the dark could take him. And in the deep dark parts of that park, where he could still hear the city all around, he could see the auras of the people in his mind like fireflies. Or maybe, from there, they were more like far away stars.

He swirled the contents of the giant plastic cup in his hand and noticed one of those lights a lot closer than the others. He hadn't really noticed it at first because it was so faint. Walking toward it, he wrinkled his nose, picking up the taste of pain and shame. The incubus tongued the straw back into his mouth and sucked, like that cherry slushy could wash the taste out of his psyche.

When he got closer, he could smell the blood sprayed across the grass. A tree was cracked at the base and another downed, letting the moonlight cut down into that space.

The shifter, in human form, was half propped up against the fallen tree. Their breaths were pained and ragged, and their heart fluttered wild but weak against his senses.

Gavin swirled the icy and stopped with his boots on either side of one of their legs, looking down at them curiously. They reeked of violence, of hurt, and that cloying shame he hated so much.

Their eyes opened, yellow fixing on him, and their aura smoothed--making him catch his breath at the clarity of it. It was...still. They looked at him with complete focus, sweeping everything else aside, like for that second they were the only two creatures in the universe. Gavin felt a chill at being looked at like that. When was the last time he felt a chill?

The shifter lifted an arm--the one not broken. Bloody fingers spread, reaching for him.

Gavin took a step closer, definitely within reach now. He expected the dying creature to paw at him--to beg him to heal them. He would do it. Of course he would. Gavin got nothing from suffering and death. But that arm lifted higher and that busted mouth pulled into a bloody smirk when their fingers brushed his on the cup. "Do you mind?" they rasped and it was then he saw the gash in their neck, gushing red down their front.

Gavin raised an eyebrow and nodded, not sure what they wanted until they gently took the big gulp cup from his hand.

He watched them clumsily bring it down to their chest and then drink from the straw. Their aura lit with delight and their body unwound a little, relaxing into that place against the tree. "Fuck... That's so good," they admitted, looking up at him again. "You're an angel then?"

He was smiling without meaning to. "Pretty sure I'm the opposite."

The shifter took another drink and sighed. "Beautiful, I'd follow you anywhere." Their smile softened and their aura warmed just looking at him. His heart pounded just seeing it, seeing the affection and appreciation there for something so small. They wanted nothing more. They just nodded, the cup sliding out of their hand. "Thank you."

Before the big gulp hit the grass, Gavin was on his knees over them, his power sliding down into their body. For a split-second he thought he felt the water of the river against his arms when he pulled their soul back into their body, healing it around them. He hadn't realized how close they were to death. He hadn't seen it, because they had stopped being afraid when they saw him.

Together they inhaled, those yellow eyes fixed on his as their bones healed, followed by muscle and skin. He didn't leave anything unmended--not a single bruise, not one broken blood vessel. He put this one back together, shivering pleasantly at the steady, powerful beat of their heart when he was done.

For long minutes they stayed like that, so close but not quite touching, watching each other in the moonlight.

Gavin expected the shifter to ruin the moment any minute now. They'd probably shove him away and make a run for it now that they were whole.

"Are you okay?"

Gavin exhaled hard, feeling like he'd been knocked down.

The shifter just looked up at him, a little crease in their forehead and a worried twist to their lips and their aura. "You didn't have to... I mean, thank you, really, but...that was a lot of power. Are you okay?"

The clouds moved and the moon winked out, casting them back into the deep dark of the midnight park. Those yellow eyes still held his gaze, watching like he was the only star in the whole sky.

[uniquevoidflowers]

Chapter 6

Word count: 2,427

Legend hadn’t left this bedside for hours. The air was stuffy, his eyes stung from tears long shed.

The infirmary room smelled of blood and vomit.

With every waking moment that Warrior was not awake, he worried. Yet, he refused to look at him, unwilling to bear the pain of a pale and still face where blue eyes once darted everywhere. “Legend,” A familiar voice spoke softly.

Dad was there, honey-coloured hair unkempt and his eyes dimmer than ever. The prince drew in a breath. “Hello, Father.”

“He will be okay. Warrior has survived much worse than this, and I doubt he’d leave you for very long.”

There was silence for a moment, and the prince refused to break it. Eventually Dad hugged him, and Legend froze. When was the last time his parents had hugged him? “I have no right to ask this of you...but the Servants of Demise are taking action. Ordon was ransacked—there are tons of reports of missing children, and wounded civilians. Hateno’s labs have been destroyed, some of the researchers dead or gravely wounded...I’m afraid that we’re starting to run out of time.”

Legend didn’t want to leave Warrior here, but he knew what his father was about to say.

“Will you continue to find the chosen heroes?”

“It’s not my choice,” Legend answered. “It’s my duty, to my people, to help them in their time of need.”

“I will send word once he’s recovered,” Dad promised.

“What’s being done in Ordon and Hateno? Are there any measures being taken?”

“Of course. We’ve positioned more knights in both places, and sent our condolences through rupees. There’s been warnings of the Servants of Demise now I think...I’m worried it’ll sent people into a panic.”

“Because of the last war,” Legend said quietly.

Dad’s gaze turned fierce, and angry. “There will never be something like that again. We will find Sun, we will defeat those servants, and we will not let our people down. Enough of this.”

Legend could only watch as his father stalked out of the room. He wondered what exactly happened during the war. It was never disclosed to him, and he’d only ever dared to ask once. All he saw was his mother flinch and cup his face, “The event has been recorded down, and you may read it when you’re much older, okay? It’s still something your father and I are recovering from.”

The prince had never even considered going to check for those records. Even though Dad had said there wouldn’t be another war...Legend would have to check later. For now, there was the matter of finding the rest of the heroes.

For some reason, the voice’s earlier words kept coming back to him.

‘There are approximately eight more to find. Worry not, all but one are right within your grasp.’

That had to mean that he knew some of them...but who in particular? “I’m sorry, War, I’m going to leave you again,” Legend whispered. “I’ve got to go to the library again.”

He hurried out of the room, and it was like a breath of fresh air. He saw a servant looking at him, a little bit concerned as he continued to rush away. He eventually got there and found Vio there, sitting in a pile of books. “Er, Vio?”

His friend jumped a little and then shrugged. “I asked where the nearest library was and ended up here.”

Why was he even surprised? Legend just offered a slight smile and searched through the books, looking for anything about the war. As he read every golden title and summary, Vio asked, “How’s your friend doing? Warrior, was it?”

The prince’s hands fell to his sides. “He’ll be fine.”

He has to be.

The air turned tense and Legend hated it, but Vio just said softly, “Alright.”

After a bit more digging, the prince couldn’t find records of it here. They must’ve really not wanted him to see it...but where else would it be? Guilt was overcome by his determination and he offered a quick farewell before he walked towards his father’s office. Nobody answered so he let himself in, beads of sweat beginning to form as he stepped inside without permission. He closed the door behind him and found journals and papers near Dad’s desk. He found a book titled, the War of the Prince.

Legend’s throat went dry.

‘Account of the King’

To understand a grand war like this, one must have an understanding of the Servants of Demise. The Servants of Demise are followers of a fabled Demon King. Their goal is to eradicate the royal family, and resurrect the Demon King with the ancient Triforce. The Royal Family has long since sworn off using its power, and its location has become unknown. However, there was a prophet who came to my father, and warned of the Demon King’s revival. They also spoke of heroes that would strike him down.

And then my beautiful baby son was born.

The Servants of Demise came without warning, and they came after the infant prince. They had managed to convince many people that the prince of Hyrule was destined to destroy them all. They sowed fear in people and soon, it was countries taking sides. The Twili Region, New Hyrule, and Calatia sided with Hyrule. The rest didn’t (with the exception of the Lost Woods).

Legend didn’t want to skip through all this new information but he needed to be quick.

—and though all seemed lost, I was able to do it. With the aid of Warrior, we struck down their leader, and rescued the Queen, and the prince. The majority of the Servants of Demise lay unmoving on the battlefield. We were declared heroes by our kingdom, though I barely felt like one.

And then it was clear to Legend. His father was one of the heroes.

“I implore you, do not forget of what lies unseen by your eyes.”

He wondered briefly, what that meant but then the door jostled and Dad walked in. “...Link?”

Legend was rarely ever called that. He took a risk, and said, “You’re one of the heroes, father.”

Dad flinched, but he didn’t seem overly surprised. “I could be...however, why are you in my office?”

He considered telling the whole truth, but he couldn’t. It was so unusual for Dad to get super angry at him, and he didn’t want to face that fury. He simply said, “I was looking for you so we could confirm it. I’m sorry, I should’ve left when I didn’t hear you answer.”

His father softened. “It’s alright, Legend. Let us go to the Room of Swords.”

The hand put on his shoulder then felt like it was burning. He never lied to his father. Now, as he felt a bitter taste on his tongue, he understood why.

__________________________________________

“Your Majesty,” Fi glanced at the glowing blade the King held firmly in his hands, with not a hint of expression. “There’s been a new report that must be addressed this moment.”

“Go on.”

“New Hyrule is requesting military aid. Their capital, Spirit Town, has been severely devastated.”

Did that mean the Servants of Demise were going to attack the people who sided with Hyrule in the war? Dad’s face darkened as he sheathed his weapon. “We will send military aid. Tell the General of this, and bring reports if there are any further details.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, Time walked in with Twilight. “Forgive me for interrupting, but I think I might have an idea of how we could find the rest of the heroes.”

“Legend, you are to discuss this, I must leave now,” Dad nodded and left with the royal advisor.

“This may seem a little too on the nose but you know the heroes of legend, right?” Twilight pressed.

“Yes, I’ve read about them.”

Twilight’s ears tinged red and Time took over, saying, “I believe it’s as simple as finding names. Your name is Legend, and...there was a Hero of Legend. I’m named after the Hero of Time. Do you follow?”

At first he felt skeptical but he realized they were right...and his commoner friends...

Hero of Winds.

Hero of Hyrule.

Green, Vio, Red, Blue, part of the Hero of the Four Sword.

Bile rose in his throat, but he cleared his throat and said, “I see. That would make sense.”

Sure enough, when he called his friends there, they were each able to wield a sword. “That explains why we were targeted,” Vio mused, holding a copy of his brothers’ sword, a purple ribbon attached to the golden hilt.

An apology was on the prince’s tongue but he merely nodded, grateful that they could at least find the heroes so quickly. Saving his mother didn’t seem so impossible anymore. “There’s one more we have to find.”

One thing he was certain of, was that it wouldn’t be so easy as the last seven. “Master, you will not hear another word from me but do not fret, for you have acquired much. I apologize for leaving you without more of what I have done for you so far.”

What? Why are you leaving?

But the voice was gone, and his head was emptier than it used to be. He hadn’t realized it, but he had grown to feel the voice’s presence and it felt so utterly wrong with it gone. This was the first time he’d heard a hint of emotion and it was the last time he’d ever hear it. The thought unsettled him deeply, that guidance like this could be taken away so easily. Suddenly, he got the feeling that this was coming together all too easily.

“Ledge?” Hyrule asked, clutching a blade with a ruby hilt.

“Yes?” The prince was startled out of his distressing thoughts.

“None of us know how to use a sword,” Blue pointed out. “Did you?”

“Not really, but I received training. I guess while I go and find the last of us, you can train in the Kokiri Province.”

“Wait, that’s in the Lost Woods,” Vio blinked. “We’re well unprepared to go in such a wild place.”

He was right, unfortunately. “Time and Twilight, can go with you, right?”

Time nodded and his expression was oddly soft. “Of course we can. We’ll depart now, if that’s alright with you.”

Legend nodded, tearing his eyes away from the group. He had a farfetched idea but after all the information he’d gathered, it was his best hope. He found the King and asked, “May I go to New Hyrule with the military aid?”

Dad stiffened, but then gave a long sigh. “Why?”

“Well, so far it doesn’t really make sense why the Servants of Demise would specifically attack New Hyrule unless...there’s a hero there.”

His father fell silent for a moment, his eyes swimming with something unreadable. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too risky. You are the crown prince and a hero.”

Legend pressed, “Yeah, I’m a hero. I can handle my own now, and if I’m attacked, I can save myself.”

“As I said, it’s too risky,” Dad said, in his ‘drop it’ tone.

The prince knew that his father was right in worrying...but he also knew that he might be right. This might’ve been what the voice had said about one hero being out of his grasp. He left, heart pounding, and anger coursed through him. The records were checked thoroughly but there was no ‘Spirit’ or anything similar living in Hyrule. A groan of frustration left him and he went back to Warrior, slipping in the room quietly. Hours had passed in a stretch of eternity but moments like this were fleeting, when he wasn’t busy with some task. “You better wake up soon. You always have good ideas when I’m stuck.”

An arrow flew with precision but missed its mark entirely, landing in the grass. The sunlight was on the target, illuminating the spot he needed to hit. This was his thirteenth arrow, and it missed the target entirely this time. “I’m doing everything I’m supposed to! Why isn’t this working?!”

Warrior came over. “May I assist you, Your Highness?”

“Legend,” The prince reminded. “And no, I’ve just been warming up. I’ll surely get it this try.”

His next arrow hit the bottom of the target, nowhere near the spot. Warm, calloused hands set on his arms and moved them. “Now, relax. You’re too tense.”

Legend obliged, taking a deep breath. His guard smiled, encouraging, “Now, release the arrow. You will succeed this time.”

Reminding himself to relax, he loosed the arrow and hit just beside the target. Warrior let go, still grinning like an idiot, and the next arrow drove into the painted spot almost perfectly. Legend felt a burst of pride and emotion but all he did was say, “You do it by yourself, War.”

Warrior took the bow and with all the confidence in the world he let an arrow fly. It flew over the target. Legend barked out a laugh but the guard hit the target square in the next attempt. “First try! Isn’t that impressive Your Highness?”

“Hey! You did not do that in the first try!” Legend squawked.

“Lies and slander,” The guard sniffed.

The prince grinned and a hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair. He turned up to a content Warrior and asked, “You moved my arms earlier. How was my aim off?”

Warrior answered, “You were aiming a bit low, but you were pretty close. I’m here the next time you train, if you need any more tips.”

‘Cause he could always go to his guard when an obstacle was blocking his path. He didn’t say that though, of course. Instead he huffed. “Says the guard who has to lie about his talents.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Highness.”

Tears spilled down the prince’s face. “Why haven’t you woken up yet, War? Haven’t they given you fairies and potions? You’re stronger than this.”

He could imagine royal blue eyes opening, and a familiar smile at the sight of him, but neither of those things happened. So, Legend went outside, back to pray to the Goddesses. He stepped into freezing cold waters and words spilled off his tongue like a waterfall. This was where the Goddesses revealed a hero’s whereabouts. Perhaps they could reveal another one’s? When he was finished though, all was still, and nothing had occurred.

Or at least...that’s what it seemed until a boat docked and a boy with golden hair and scruffy clothes came hand in hand with a princess.

[fagtainsparklez]

Minato is I think the one you will find the hardest to pin down a personality cause not even the movies, theatre or side games can agree with a personality on him!

And it's incredibly weird when comparing to his female counterpart who is written with a more defined personality and in Q2 basically the protag of that game next to joker

some games he's just written with like little dialogue (Q2), some theatre he is incredibly moody or in the movies case written to be a complete asshole so I say Good luck!

[carlyraejepsans]

for real WHERE does the idea that [utdr humans] are nongendered so that "you can project on them" come from. their literal character arcs are about NOT being a blank slate to be filled in by the audience

i think i understand the assumption on some level for undertale, because there is a very intentional effort to make you identify with the "player character" in order to make your choices feel like your own (the beating heart of undertale's metanarrative lies in giving you an alternative path to violence against its enemies after all, and whether you're still willing to persue it for your own selfish reasons. YOUR agency is crucial).

of course, the cardinal plot twist of the main ending sweeps the rug from under your feet on that in every way, and frisk's individuality becomes, in turn, a tool to further UT's OTHER main theme: completionism as a form of diegetic violence within the story. replaying the game would steal frisk's life and happy ending from them for our own perverse sentimentality, emotionally forcing our hand away from the reset button.

i think their neutrality absolutely aids in that immersion. but also, there's this weird attitude by (mostly) cis fans where it being functional within the story makes it... somehow "editable" and "up to the player" as well? which is gross and shows their ass on how they approach gender neutrality in general lol.

but also like. there's plenty of neutral, non PCharacters in undertale and deltarune. even when undertale was just an earthbound fangame and the player immersion metanarrative was completely absent, toby still described frisk as a "young, androgynous person". sometimes characters are just neutral by design. it's not that hard to understand lol.

anyone who makes this argument for kris deltarune is braindead. nothing else to say about it.

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I rarely see it in Elden Ring lore videos but I feel like part of what's up with Rennala when we find her `is that she was reborn herself. Maybe it's just that she's heartbroken and all, but the way she speaks and behaves feels childish. Perhaps she was her own first test subject, though what exactly she hoped to gain I couldn't say.

Or, given that the amber egg was a gift left behind by Radagon, maybe it was used on her by someone else.

[ghoulishtomato]

Hilarious how lots of conservatives think resistance against change is actual resistance and not just them clinging to the status quo.

[sammygender]

the thing thats always missing in conversations about gender in general is the fact that 'cis', as an identity, is not a innate Thing Some People Are, but rather a state of acceptance society grooms us into from birth

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my salmonid ocs again... I need to design them soooo bad but at the same time I have yet to decide what to do with their clothes as while the traditional battle salmon pant would suffice my need to do needless extra work for the sake of worldbuilding is powerful indeed