#just me n the bestie

[lotus-pear]

lore accurate teen soukoku. the worsties ever

#rewatched fifteen w my bestie bc she finally reached season 3 and i forgot just how insufferable these two idiots are💀 #literally calling each other slurs in one scene and then holding hands in the next #what the fuck is wrong with them /gen #anyway this accurately sums up their dynamic to me. toxic besties. gossip gals. teenage girls. whatever that dynamic is called #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #nakahara chuuya #chuuya nakahara #soukoku #skk #lotus draws #also my friend is literally insane bc she was like “chuuya n dazai are satosugu coded but if like stsg actually had BEEF w each other” #LIKE WHAT😭😭 #THE ONLY THING THEY HAVE IN COMMON IS DOOMED BY THE NARRATIVE YAOI #sobbing you guys shouldve seen the face i fucking made at her. i was so disappointed

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

you are somebody that i want to keep ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you aren't sure what you have with satoru gojo, but you know that it’s good.

word count; 6.7k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, colleagues to friends to something unlabelled, you love each other though!!, fluff, hurt/comfort, very very soft, reader falls first but gojo falls harder, both of u are afraid of intimacy lol, a lil angsty if u squint, satoru gojo cherishing u for ~7k words straight <33

a/n; basically just a collection of moments between you and gojo throughout the years <33 (a significant amount of time has passed between each part!!) hes an emotionally repressed loser but i love him and he is smitten w u.

in the soft luminescence of daybreak, your kitchen looks something like a dream.

tainted with a hazy sunshine, simmering with warm colours and pleasant scents, it almost seems to sparkle in the peripheral of your vision. brimming with that feeling of home, a home you’ve broken your bones building, desperate to shape it into something safe — and you think you’ve done a pretty good job.

it’s soothing, comforting, all of these sensations. bleeding into each other like smudges of paint on a canvas; hyacinths blooming by the windowsill, espresso-flavored steam wafting up to the roof, soft meows stemming from the cats by your feet. absolute bliss.

indulging in a peace yet to be shattered by the strain of the working world, you rub the sleep from beneath your weary eyes. blinking and yawning like a drowsy child.

beyond the translucent glass of your windows, glimmering with the light of a sun soon to rise, the world is painted pink and indigo — save for that one hint of gold, a streak of honey slathered across the surface of the sky. fluffy clouds drift through the chilly air, melting in the wake of a new day, and you think they look a little like tufts of cotton candy. soft enough to sink your teeth into, if only the glass wasn’t in the way. keeping the cold out.

it’s a new day. a pleasant morning, sitting comfortably on the brink of dawn, before the city has a chance to rouse from its slumber.

a kind of solitude you so rarely get to bask in. 

a false solitude, really. because, for once, there’s another human being in your home — one you don’t know nearly as well as you’d like, for him to be fast asleep on your couch, cheek smushed against the leather. snoring softly. 

satoru gojo.

like this, he looks very… human. vulnerable. hair just slightly tousled, from tossing and turning on your not-so-comfortable couch, blindfold only covering one of his eyes and close to slipping off entirely. his expression has melted into one of something vaguely resembling relaxation, as close to unguarded as you assume he can physically get.

even in his sleep, he looks a little stiff. not entirely at peace; like a stray cat sleeping under the hood of a car. 

(you’re curious. fascinated, maybe, by the loneliness that clings to the strongest person in the universe. by the paradoxical innocence of his grin.)

honestly, everything from last night is kind of a blur. you remember accompanying the strongest sorcerer on a mission, one long enough to leave you completely and utterly spent, fatigue nestled deep into your bones. remember gojo getting a sudden migraine, so earth-shattering that you thought he was going to keel over and throw up in the middle of the street.

then you remember bringing him back home with you. very hesitantly, only after he begrudgingly accepted the fact that he didn’t have much of a choice. because you were fucking exhausted, and so was he, and your apartment happened to be conveniently close. you remember him practically passing out on your couch, still somehow managing to crack a bad joke you can’t recall, while you went to collapse into the comfort of your bed.

and now you’re here. dyed in half-transparent sunbeams, caffeine bubbling in your veins, gazing at your sleeping coworker from your spot by the kitchen table. waiting for the world to open its weary eyes.

it’s still early. some part of you expects him to sleep a while longer, but you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when gojo begins to stir.

a splotch of sunshine splatters across your living room window, staining the floorboards, falling over the contours of his pretty face. in the light, he looks positively holy; white lashes, pale skin, plump lips. like a goddess.

when he opens his eyes, it’s even worse. a single iris cracked open, pooling with unbridled brilliance. eyes so blue they seem to cut through the stillness of the air.

(— and the world wakes up.)

a little groan slips from his lips, barely audible. with groggy movements, he brings a hand up to his face, obscuring the grating light of the sun flitting in. you think you can almost see the gears of his mind turn, as he takes notice of his surroundings, remembering what transpired just hours before.

faster than you thought, he regains some semblance of composure. huffing under his breath, as he forces himself into a sitting position. 

it feels a little wrong, to see the closest thing this world has to a god act so human. be so human. morning-fatigued, just like you, wearing droopy eyelids and a soft, sleepy pout. a little disheveled. groggy with lost dreams.

when his gaze meets yours, you can’t control the breath that hitches pitifully in the back of your throat. a meek skip of your heartbeat, like you just saw something you shouldn’t have. oops.

gojo cracks a grin.

“.. watchin’ me sleep?” he calls out, cheeky. paired with a drowsy yawn. composed, unbothered, but there’s something almost performative about it, something you’re sure you’d miss if he wasn’t still in the process of collecting himself. 

“good morning,” is all you offer him. ignoring his teasing remark. he doesn’t push it, to your surprise. “sleep well?”

a hum. absentminded, jovial. one of his large hands goes to adjust his blindfold, the other to fluff up his hair. kicking off the blanket you just barely had the energy to throw over him last night. your fluffiest one, warm enough to protect him from the chill gnawing at the windows. hopefully.

“like a log,” he quips, stretching idly, muscles straining under his baggy uniform. they must be sore, after that mission. or maybe he’s above such things.

choosing not to comment on his obvious lie, you put your lips against the ceramic of your cup. sipping from the bitter brew, a tinge of hazelnut on your tongue. letting him gather his bearings without you scrutinizing him. a little favor, one liar to another.

“thanks for letting me crash,” he grins, lazy. toothy. stumbling to his feet with a low groan, gaze flitting around the room — looking for the exit. “i’ll get outta your hair,” he mutters, and you raise a brow.

“not staying for breakfast?”

gojo stills. your question rings out, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen, into the living room.

his smile twitches, ever so slightly, in what you think must be surprise. then it’s back to normal; like putting on a mask, not allowing a sliver of weakness to slip through the cracks. he exhales a raspy chuckle, a sound that flows through the air and crawls down your spine.

”generous, aren’t you?” he hums, voice rich with amusement. dappling sunlight licks at the white locks of his hair.

you shrug. “i wouldn’t mind the company.”

the words climb up the walls of your throat, a little reckless, eager to catch a glimpse of the miracle before you. satoru gojo, framed by the simplicity of your home — somewhat hard to let go of. sunkissed skin, restless hands. a little out of tune. shifting from foot to foot, eager to get away.

(a little like a frightened fawn, you amuse yourself by thinking. he’s really more like the fox who scared it.)

you think he must be bit uncomfortable. forced to spend the night in a coworker’s apartment, one he doesn't even know that well, one he probably doesn’t have any intention of getting to know. still trying to politely excuse himself. persistent, stubborn.

maybe he didn’t expect this. maybe he was convinced he could sneak away, before you had a chance to wake up. maybe he thought you’d be all too eager to let him leave, and never speak of this again. maybe he’s not used to being wanted. 

“ha… i’m flattered, believe me, but —“

“what do you usually eat?” you ask. cutting him off, gently, tapping your fingertips against the edge of the table. “for breakfast, i mean. i’ll whip something up.”

a chuckle slips from his lips. you can’t put your finger on it, but something about it bothers you. “really, there’s —“

“if you’re worried about inconveniencing me, don’t be.” you pause, unsure of what to say. but the words end up spilling out of your throat, oddly honest. ”it’s been a while since i had the chance to make breakfast for someone else.” 

it’s strange, really, how intent you are on seeing this through. how much effort you’re putting into making him stay. you barely even know him. actually, you don’t know him at all — all you know is that his smile makes you happy and his strength makes you envious. that you aren’t afraid of him, even though you probably should be.

something about him just feels safe.

“i’m pretty good at making pancakes,” you hum, a small smile playing at your lips. polite, jovial. pale light flits in through the window and slips into its curve. ”do you want some? before we go to work.”

(something in his fingers twitch, when you say that tiny word; pancakes. a little tell. you just barely catch it, before it sputters out. before he reels it back in.)

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, a rubber band bound to snap.

gojo stands there, a very subtle contemplation etched into his features. behind him, your cats begin to scratch at the couch, but you don’t scold them. just waiting for something to happen. beyond the glass of your windows, the sun unfurls in the sky, stretching its arms to envelop the world.

he grins, suddenly. soft light reflecting off the white of his teeth. cocky, composed. not quite performative, a little more natural.

“well, if you insist.”

he strolls over to your side, just a tiny bit sluggish, lazy steps and comically long limbs. he must still be tired. but he takes a seat, right across from you, plopping down on the chair with an effortless air of confidence. lighthearted, leaning his elbows on the table, crossing his legs under it. comfortable. settling into his role.

you’re pleasantly surprised.

“how would you like them?” you ask, and you think some of your excitement may have spilled out with the question. if it did, gojo doesn’t comment on it. ”your pancakes.”

“with chocolate chips, please!” he shoots you a sweet smile. “and whipped cream on top.” 

so demanding. for some reason, it makes the corners of your lips quirk up. kinda like a bratty younger brother.

“got it.”

the smell of dark chocolate hangs heavy in the air as you get to work, shuffling around the open space. all while gojo waits, patiently, tapping his foot under the table and staring out the window. leaning his jaw on the heel of his palm. listening to the humming of nightingales on the branches of the apple tree down on the ground, and the buzz of your old radio.

the kitchen fills with motion, sounds, smells. life. splotches of sunlight, crinkled cartons of orange juice. the clinking of plates. two tired adults, seated at the same table, indulging in a fleeting peace and the promise of something new. something almost concrete.

a small, precious moment. enough to make your fascination shift into something you know must be fondness. or close to it. 

gojo grins at you, mouth full of pancakes, eagerly telling you about something the kids did last week. wolfing them down, chocolate smeared over his bottom lip. you laugh, and suddenly the world feels a little safer than it should. a little more intact.

you wonder what it means. where it’s going to lead. this feeling of something wonderful beginning, something you couldn’t stop if you wanted to.

a budding connection.

the city lays blanketed beneath a layer of thick snow. blurry pale dots dancing in the wind, obscuring the sky, frost engulfing every building in a bone chilling hug.

with a slight shiver, you dig your hands into the comfort of your pockets, seeking the fleeting warmth you find. admiring the frozen landscape before you, the hustle and bustle of people going about their day. the saffron light of the lamp posts, the glittering snow by your feet, the skeletal apricot trees and their bare branches. this monochrome city you find yourself in.

gojo exhales. strolling cheerily down the street, in tandem with you, a frosty breath to your left that scatters and melts into the open air. it smells minty.

today, he’s wearing black shades — like he usually is when you meet outside of work. it’s kind of nice. when you angle your face a certain way, you can almost see the blue pooling in his eyes, the white of his eyelashes. 

he’s beautiful. he always has been. but like this, you think his beauty is simply unfair, highlighted by the winter wonderland you find yourselves in. mesmerizing, the red flush of his cheeks, how he hums along to some jolly tune playing from a little corner store further down the street. all bundled up, in a stylish overcoat and a nice scarf, untouched by the snowflakes fluttering about. 

protected by his infinity, always. the silly god you call a friend.

he looks content, despite the cold that keeps nipping at your bare skin, smiling widely. blabbing on about the movie you’re about to watch, how he saw it back in high school but never thought it’d get a remake. how his friend thought it sucked but that friend always had bad taste so his opinion is irrelevant. how he has faith that you’ll like it.

(cute.)

distracted by the pretty man so close by, close enough to touch, you don’t look ahead. maybe just a little bit entranced. which would be fine, if you didn’t happen to be walking on the right side of the street — 

crashing straight into a lamp post.

”owch!”

it’s sudden. and it’s a harsh collision, enough to leave your nose stinging, an ache that makes you whine. cursing under your breath as you take a couple steps back, hands reaching for the part of your face that took the brunt of the hit. 

and gosh, is this embarrassing. you dance on the edge of death for a living, and here you are — whining over walking into a fucking lamp post. because you were too enamored by the beauty of your own coworker to pay attention to your surroundings. 

a coworker who is currently looking at you, silently. having failed to warn you in time, stuck in his own memories, caught up in his in-depth, spoiler-filled review of a movie he’s been waiting to watch all week. 

for a moment, all he does is blink. long eyelashes fluttering, like a dove flapping its wings. 

then he starts laughing.

scratch that — gojo is downright cackling, thoroughly amused by your clumsy mishap, like he just saw the funniest thing in the world. laughter ringing out into the cold air, white breaths to compliment the red of your burning ears.

asshole.

with a harsh furrow of your brows, you attempt to look angry; but before long, your lips are curling up. infected by his joy. a soft punch to his shoulder is all you manage, biting back a little puff of laughter. you’re embarrassed.

(so embarrassed you don’t even notice how he puts his infinity down.)

”don’t laugh, you piece of shit!” you hiss, grinning even still, flushing and trying to ignore the curious glances you get from passersby. ”it really hurt!”

but gojo doesn’t stop. doesn’t even attempt to. you think he just grew even more amused, if anything, practically bending over from how hard he’s laughing — clutching his stomach.

”sorry, sorry — ’m just…” he tries to speak, taking deep breaths in between bursts of giggles. ”how the hell — how’d you —” 

he stops trying. laughing, again.

and it’s a genuine laugh. a little wolfish, spilling out from his pretty parted lips, showing off his sharp teeth. from the very bottom of his gut, clear and bright, deep and infectious. melodic. shades close to slipping off the bridge of his nose, eyes tearing up behind them. trying to collect himself, muffled giggles turning to soft vapour in the cold air. dimples visible on his rosy cheeks.

and suddenly you can't think, can't speak, can only look at him and wonder how a human can be so very beautiful. how it’s metaphysically possible. like a crushed cluster of stars was given human form, a body of celestial light.

he looks so young, like this. a millenia younger, no weight on those broad shoulders, no immovable wall to separate you both. he looks like one of the guys you used to hang out with in middle school, running through corridors and play fighting and holding back shared laughter in the library. before the bite of the world left a mark in your skin.

he looks like himself. like someone pulled the mask off, and all that’s left is the human. none of the godhood he was saddled with at birth.

while you’re busy staring, gojo finally finds his composure again. wiping at his glassy eyes, a chuckle slipping out here and there. distracted by the breathtaking sight, you begin to forget the sting of your collision — until you feel something warm trickle down your chilled skin. 

searching for it with the pads of your fingers, you feel a trail of wetness beneath your nose. and when you bring them down, to get a look, all you see is red. 

”ah.”

gojo moves closer. maybe just a little alarmed, by the blood dripping from your nose, staining the white of the snow beneath your feet. a chilling contrast, one you’re frighteningly used to. it’s almost comforting. blood on your skin, that sting of pain clogging up your nose, enough for you to get lost in. colours melting together, memories rising to the surface —

when suddenly, something touches your cheek. 

one large hand goes to keep your jaw in place, gentle. smooth leather, sneaking under your chin, lifting your face up ever so slightly. warmth trickles from his fingertips through the fabric, and you can smell a hint of his perfume. strawberries and vanilla.

gojo looks at you fondly. wiping the blood from your nose, smudging his expensive gloves. from this angle, you can see his eyes, a blue shimmer in an evening painted white and gray — the sole flicker of colour in this monochrome city. they’re crinkled at the edges.

he looks awfully amused.

(you stay still, not breathing, like any slight motion could have him pulling away.)

”careful,” he croons. so low you barely hear it, almost a purr. the word has a soft underbelly, something you don’t need to dissect to feel.

a sentiment that seems to simmer in the air around you, drifting past the little corner store, a dog tied to a lamp post, your reddened cheeks. past the blue of his eyes, a peripheral that stretches to cover the city before you. words too heavy to speak aloud.

stay safe for me, silly.

then he’s letting go. sudden, the bite of the air replacing his hand. it lingers on your skin, like a memory, like the ghost of a memory. but it’s there. strawberries and vanilla, leather and warmth. something kind. warm.

and it stays there, even as gojo takes a step forward, no longer facing you. walking confidently, the wind bending around his tall stature. long legs and large steps, leaving an imprint in the snow for you to follow. a northern star.

he turns his head, and grins. hair tousled by the breeze, white locks glittering with snowflakes. ”you coming? it’s starting soon.”

a moment passes. 

”or do you need me to call shoko?” 

you puff out a breathy laugh, at that, stumbling forward. reaching up to wipe more of the blood sticking to your skin. sniffling, but smiling, teeth peeking out between your lips.

”yeah, yeah,” a roll of your eyes. ”’m right behind you.”

gojo’s eyes crinkle, disappearing behind his shades when he straightens his back and raises his head. moving forward, while you follow; his back turned to you, snowy hair melting into the white all around you. like something out of a painting. 

with a pep in step, you catch up to him. eager to hear more of his voice, his memories. still basking in the warmth of his hand on your jaw.

a touch from the untouchable.

gojo’s lying on your couch.

he usually is, to be fair, so it shouldn’t be surprising. kicking his legs up, watching tv — or sleeping, snoring loudly, like the couch belongs to him. like your home belongs to him. like he pays rent, and doesn’t just laze around and devour all the sweets in your kitchen cabinets.

(he’s there so often that you’re starting to wonder if you should give him a copy of your keys, or something. but you have a feeling that’d be just a smidge too intimate for him to ever accept.)

this time, however, gojo is doing neither of those things. 

he’s on your couch, but he isn’t manspreading, or draping himself over the leather with a lazy grin. he doesn’t have that air of effortless confidence. and it’s palpable, in the air, the open space, enough that you can feel it. an itch on your skin, a lump in your throat. you could practically feel it as soon as you walked through the door.

he isn’t wearing his blindfold, or his shades. he isn’t even smiling. and gojo is always, always smiling.

you think he might be having a rough day.

even the cats are noticing that something’s off. jumping up in his lap, trying to comfort him, brushing against his legs. purring, when he cradles them close — always so gentle with them. hands petting down their backs, softly, the same hands he uses to rip out the throats of curses and curse users alike.

then they mewl and run away. and for once you wish they wouldn’t, wish they could keep clinging to him like they always do. just to make him feel better. right now, in the state he’s in, you wouldn’t even mind gojo’s usual smug declarations of how does it feel to know they like their papa best? 

you can’t help but feel unsure of yourself. gojo isn’t doing anything, and he isn’t saying anything. he’s just lying there, on his back, eyes closed. letting the darkness of the room engulf him. drowning in his own thoughts.

he must know that you’re there. he must have heard you come in. but he isn’t saying anything, and you wonder if that means he wants you to leave him alone.

you’re reminded of that one morning. when he woke up on your couch, and looked more human than you’d ever seen him. how you wanted to avert your eyes, how wrong it felt to see a god rouse from its slumber. 

(but you know better now.)

hesitantly, you begin to inch closer, step by step. quiet, floorboards barely creaking beneath your weight. tentative, as you settle down on the couch. brushing against the infinity between you.

gojo’s eyes flicker open. like an old tape beginning to play. they still shine with that same brilliance, they always do, but now you think they look just a little dull. a little red.

a moment passes. agonizingly slow.

before you can properly think it through, you’ve done it. almost on instinct, jumping the gun before he has the chance to cover everything up with jokes and laughter. opening your arms; a silent invitation.

gojo only stares. 

his gaze moves down to your outstretched arms, and then up to your face. your pursed lips, nervous eyes, worried crease between your brows. one second passes. two, five. you stop counting.

for a moment, you’re almost certain that he’s about to get up and leave. that he’ll flash you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, walk out the door and then never return. like you flew too close to the sun, just another icarus too mesmerized by the glow of his grin to notice your melting wings. like you stepped over the fragile line that separates his bones from yours, his heartbeat from your greedy hands.

— but then he sluggishly gets into a sitting position, and doesn't look at you.

when gojo collapses into your embrace, you’re so surprised that you almost forget how to breathe. almost forget your own name, forget whose home you’re in, why your arms are wrapped around a pale man. all you can think of is how warm he feels, how he’s like a weighted blanket against you. how he trusts you enough to come so very close. 

cheek pressed against your chest, arms loose around your waist. no infinity, no barriers. just a single touch shared between two damaged human beings. 

a brief inhale gives you the composure that you need. air flowing into your lungs, your brain, as you settle into a comfortable position. no words leave your lips; you just continue to hold him, one hand on his back, testing the waters. letting him hear the echo of your heartbeat. unsure, the both of you, but something about this feels right. close to right. almost there.

gojo is stiff. when you strain your ears, you hear a sharp intake of breath, and a full body shiver courses through him. a tremble of his spine. like he’s itching to run, like he doesn’t quite know where to put his hands. so painfully unused to a proper embrace. 

(a little like a frightened fawn.)

a tender something unfurls within your chest, and you feel almost devoured by the fondness rooting itself into your beating heart. delicate, as you begin to brush away his tousled bangs, leaning close. pressing a kiss to his forehead, glistening with sweat. letting your lips linger on his skin. 

he’s pale, shining in the bleak moonlight cast from the translucent curtains of your living room windows. pale like a ghost. and there are dark crescents beneath his dull eyes.

nightmares, you surmise. they haunt him too, don’t they? of course they do. 

eyes brimming with emotion, you gaze at him; quiet as a mouse, closing his eyes. leaning into your touch, ever so slightly, breathing out a sigh tinged with pure exhaustion. and a certain realization washes over you, akin to a tidal wave, sudden and inevitable. so obvious it’s funny.

you’re not a god at all, are you? 

a coo slips from your lips. barely a sound, more like a soothing breath. warm against his cold skin.

you’re just like everyone else. just as fragile.

one of your thumbs goes to smooth over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. so, so gentle. like one wrong touch could have him crumbling into little grains of stardust, spilling out over the worn leather of your couch.

there are so many things you wish you could say to him. so many things you’ll never be able to say, because you’re afraid that if you give him too much it’ll scare him off. like love could burn him if it were to leak out too fervently. like it’s burned him before. 

so you don’t say anything. but you think it, you repeat it inside your mind like a prayer, and some part of you thinks that’s enough. i’ve got you — a whisper that you don't dare to voice. 

one gojo still manages to hear, somehow, if the way he tugs you closer and snuggles into your neck is anything to go by. a shaky exhale brushing against your collarbone.

(if you feel something wet touch the skin of your shoulder, you don’t mention it.)

you simply hold him, and don’t even think the thought of letting go. even though it takes him hours just to fall asleep, hours you spend anxiously wondering if he’ll change his mind and pull away. but he doesn't leave, even though his body may want him to, and that's enough, and you don’t let go. not even once. he stays cradled to your chest the same way you’d hold a tiny puppy, something fragile. something you need to handle with care.

and when his heartbeat finally mellows out, when you hear little barely audible snores flow from his lips, you finally begin to relax. melting into the couch beneath you, watching him get the rest he deserves. praying that any nightmares of his will be given to you instead.

sleep comes, eventually, to the both of you. tangled up on the couch, him on top of you, comforted by the flutter of each other’s heartbeat. by the warmth of another human being. safe in each other’s arms.

(the next morning, through hazy sunshine and the clinking of coffee cups, he teasingly tells you that just satoru is fine.)

it’s barely daybreak when satoru wakes you up.

a rude awakening, to say the least. he pulls out all the stops, intent on not letting you sleep even a second longer; poking at your cheek, pinching them when that doesn’t work. tickling you, blowing cold air into your ear, flopping down on top of you like a big dog. anything to rouse you from your deep slumber.

and he just will not give it up. no matter how hard you try to ignore him, no matter how many times you swat him away with your duvet pillow or turn to bury your face into the sheets. that’s how satoru always is, how he’s always been, how he hopefully always will be — an absolute pain. one you wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

so, when he starts whining for you to just wake up already, voice tinged with a sadness that tugs at your heartstrings, you find yourself opening your tired eyes. all while he murmurs on and on about something unintelligible, still trying to bribe you.

”i’ll make you coffee, okay? just get up. c’moooon.”

”… what time is it, satoru?” is all you mutter, voice leaving your lips in a raspy, disgruntled fashion. stirring a little at the promise of coffee. 

he cracks a grin. ”don’t worry about it! just come with me.”

despite your grumpy attitude, and the ungodly hour at which satoru shakes you awake, you find yourself letting him scoop you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. placing a hot cup of coffee in your hands, made just the way you like it, before grinning mischievously in a way that has you feeling ill at ease.

and ten minutes later, you find yourself on top of a hill. overlooking the woods, and a big lake below you, no city lights visible no matter where you turn — god knows where he’s taken you, but it’s pretty.

breathtaking, even. all frost and wildlife and peace, sweet solitude, tiny flowers blooming on the patches of grass around you. a murder of crows takes flight in the distance, scattering into the indigo of the sky.

gojo grins, boyish and bright, excited breaths turning into vapour as he speaks. awfully proud of himself. 

”i can’t take you on vacation, but —”

he drags you with him, arm looped around your own, plopping down on the ground. not before taking off his jacket, to cover the ground beneath you. grass tickles the skin of your palms, as you comfortably spread your legs, making sure to sit as close to him as possible.

and your heart softens a little.

because he’s mentioned it, before; how it’d be nice to go on a road trip, someday, just the two of you. all around the world, wherever the wind takes you. basking in that feeling of freedom. it’s no more than a fever dream, though, with how busy satoru is, the responsibilities you both shoulder.

so this’ll have to do. that’s probably what he’s thinking.

”the sun’ll rise soon. it’ll be pretty, i promise,” he beams, so close that you feel his warm breath on your skin. that you can see the dimples on his cheeks, his barely visible freckles.

”oh, so that’s why you woke me up so early.” 

his smile widens. ”nice, right? i wanted to surprise you. d’you like it?”

a smile blooms on your lips, in tandem with his, honeyed and content. indulgent. gojo looks at it, and immediately knows your answer.

”yeah. it’s really pretty out here,” you face forward, taking a deep breath, fresh morning air entering your lungs. cool and crisp, stirring your sleepy mind. ”kinda nostalgic.”

satoru hums, and follows your lead. looking ahead, admiring the beauty of an empty world.

the big lake looks like a mirror, from here, glittering in the peripheral of your vision. the sun licks at the frozen sky, not quite breaking through, not entirely ready to rise — but it paints everything a rusty gold and you can almost feel spring shining through, taste it on your tongue, that promise of something better, something more concrete. a warmth you don’t have to question. 

a warmth that’ll stay with you for a long time to come.

it takes about ten seconds for the man by your side to start speaking, again, shattering the peaceful silence. but you don’t mind. his voice is nice, a mellow melody to your morning-fatigued brain.

side by side, you wait for the sun to rise. sharing hushed whispers and laughter, like two kids having a sleepover. like nothing exists but the space that cocoons you, wraps you up in a nostalgia so palpable the entire world feels like a fond memory.

(it makes you feel a millenia younger.)

satoru giggles like a child, telling you about something shoko said, or something megumi did, and you don’t miss a single word that spills from his glossy lips. hanging on to every word he’s willing to give to you. 

he looks so unbothered, like this. eyes crinkling, humming some tune you don’t recognize, like a little nightingale ready to take flight into the skies.

you part your lips, admiring his features. every patch of skin you can see. words making themselves manifest, hungry to see inside his brain, to know more about him. a fascination that’s never quite left you — though now you think it may be better described as love. ”hey, satoru?”

at the sound of his name, he turns to you. the weight of his eyes feels so light, like this. those blessed eyes staring into yours. he tilts his head, a smile playing at his lips. ”mm?”

”if you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be right now?”

satoru blinks.

he looks at you, a mild surprise flitting through the lines of his face, as he takes you in. measures the weight of your words.

then he smiles, again. lopsided, almost a smirk, rich with amusement. a hum buzzes in his throat, like a butterfly itching to break out.

”.. you teasing me?” 

a huff fills the air. ”it’s a genuine question!” you insist, moving your leg to nudge his own. ”c’mon. anywhere in the world. i’m just curious.”

another hum. he narrows his eyes, playfully, biting at the inside of his cheek to hold back a chuckle when that makes you grumble. pouting softly, tilting your head. he’s amused, you can tell. 

but he closes his eyes, lashes fluttering, glimmering with morning dew. and you can tell he’s taking you seriously. tasting the question on his tongue.

something shines in his eyes, when he opens them again; crinkling at the corners, soft lines of crows’ feet. you can almost see that burst of aquamarine, breaking through the black glass of his shades. like the laws of physics can’t contain it. and he smiles, as always, a smile so beautiful you wish you could live on the curve of his lips. flimsy, no teeth peeking out, no dimples to admire. but sweet. slathered with honey, as sincere as can be.

his voice comes out a little raspy, tainted with a tinge of fatigue, a smokey residue that sticks to the walls of his throat. but it's genuine, like he just woke up, like he's too sleepy to be dishonest. like every word he says can be no more or less than the absolute truth.

and when he turns to face you, tilting his head enough for you to see that shade of blue you love so dearly, his eyes shine with an honestly so palpable you feel like you’re being devoured.

satoru parts his lips.

”right next to you.”

a moment passes. silent, endless, no sound to be heard but the beating of your own heart.

at last, the sun breaks through that layer of frost, peeking up from the boundary of the world — and the morning begins to thaw. streaks of sunlight cascade down the contours of his handsome face, painting him a mellow gold, and it’s almost enough to distract you from the warmth of his hand finding yours. 

for a moment, satoru looks unsure. smile shifting in the light, into something slightly stiff, and you know that means he's nervous. silent, as he wets his glossy lips. pink tongue tasting strawberry chapstick. 

then he’s leaning forward. 

it’s chaste, the kiss he plants on your forehead, soft as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. but it lingers, even after he’s pulled back — a warmth on your skin. a silent declaration.

he doesn't have to say anything. when you look up at him you can see the red flush of his ears, and when you strain your ears you can hear all those unspoken whispers. the sentiment neither of you will ever have to say out loud, because you know. it’s there. and it means everything. 

and you know that for as long as you live, you’ll both have this. one single thread of normalcy, in your unorthodox existences, one single glimmer of something almost entirely good. something that heals, something that isn’t a blessing and a curse all in one. something soft to the touch.

there’s no need to find the right words for it. there never was.

”kinda looks like melted ice cream.”

the words pull you out of your stupor. satoru’s looking at the sky, and you follow his gaze, watching the sunrise in tandem with him. 

it’s beautiful. soft clouds melting into pinks and oranges, dappling sunbeams lapping at the trees, a saffron shade washing over the empty world in front of you. a world that may not be so empty, after all, because you hear crows in the distance, and someone’s fishing by the lake, and you think you spot a squirrel in the tree closest to you. 

and you have someone, right next to you, right by your side. someone who won’t ever leave.

sometimes, loving satoru gojo feels a little like strolling on the edge of a cliff. like one wrong step could have you tumbling down, a mess of broken bones and unspoken words. but if you do stumble and fall — you know he’ll be waiting at the bottom of the precipice. arms outstretched, wearing that same innocent grin, ready to hoist you both back up.

so you know it’ll be fine.

swallowing down a bout of fresh laughter, like a flower unfurling in your chest, petals brushing against your ribcage, you give in. opting to bask in the moment, in his presence.

”yeah,” you puff out a chuckle, head slumping against satoru’s shoulder. he makes a little noise of approval, and your grin grows. ”it does.”

he doesn’t say anything. smiling, wordlessly, admiring the way the sun kisses up your collarbone. lighting up your face. and you bask in his warmth, how right it feels to be tucked into his side. how safe he feels, even now. how safe you make him feel.

you look at the man to your left, and he looks back at you, and that wonderful unnamed something unfurls inside your chest again. and, without having to speak it aloud, you know it will continue to do so.

many, many years later, he’ll still be satoru, and you’ll still be you. the distance between you will be what it always was; breachable.

and that will be enough.

#someone sedate me i giggled while writing this. im so in love w this stupid weasel #this is rly just my attempt at writing a more canon-aligned gojo and the kinda-sorta relationship i could see him having in canon #i firmly believe that he’d feel most at peace w a love that sits somewhere right between platonic n romantic !! #”me n the bestie <3” (selfie of u wearing matching rings) #its the kinda love that u dont need to label bc its just There. its just love !! a love that comes easy #im happy w how this particular gojo turned out i think!! :'3 hes my lil baby #in other news hes so bambi coded ☹️ i need to nurse him back to health #listen to capable of love by pinkpantheress btw its so gojo to me #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[whatimdoing-here]

WARRIOR NUN | Ava calling Beatrice, "Bea"

Request from my @commander0fmyheart but who wouldn't want it.

#warrior nun #wn spoilers #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #L I S T E N #the first time ava said it in ep 1 i was like 'WAIT HAS SHE CALLED HER THAT BEFORE' #so then i have a headcanon that somewhere in that two months when they were becoming besties #ava just said it one day and it stuck #because she says it whether she's happy sad frustrated... all of it #the LAST TWO THOUGH destroy me #also that bea's plague ava also used 'bea' #i just can't i can't #mine #mine: warrior nun #look tag vomit lmao #not quite every instance but close. #again the last two... from 'sorry i gotta do this' #to 'sorry i had to do it and now it is done'

[probably-not-a-rutabaga]

i offer one of my favorite frames from aberration short so far,, just to show that i am indeed making progress :]

#y'all the full thing has to be done by april 12th #i am going to scream #so like #yay !!! it'll be done soon !!!!! #but also.. nooo..... it's not gonna be super smooth and nice animation bc i had to use short cuts n shit 😔 #also the backgrounds are lowkey not great rn.. i'm probably not gonna fix them unless i have time to spare #ON THE BRIGHT SIDE !!!! #i have wonderful voice actors.. a bestie who's helping me color stuff... and the power of silly cartoons to get me through this #okay- tag rant over !! just very excited for y'all to see this once i'm done with it :D

[lomltrentarnold]

belly — jude bellingham ₊˚ෆ

summary : jude hates nicknames but somehow it’s different when you said it or maybe it’s because jude has a soft spot for you.

🍓hana’s notes : got inspired by jude’s sleeveless pics hehe tell me what yall think <3 they’re just so in love with each other its sick || MAIN MASTERLIST

Jude didn’t have a lot of nicknames growing up. The most people would call him was Judey or Hey Jude. So imagine his surprise when one day you suddenly have come up with a new nickname for him.

“Belly!”

Your voice rings across the training field. multiple pair of eyes turned to look at you and your cheeks became warm at the sudden attention. What were you think was going to happen when shouting?

You sheepishly smiled at the players and coaches, apologising at the sudden interruption. “Sorry.”

Jude’s head snapped towards the familiar voice, seeing you fidget between your feet when you noticed that everyone was looking at you. He chuckled and shook his head, “I’ll be back boys.” he said to his teammates. Pretending like he didn’t hear a faint go get em lover boy, after he excused himself.

Your kept your head down to avoid being blinded by the sun. A sudden shadow figure loomed over you, conveniently blocking the sunlight from your vision.

“What are you doing here?” Jude asked, a smirk on his face at the previous moment.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at him, “Wipe that smirk of your face.” you threatened. You were embarrassed, yes. But he didn’t need to rub it in.

He laughed, the weird part of you felt proud that you were the reason.

“Your ma sent me.” you explained, “She was wondering if I could come and pick you up. She forgot she had plans to meet up with her friends.” your sighed, pulling the strap of your bag back up as it kept sliding off your shoulder.

Jude nodded his head, “Oh, okay, then.” he took your sling bag off your shoulder and onto his when he noticed it kept slipping off. “I think we’ll finish in about two hours.” he nudged his head towards the tent that some of the staff were sitting at, “Wanna sit over there?”

You nodded as you both walked towards the empty seat. Not noticing the knowing looks that his teammates were sending you guys.

Jude placed your bag softly at the side of an empty chair. “You okay, here?”

You took a seat and smiled up at him, and Jude hates that fact that he felt his heart rate pick up at the sight.

“Yeah, I’m good, Belly.”

Jude shook his head, “You have to stop calling me that.” as he scoffed out a laugh.

You smiled, “But you look too cute when you’re shy.”

“What? Because of you?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I am not shy.”

“Oh? I don’t make you shy?”

“No.”

You stared at him which lead up to a little staring contest. It was normal like this with Jude, lighthearted teasing with no real intention (at least that’s what you tell your self) and waiting for someone to break first.

“Bellingham!”

You broke your eye contact when his name was being called.

“Stop your flirting and get back to training!”

Laughing, you look back at Jude to only realise that he was still looking at you. Brown eyes all mischievous and… fond. Huh, that’s new.

Jude smirked, making his smile lines show “I win.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s not fair. I was distracted.” pointing to the coach.

His eyes trailed all over your face, up your eyes, down your nose and to your lips. It leaves your face all warm and your mind all mushy. The sun helps illuminate his skin, glowing and shiny from his sweat. His biceps bulging in a way that has you wondering what would happen if you hold it in your hand.

Whoa, this is all very new.

Since when did Jude Bellingham got you feeling giddy?

You tried to ignore the way it made you feel, more so because it was embarrassing to admit to yourself that you have been feeling more of these feelings around him.

You needed to get a grip. He’s your best friend.

His voice broke your train of thought, “I was distracted, but I still won.” he mumbled, eyes boring into your soul as he tries to gauge your reaction.

The teasing wasn’t new, so why were you getting nervous?

“Bellingham!” the coach yelled again.

Jude flicked your forehead, making you scrunch up your face. “Hey!”

He starts to walk away backwards, sending you a wink that have you rolling your eyes fondly, “Don’t miss me too much!” before turning around and jogging back to the training field.

You shook your head, puffs of laughter escaping your lips, “Idiot.”

Looking towards the field, you immediately made eye contact with Jude again. He waved at you, which you responded with a wave yourself. Smiling at you before almost tripping over his feet.

Your idiot.

#˚ʚɞ˚ belly! #hana writes! #this is queued #im just a sucker for childhood besties to lovers <3 #and the teasing 😫😫😫😫 #please tell me what you think <3333 #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football x y/n #football imagine #football x reader #football x you

[aeb-art]

even in a story with reader insert, i'm still putting myself in there separately ahahaha so here's another lil thing with some of @venomous-qwille's characters

and then the moment they leave the room:

#2024 #i love cricket a whole lot tho i see them more as their own character over an insert so that's why i'm not them here 👉👈 #also this is funnier to me okay cool cool cool #gitm #ghost in the machine #gitm soleil #self ship #self insert #gitm cricket #gitm y/n #gitm fool #i wanted to test how my wrist feels so i used soft B pencils (which i forgot i had lmao) #i think i might be able to paint tomorrow or friday? (busy thursday so) we'll see #anyway i finally drew soleil! weight lifted off my shoulders.... i need to draw something scary with him when i feel better #i also just wanna cover him in kisses i love him i need to annoy him #man i am incapable of not yappin in the tags huh #anyway take care of your arms and wrists and hands that's an order xoxoxo #edit: I JUST REALIZED FOOL'S CRESCENT IS THE WRONG WAY GOD DAMN IT okay my fault for not using a reference i'm sorry bestie

[couch-house]

bought some more bootlegs at a mall kiosk and decided well, CLEARLY this isn't silver and amy... they must be original characters do not steal :)

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #sonic oc #my ocs #hermes = mercury = quicksilver btw. he wants u to call him that so bad #hermes is more fleshed out bc hes the one me n bestie brainstormed over. i did tulip just now #she's definitely half hedgehog bc she actually has a back quill. and ears. #id in alt text

[m1d-45]

wandering

summary: my scaramouche pulls, but make it sagau

word count: 1.8k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru (3.2) archon quest, author has not done 3.2 archon quest but had been spoiled by tumblr :/, probably ooc scara. based entirely on me and my prior pulls (pulled miko, pulled + built childe, has an itto), like two swear words?

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3

< masterlist >

scaramouche didn’t know what to think of the stars.

he’d kept an eye on them, out of curiosity, watching as constellations rose and fell, rose and fell, their cyclical nature never ending. he never saw any importance in them—not even when he heard of the forest watcher in sumeru being used as a vessel and his glass heart twisted—and hence never paid any attention, focusing on his mission in sumeru. he kept a passing eye on them, sometimes trying to guess how long the current rotation would be up during particularly boring fatui meetings, or trying to guess which constellations would light up when the stars began to fall.

after a while, he began to pay a little more attention to the patterns. he didn’t know why, but suddenly they drew him in more, even as he rolled his eyes whenever tartaglia boasted about a star crossing his constellation. never mind that that guuji from inazuma had hers too, no, he was the one that mattered.

and he was probably right. his bow had been replaced, he was a better shot than ever, and his water blades burned with skill. even the tsaritsa noticed his increase in strength, irritatingly, sending him a letter of congratulations on becoming a vessel. he’d even spent a whole day drafting a three-page letter to his family detailing it all, all the new skills and power he’d picked up by being with you.

what made him so favored?

he pulled down the brim of his hat, repressing the need urge to look up at the sky. he’d never been one to believe in astrology, or astronomy, or whatever that witch in mondstat wanted to call it. he wasn’t going to start now, not when his whole plan in sumeru was close to toppling.

he arrived at his camp. he accepted reports with a scowl. he marched to his office. he glanced through the window. he sat down.

he didn’t know why he was being so contradictory. he’d never felt this before towards anything, let alone something he actively despised. there was no reason for this. at all.

scaramouche picked up his pen, pulling over another dull report. the words bled together, the handwriting atrocious, and he was tempted to burn it. the only thing stopping him was the knowledge that it meant he’d have to ask for another from whatever recruit turned it in.

he tapped his pen on his finger. it was hard to focus, unnaturally, and he chalked it up to the weird feeling that’s been bugging him all day; the same one that wanted him to look at the stars. he sighed, adjusted his hat, glared at where a tassel caught on his chair, and picked up a pen again.

‘troops near chatrakam cave…’

purple eyes glared at his page, at where the ink bled a bit as he left his pen too long. what was his problem?

his eyes flicked to the window, to the curtains waving in the breeze coming though.

‘…have encountered no problems. all…’

‘…all…’

‘…all is going gwe-‘

scaramouche slammed his pen on his desk with a loud groan, standing from his chair and sending it skidding back. with stomping steps, he approached the offending window, reaching to shove the pale green curtains aside. he fumbled once on the lock but quickly pushed open the whole window, removing his hat to put his head through and glare at the sky.

“what the fuck could you possibly-…”

scaramouche stared.

his steel tongue was stilled, no quick remark or scathing quip coming to his mind. his thoughts were empty, his mouth suddenly dry as he looked upwards.

at his constellation.

he knew the moment he received a vision—how he wanted to see it shatter—that he had one, the image filling his mind alongside the elemental abilities. he knew what it was, he knew it’s name, he knew the six stars that composed it and the lines drawn between.

he didn’t know it was in the sky.

but there it was, blue stars shining brightly next to some orange bull, almost mocking him as he looked up at them. in his disdainful study of the stars, he knew that only a few were delegated to the prime positions in the sky, and that the latter of the two had been rotated in already. even if he didn’t, the way it’s stars outshone his made it clear.

curses rose and fell on his tongue, like a relentless tide that dared him to speak whilst taking away his air.

he knew what having a constellation in the sky meant. he knew it, and it was why he tried earnestly to destroy it the moment he got over the shock when he received it. he wasn’t picky about power, but power that came at the cost of being another gods puppet?

he’ll pass, thanks.

so to see himself in the sky, to know that at any moment strings could be tied around his wrists once more, that he could be jerked and pulled across a stage of another’s making-

the stars shone brighter.

his office fell away, his hat slipping from between his fingertips.

no.

he reached for it, he reached for his last semblance of a shield—he wouldn’t need it—from another god, but he barely felt the fabric before it was gone.

a white haze surrounded him, vaguely bubbling into clouds far beneath his feet as he stood on an invisible platform. a blurry rectangle was far out in front of him, a distorted voice warping through.

“-i have 45, that makes… i just have to get lucky, then…”

the voice was soft- you were soft, urging him to relax even as his rational mind fought. he could feel his heart speeding up in his chest, feel the war of emotions clouding his thoughts.

this wasn’t fair. you didn’t get to show up, after everything he’d been through, and expect him to fall into your lap. you didn’t get to do that, not to him, not now, not ever.

how he wished you’d catch him.

stars lit up the sky, one after another, and he saw one of them cross a flower-like constellation. you ooo’d and thanked whoever it was for answering—as if they had a choice—and sent out more stars, more wishes, the dust certainly fogging his head.

your voice grew clearer the more stars you summoned, his heart rate increasing in turn. how many did you have? would he be forced to go? why did he want to? would you wrap your divine hands around his and pull him into your team? why did his paper front of a soul leap at the idea?

emotions he’d never felt filled his chest, heat and warmth and icy frost pooling in his veins.

“50,” you called, voice alarmingly gentle in his ear. “please, scara, please?”

he should be proud to have a god so high begging for him. he should cross his arms and puff out his chest, he should smirk and glare with a comment about how even the divine can fall.

he was one of them.

“60,” you whispered, flaring the boil in his chest.

what did he do? what could he do? how did he get out of here? why didn’t he want to? what were you doing to him? what were these feelings? why did he never want them to fade?

“70. please? pretty please?”

he felt himself lurch as the star passed but gripped desperately to the invisible air around him, wide eyes searching for a way out. it was all clouds and stars, as far as he could see, with vague shapes slowly coming into focus around him. he saw something that he thought would direct your attention elsewhere, then realized it would take your gaze off him would only be temporary and saved his energy.

“80. come on, scara.. i promise i’ll be nice.”

nice? he wanted to laugh. he would have if he wasn’t so short on breath already- and yet somehow still lightheaded, his vision swimming as his fingers began to buzz. he could feel it, the invisible rope around his chest pulling as the purple stars whizzed by, and yet he held firm in his place amongst the clouds. he couldn’t answer you he wouldn’t be able to stay composed. he wouldn’t allow himself to be put under another’s jurisdiction again but he knew you were different, you were warm and soft and so different from her.

you would not have him yet.

you were not his god you were his true creator.

you laughed. he hated loved that it was edged with bitterness.

“damn. making me go to the shop again, huh?”

he wanted to apologize tell you it was a lost cause.

“well scara… 4 more wishes. i know it’s useless but… please?”

one.

the pull knocked the wind out of him, his treacherous to who? hands faltering their grip on the walls around him. in the blue light of the stars, he knew he was flushed with exertion.

he could feel it, the chance he was given. the choice to stay, to hear your voice falter and slip and plea, or to go. to answer the string pulling at his heart of glass, to trust and hope that you wouldn’t betray him like so many before.

two.

did he dare believe you? did he dare to trust the only one he could another god, to put his cracked trust in your palms and hope you wouldn’t drop it? did he go against his rules, did he follow the reputation he had built up, did he cling to the clouds before crashing down in regret his office?

who knew if you could be trusted? if he went, you’d have two harbingers under your thumb. what if you wanted to topple the fatui? what if this was a ploy to get him to trust you? what if you didn’t treat him like you did childe or any of the others, what if you wanted him to laugh and scorn and taunt? what if you wanted him just to see him try and pick himself off the floor where he landed, expecting nothing and yet still disappointed?

what if you wanted him for him?

three.

enveloped in gold, the wanderer could only wish that you would catch him.

#AY #I KNOW I POSTED TODSY AND ALL #AND I KNOW I HAVE 7+ OTHER REQUESTS TO DO #BUT I JUST GOT THE WANDERER #SO…. HERES THIS #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #self aware genshin #scaramouche #wanderer #sagau scaramouche #sagau wanderer #my other gifts; journal; aviator glasses; clock puzzle; camera #genshin impact (2020): aye boss; we know it’s ya birthday n all: here’s a man with mommy issues and a god complex #he insults you when you run or use his burst; you’ll love him! #i do. thank you mhy 🙏 #he’s my THIRD ANEMO DPS but i don’t care. me n the viridescent domain are besties (lying through gritted teeth) #ALSO THIS IS MY THIRD/FOURTH WON 50/50 IN A ROW?? sagau is real #YO AND LAST TIME I GOT MIKO AND CHILDE WITHIN 20 PULLS EACH?? god has favorites and im one of ‘em /j #oh and the readers dialogue here is a lie. i was calling scara a bitchand a rat fuck (affectionate) the whole time. #doesn’t make for a good fic though so. eh. #also i am on my hands and knees BEGGING you to do this man’s trial and spam his burst. it’s so pretty omfg— #WHO gave him the pretties burst in game??? i need to send them a loving letter IMMEDIATELY #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader

[francarieq]

time ⭐︎꩜.ᐟ

#dhmis #dhmis fanart #dhmis teachers #dhmis tony #tony dhmis #tony the talking clock #dont hug me i’m scared fanart #dont hug me im scared teachers #don’t hug me i’m scared #take a dewdl i made #hi babbiz have a great day!! take care <33 ily all #im going 2 sleep naow good night y’all #n for all of u babbiz who just woke up good morning besti😋 may ur day be full of fun ⭐︎ #buh bye y’all xx

[ghost--girlfriend]

them <3 and COVE

#🌼 my art 🌼 #🌹 Gold Star 💫 #🌺 Beginnings & Always 🐚 #🌹 romantic f/os 🌹 #🌺 platonic f/os 🌺 #our life #our life beginnings & always #derek suarez #cove holden #self shipping #self shipping community #self ship #SORRY ofr stacking on the tags <//3 everybody look at this now for some reason my fatigues been bad lately #so it tookforever to finish this tfgyjh #my boyfriend n my bestie... if cove had asked i wouldve let him take a sip but nooo! gotta be a sneakster rtdfgyjuhk #those third wheel pictures are all kind of them :) BUT WE'RE ALL A GROUP BABEY !!! #me and derek are just dating were all close which is nice ^_^

[becauseplot]

As this event comes to a close I will say that one thing I’m gonna miss are the long stretches in streams where people are effectively just chilling in vc with each other while playing the block game. Like yeah proximity mod exists, but nothing beats watching Philza casually dig up sand or chop bamboo while listening to the antics of Etoiles and Roier (and the rest of team bolas) hunting down BBH going on in the background. Peak playing-minecraft-with-friends experience.

#qsmp purgatory #team bolas #idk it’s just so nostalgic for me #me n the bestie playing on our private world together #them fishing while i go down into the caves with nothing but a stone pic two porkchops and a dream #that’s the life baybee

[samstarium]

editing total drama is the best the thick outlines make it so easy

#edits #icons #pride icons #td #total drama #total drama island #total drama 2023 #ty freshtv for givin me a break. i love the owl house but that is a struggle to edit lmao #also ik everyone loves nonbinary mk n dont get me wrong. very good hc i see that too #but she felt so trans girl to me #also millie is a lesbian n priya is bi but i dont ship them theyre just both gay n besties #k thats all my notes #oh i forgot the gay flag is my own but if u follow me u already knew that #suppose i should say that for all the total drammers... dramaheads?

[descendantofthesparrow]

Once Upon a December - The Invitation - Walter x Reader - P1

first vampire/the invitation fic les gooooooo NOTE HEAVY SPOILERS, DOES FOLLOW THE MOVIE/PLOT CLOSLY...that is until it dont, i’m a sucker for happy endings~ 

(i specialize in Thomas Doherty characters x readers so if i wrote something wrong no i didn't) 

=

They said I was found by the side of a road, there were tracks all around; it had recently snowed. In the darkness and cold with the wind in the trees A girl with no name, and no memories but these

-

It was dark, cold, and wet-that’s all you could remember-the flashes of fire and lightning, the echo of screams, a hand in yours, pulling you to what seemed to be safety, and then…gone. Someone screaming a name that-seemed to be yours, their voice sobbing and desperate as they drifted away until you couldn’t hear them anymore.

“(y/n)-NO-(y/n)!!!”

You don’t know how you got separated from them, they seemed to care a lot about you, just from how they screamed for you. But you could recall your foot hitting something-metal and slippery, and you fell; hitting your head. You had a nasty scar from it to this day.

You woke up to what felt like-hundreds of years later but couldn't have been more than a few weeks realistically, you couldn’t remember anything, only your name, your age, and the feeling that you were missing something…or someone-by your side.

All you had was a ruby crystal, silver stems and thorns holding it tight to the leather cord around your neck with two small letters engraved into the gem. ‘H.D’. Along the silver vines was another engraving, in the same style as the first except it seemed to simply be an extension of the last letter.

Deville.

It was so simple; you had the initials and the last name. All you had to do was match the name to the person, but-even after years of searching, be it through books or the internet; nothing popped up. A clue that led to nothing, it left you to wonder; who was this H. Deville?

And could you find them? Could you discover your lost past?

It seemed like a long shot, since this-Deville didn’t seem to exist, not a single search engine had any answers, not even a family  tree to maybe help you find them.

Maybe this-Deville had disappeared in the same incident that had caused you to lose your memories 10 years ago, you sighed remembering the day you woke up; all alone on a roadside, freezing cold with snow covering you and the forest surrounding you.

You had wandered into the town nearby, a kind family taking you in and warming you up, giving you new clothes, and doing their best to help you. But with no memories, and no account of-who you were other than your possible name-they couldn’t. Somehow you ended up in new York, homeless and doing your best to survive.

That is-until you met Evie Jackson, your now roommate and one of your only friends, whom you had met during a catering job and hit it off pretty quickly; when she heard about how you were homeless and just looking for a place to crash until you could save up for your own place, she offered her apartment.

You had told her many times that you were grateful for her offer but-you couldn’t just-take half of her space, especially as someone she just met. But she insisted and now here you were, four years later, still living together.

With your combined paychecks, you had been able to move out of her studio apartment to a two-bedroom only a year after you met/started living together, and you were both just scraping by, doing your best to survive in a world that didn't favor you. Evie was a wonderful girl, smart and kind, with a wonderful sense of humor, and wicked ceramic skills. Your favorite thing from her was a beautifully made vase you always made sure to keep stocked with flowers, she had made it for your first birthday in the apartment. You did have to admit, you did cry.

You were just grateful that you had someone, two people in fact, that you cared about so deeply and they felt the same; you wouldn’t trade Evie or Grace for all the riches in the world. They made you feel just-so much less alone than you really were, a girl with no memories of her past other than voices and snow.

You were ripped out of your thoughts and memories as Evie walked into the apartment, sighing heavily as she kicked off her heels and gently threw her backpack onto the couch; before plopping next to you with a raspberry “long day?” you asked, knowing Evie had to work at this boring catering gig about a 10-year anniversary or whatever. She just groaned, leaning into you and hugging your arm.

You laughed gently, squishing your cheek into her head “Long day. I made pasta if you want it? Ravioli~” Evie perked up, opening one eye to get a good look at you “it’s that uh-lobster and ricotta cheese one I bought a few days ago, made some garlic rolls to go with it too”

Evie hummed, realizing the smell of garlic and lobster still waved about in the small space that was known as the living room and kitchen. “yes please” Evie muttered, huffing as you slipped out of her hold to go make her a bowl “Can you get me a Fanta too? Please?”

“Yep yep!” you called back, taking the leftover pasta out and heating it up in the microwave, sticking your hands in your hoodie pockets as Evie went to her room to change, sick of the full black outfit she had been wearing for hours on end. You took out Evie’s preferred pasta sauce and an orange Fanta, getting one for yourself as well; eyeing up the chocolate cake that was inside the fridge before closing it and finishing up Evie’s bowl, setting it on the counter with a re-toasted garlic roll on a paper towel.

“Orders up!” you yelled down the hall, laughing as Evie made a sarcastic laugh, coming back out of her room in a comfortable-looking set of overalls and her hair up. “Thank you (y/n), I really appreciate it, today was just-guh” Evie muttered, giving you a quick hug before collecting her food and drink, plopping back down on the couch to eat.

She un-paused the movie on your laptop and you sat down next to her, the two of you enjoying the near silence as you watched the cheesy vampire “horror” movie you had pulled up. By the end of it the two of you were cheesing it, sharing the small bottles of wine Evie had brought back in the little goodie bag grace had scored.

“I mean, who would be scared of that?” Evie snorted, gesturing to the goofy-looking vampire with obviously fake teeth and horribly done hairline. “man’s looks like Dracula on meth” At this you cracked up, sliding down the couch as Evie smirked in victory, finishing off her bottle before standing up to go wash her bowl “Thanks for dinner (y/n), really” you smiled at her and gave her a thumbs up, sitting up to change the movie as Evie washed up. “I’m gonna do some ‘pottery’” Evie mocked, using air quotes as you rolled your eyes “I said I was sorry, Ceramics~” you teased, having referred to her art as pottery only once and she still made fun of you about it to this day. Evie stuck her tongue out and sat down in her chair, taking a chunk of clay and slapping it down on her table.

You glanced at her as a few minutes later she made a frustrated noise and smushed down the bowl she had been making, pulling it up with the cord and throwing the clay with its ruined brethren. You looked away as she sighed, wiping her forehead. “Please tell me there's more mini-wine bottles in that bag” Evie muttered, standing up and walking over to you, holding her hand out as you grabbed the back and checked.

“Two more” you muttered, handing her the bag and looking away as she muttered thanks and took out one of the two wine bottles “You okay?” Evie shrugged, fiddling with her necklace like she always did when she was feeling alone. “You still have clay on your hands.”

Evie’s eyes widened and she yelped, looking down at her now clay-covered necklace and slamming the wine bottle onto the table, rushing to go wash her hands and necklace. You took a paper towel and cleaned the bottle before setting it back down on the table, resting your feet on the table as Evie walked back in, rubbing her face with her now clean hands.

“You wanna talk about anything?” you asked as she grabbed the wine bottle and the bag, smiling softly as she shook her head “Okay, I'm one doorway away if you need anything, okay?” Evie smiled at you, nodding as she turned to retire to her room “Goodnight Eve”

“Night Anya” you rolled her eyes at her nickname for you, but if fit; you matched the fictionalized Anastasia all too well. You just hoped your story would follow her’s in turn. Soon enough you were going to bed, passing by Evie’s room to hear her mother's voice faintly through the door. You frowned, knowing Evie was feeling just as lost as you did, she had no biological family left, simply floating by in life; just as you were.

You fiddled with the crystal hanging from your neck, thumbing the engraving on the vine “H. Deville” you whispered, sitting on your bed and leaning against the wall. “Just who are you?...who am I for that matter” you muttered to yourself, letting your hands fall and your head flop into your pillow, curling your hands to your chest to hold the necklace close.

“I’m never going to find out who I am” you whispered, feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you fell into a dream-filled sleep of grand parties and a soothing voice in your ear, strong hands holding you close.

-

A week later, you, Grace, and Evie were in the living room, Evie scrolling on her laptop to find a movie while Grace helped herself to some white wine. “Did you ever go out on a date with that bartender guy?” Grace asked, Evie made a gagging noise, sticking her tongue out as you giggled, curling the leather cord of your necklace between your fingers.

“I’m ignoring his texts” Evie muttered, looking back at her laptop screen as she switched over to her email, unable to find anything interesting to watch. Even your cheesy horror movies looked boring. Grace frowned, turning to Evie with a shocked look “why? I thought you said you liked him! Didn’t she (y/n)?”

You nodded, giving Evie a teasing smile as she glared at you for helping Grace mess with her “Yep, she said, and I quote ‘oh he’s cute’~ think I can get his number?’ with a capital c” you said almost proudly, and Evie chuckled a pillow at you, rolling her eyes as you giggled “For someone who doesn’t remember a lick of her past, she’s got our words down pact” Grace laughed, sitting next to Evie as she rolled her eyes and you blew a raspberry at Grace.

“I’m just-not-I can't handle the new York dating scene right now” Evie muttered, sipping at her coffee when her email pinged, Grace agreed with her opinion on the whole dating thing. “it is exhausting” Grace hummed, tilting her head as Evie blinked in surprise at what she found in her email. “What?”

“Yeah, what? You gasped like when you got 500 bucks off that lottery ticket” you asked, repeating Grace’s question as you moved from the love seat to sit on Evie’s other side. “I got a cousin!” Evie proclaimed, leaning back to show you and Grace the screen.

Well, there it was, right on the screen; Evie had a 2nd cousin, Oliver Alexander. “Impossible he’s white as hell” you muttered, laughing as Evie pushed at your shoulder. “What she said, that is the whitest man I’ve ever seen, and he’s British” Grace said with a small laugh, watching as Evie read what Oliver had messaged her.

“He wants to meet up” Evie muttered, licking her lips in thought as Grace choked on her wine “A stranger? On the internet?” Grace said with raised brows, as if the idea was stupid “mm-mm, you’re not doing that” Evie tried to justify it, stuttering on her words as you leaned closer to the laptop, clicking on the ‘family tree’ to see how she was related to this, Oliver.

“He’s family” Grace just gave you a look that said ‘and?’ which made you snort a bit, slapping your hand over your mouth and nose to let Evie go on without making her feel like she was being made fun of; because you both knew how important finding her family was to her.

There was a reason you got along so well, especially after her mom passed away. Evie continued, glancing back at her laptop “And-I don’t have any” Grace hummed, pursing her lips as she looked at Evie, mostly teasing but she didn’t want Evie to walk into something that was only going to get her hurt.

“Oh, so you wanna be catfished? Oh, interesting” Evie let out a small scoff at Grace's playful yet serious words, shrugging a bit as she gestured to Oliver “I mean-look, he’s wearing an ascot. What could he possibly want with my broke ass?”

“Your kidneys?” Grace joked, still kinda serious as you let yourself laugh, Evie rolled her eyes at Grace’s wild guess “That’s probably exactly what this site is, tinder for unassuming organ donors” Evie laughed, shaking her head as she clicked ‘read more’ on Oliver.

“Well, he’s British, they’re all absurdly polite” Evie muttered, pursing her lips as Grace snorted, standing up to move to the love seat. “Yeah cause they’re wracked with colonial guilt! Doesn’t mean you need to mistake that for good manners.” Evie nodded, turning to you; playing with your necklace as you stared off at nothing.

“What do you think I should do?” Evie asked quietly, and Grace leaned forward; because you would know what Evie was going through the best, both of you without families and feeling lost without a map. You hummed, glancing between Oliver and your necklace, before you smiled.

“I think you should meet him, if just to meet him and know you have family. You don’t need to get all-buddy buddy, but-you know” you shrugged, leaning into Evie and resting your cheek on her shoulder “just make sure you meet in a very public place and update us about everything. British or not dude could be dangerous” Evie snorted, patting your head as Grace pointed at you.

“Exactly, if you do go through with this, keep us updated, he’ll make a group chat even.” Evie rolled her eyes again “you keep doin’ that you’re eyes gonna get stuck” Evie stuck her tongue out at grace as she stood to make sure dinner was ready while you leaned forward to check the family tree again, seeing they were related through Evie’s great grandmother Emmaline.

“maybe I should do this, see if I have any family” you muttered and Evie shrugged, playing with her necklace as she glanced between the family tree and Oliver's message.

Finally, she took the laptop from you and clicked the ‘respond to message’ bubble, taking a deep breath before she started to type.

-end of part 1-

 yeeeeeeeeeeee im hyped for this, I've been thinking about it since i first saw the invitation~ just-ah~ inspired by Anastasia, Beauty and the beast, nnnnnnnnn...idk my stupid brain XD

idk who wants to read this soooo no taglist yet? this isnt my Harry Hook stuff so no perm taglist...if anyone wants to be tagged just lemme know i guess?...okay byyyyyyyyyeeee

#the invitation #Walter Deville #Evie Jackson #x reader #Walter Deville x reader #Walters original name is Harrison #i can do what i want its a fanfic #ill let him keep the deville #but walter is a dorky ass name #memory loss #immortal reader #evie n reader are besties #happy ending #some angst to come up but its a vampire horror movie of course theres gonna be angst #watch me write walt as Harry when it comes down to it i know i will XD #i do the same with Jeff i just fuckin write all Tommy's as Harry XD #Harry is the blueprint

[dailykugisaki]

Day 106 | id in alt

Kugisaki Nobara, the Biggest Okkotsu Yuta hater.

#dailykugisaki #jjk #kugisaki nobara #Inumaki Toge #The besties are back af!! #i missed them high-key #they kinda either feed their egos or start roasting eachother. they do pranks with each other and may or may not aggressively snitch too #they also help eachother with fashion n i loaf them #why does Inumaki look high I'm goin to weep #IGNORE #i am indifferent abt Yuta which low-key heavily leans into dislike tbh so not rly indifference is it #trust me is about how he is wack and mainly how i don't really like his personality i just #he is a geasy looking boy!

[thegirlsarethriving]

just finished undertale. ok i see the vision. i now understand yall's Sans-to-Benrey obsession pipeline. and the Papyrus-to-Tommy Coolatta pipeline

#undertale #hlvrai #hlvrai2 #benrey #tommy coolatta #papyrus #benry #hlvrai benry #sans undertale #sans #undertale sans #undertale spoilers #i loved Papyrus so much and the whole time i was playing i was like hmm he reminds me of someone...? TOMMY. HE REMINDS ME. OF TOMMY. #i played pacifist but i saw how if u kill every1 n spare Papyrus Sans tells him every1 else is on a vacation bc truth would be too hard #file under: lies Gordon would tell Tommy if anything happened to Sunkist or his dad Gman #we wanna protect Tommy but on the other hand. the horrors r everywhere & Tommy go ham with a gun (he's terrified & acting on pure instinct) #(even tho Tommy has definitely faced his share of horrors in contrast to how Papyrus's loved ones try to shelter him from bloodshed) #i wanna write a paper psychoanalyzing Sans and Benrey in comparison to each other SOOOOO badly #it's been a hot minute since i last watched hlvrai (have seen it at least 4 times but not recently. did watch bbvrai live tho!) #im so extremely tired rn so i can't form proper thoughts :( but like: #they both have unfathomable otherworldly power and knowledge of their respective universes #but u wouldn't know it bc they're presented as just some chill guy who likes to make jokes and Vibe man #sike! they're a being of elderitch levels of power #they both act in accordance to game code but Sans can control parts of it (can see the timeline) while Benrey is much more subject to it #in some ways they are the antithesis of each other's motives but also contain the same vibes (all-powerful guy laidback n funny final boss) #Sans is judgment but doesn't interfere with the timeline. Benrey takes action that's “i knew this was gonna happen” #Benrey is fought as the final villain whereas Sans is arguably the final hero fight #anyways THEIR VIBES ARE BOTH SO !!!!!!!!!!!!! #idk if they'd be besties or mortal enemies #they can bond over being “unserious” (but they both take their true jobs very seriously. security guard and judgment bringer respectively)

[littlecutiexox]

.

#i dont think i got it #i had another call today too about a different job and the salary is too low for me to be commuting an hour and a half every day on the tra #n with #i have another call in an hour #for a different one #and applied to more places today #so ive applied to i think more than 200 jobs now in the past week and a half #i do have an interview for a different kind of role though in 2 weeks booked in #which is something #im so stressy besties #theres been so much noise today too my sensory overload is screamingg #i gotta be social after work too #and i just wanna lay in bed #but i cant #thank you to everyone that wished me luck #this silly little blog makes me feel so loved and cared for from the people on here #my friends and partner have also been super supportive and its the only thing keeping me from freaking out right now