#so much fluff lmao

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

��do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”��

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#u both catch a cold the next day <33 #anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life #shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance #i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3 #hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao #i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child … #what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince….;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈 #mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Rockstar!Baji x Popstar!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, jealousy (on the fans' end), arson because it's Baji ♡

note: this was an anon request that I no longer have (oops I did it again) but I remembered it 🙃 also expect two more sets of Baji headcanons before the week is over 🙌🏽

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🎸 Baji and his band is already super famous and you had made a pretty big name for yourself in the pop industry

🎤 When you and Baji started dating your fans flipped out, you two were like the stereotypical bad boy and girl next door

🎸 No one expected your relationship to last, they were all anticipating for you to come out with a break up song any day now

🎤 That day never came obviously because you and Baji are perfect together, an absolute power couple in the music industry

🎸 I can already hear the song collabs in my head

🎤 You've sung backup vocals in a few of his songs and he's even helped you with writing

🎸 You two are each other's inspiration and biggest supporter

🎤 Meet and greets are so chaotic because you two plan them together, his female fans are extremely jealous of you and his male fans are jealous of him because he bagged himself a bad bitch

🎸 Baji is so much calmer around you, it's not even funny (he's still a crazy vampire arsonist tho, that'll never change)

🎤 He likes doing extravagant (and dangerous) things for you, one night he built a papermache heart, doused it in gasoline, lit it on fire, and held it up outside your window like a lunatic (Chifuyu and Tora helped him do it too)

🎸 You two stay out of the public with most of your relationship, but you do post a lot of random selfies on your social medias (a lot of random stray cats too because it's Baji and what else would you expect)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #baji fluff #baji x reader #baji headcanons #I love him so much 😫 I just wanna give him a little kith 😚 #can't believe I went the whole time without mentioning him biting you lol #I must be sick or sum lmao 😭

[samglyph]

Ghost Hunter AU Part 2/2

Prev

For @malevolent-monthly , IDs in alt text by @shadow0haven

Thanks for reading ;)

Tip Jar and Commissions

#my art #malevolent monthly #fanart #malevolent fanart #fan art #malevolent #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #parker yang #parker malevolent #John doe #on a technicality #no one tell me how cameras work I DONT CARE #there were so many people yesterday tagging #oh Parkers so cute I love Parker I can’t wait to see more Parker. can we get an f in the chat #I won’t apologize but I’m sorry for leading to you believe that this was purely fluff lmao #anyway I spent so much time on this please clap #violence cw #blood cw

[dovesick]

fluffy playing guitar

#anthro art #furry art #anthro #cat art #cat furry #my art #my ocs #various animals #a hard angle to draw #i saw this cool photo & thought yea i should try that #so i stuck my head out a window & started playing guitar #jk #fluffs has a bit of a deathwish lmao #i like drawing plants so much more now that i simplified them #i used to draw them a lot…but more detailed #& it destroyed me after a while

[catdivorce]

had to do squilf too ofc

tried to pick all diff ppl this time for variety

actually had som trouble findin unique squilf designs that werent toooo complicated but mayb i didnt dig enough so

@murdermitties @lemonstars-cat-blog @cagedcats @bristlefrostfan @twistedclaws

#my art #warrior cats #wc #squirrelflight #wc design meme #squirrelstar #hardest part of most adaptations to my style is the cheek fluff lmao #i exaggerate it so much

[lxkeeeee]

—scaramouche x fem! reader

fanart by @MNCE_o at twt

“Soulmates? What a load of bullshit.”

“I do not need a man and I am perfectly fine without ever meeting him.”

Spoiler alert: they really wanted to meet each other.

—two people were destined to meet each other the problem is... They're from completely two different timelines.

His countdown timer on his wrist -1,920,000 hours and hers is 1,920, 000 hours. They didn't have any hope in meeting each other, thinking it was a cruel joke made by fate itself... If only they knew.

CHAPTERS:

CH. 0 — PROLOGUE

CH. 1 — LITERALLY FELL IN YOUR ARMS

CH. 2 — IT IS NICE TO FINALLY MEET YOU, SOULMATE

CH. 2 — IT IS NICE TO FINALLY MEET YOU, SOULMATE (HER POINT OF VIEW)

CH. 3 — HOME SWEET HOME

CH. 4 — GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER

CH. 5 — FEELINGS

CH. 6 — LOVERBOY

CH. 7 — DOMESTIC STUFF

CH. 8 — WE'RE NOT MARRIED... YET.

CH. 9 — MOVING OUT

CH. 10 — MOVING IN

CH. 11 — I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU

CH. 12 — SHIT... I'M SO TOUCH STARVED

MORE CHAPTERS TBA...

Chapter titles are subject to change.

Plot is fast paced, love at first sight, soulmate au.

©lxke 2023

PLAYLIST | CHARACTERS | CH. 0

taglist: open<3 (colored means I couldn't tag you 🥹)

@vxcmx @k1an4a @lazy-sanns @ulquiorraswife @luciledreamz @magica-ren @featuredtofu @sketcheeee @im-the-ruler-here @scarasbaby @veekoko @zxdksimpo @beriiov @kiokiee @ylapsha45 @alatusorrow @c3rtifiedsimp @lyzisbitchingagain @xtobefreex @ayuaraye @rororomi @sheraffim @neesachan

#—SOULMATES? WHAT A LOAD OF BS [MASTERLIST] ©lxke

#god i hoped i did the math right #lmao #idk lmao #i spent so much time overthinking if im doing the math right #or if my grammar was okay #cuz i was having doubt on which one to use #between -44858 days ago or 44858 days ago #and some how it ended up with me overthinking what should the number in his wrists would be #anyways #i decided to yolo it #new fic I'll probably not finish #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche headcanons #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche angst #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche #—SOULMATES? WHAT A LOAD OF BS— [MASTERLIST] ©lxke

[miya-rin]

"i can't believe you got in a fight.”

“he hit me first, you just expect me to stand there and take that?"

a small chuckle leaves his mouth at your choice of words, standing between you parted legs osamu has been patching you up after a ‘small mishap’ with one of your classmates.

"obviously not, its just…" his voice trails off as he rummages around in the first aid kit until he finds an alcohol wipe, gently tearing it open before swiping it across your cheek, you wince in discomfort and he gives you an apologetic look. "sorry — its just, you're not really the type to hit someone, like i know you can defend yourself but cmon, you knocked him out."

"deserved."

"you really are something else." he laughs as he starts to dig around to find something else to slather over your face.

"thankyou."

"not a compliment."

“i'm gonna take it as one."

"i knew you would."

"yeah yeah whatever, you would have done the same.”

“oh yeah totally.” he picks up a tube of antibacterial cream and gently starts to apply it to the cut on your cheek, making sure to be extra careful as to not put too much.

“thankyou by the way.” he tilts his head up to look you in the eye for a split second before focusing back on the cream in his hand.

"hm?"

"for cleaning me up and that, thankyou."

"yeah well you probably wouldn't have, the blood would just be dried up all over your hands and face.”

"oh shut up," you let out a light laugh and by god you sound amazing "i'm not that bad."

"sure, whatever you say.”

the room elopes in silence — comfortable silence, the kind where you're not too worried if someone speaks or not, and yet you do.

"say, how long have you been dying your hair?"

"oh, i'm not sure, wh-" his words are cut short as he feels your hands snake up his undercut and into the dyed strands atop his head. shit he thinks, he so badly wants to look up at you, but he knows that if he does he won't be able to look away.

"it's really soft, what conditioner do you use? it must be good for it to not be completely dead."

"yeah." he stutters slightly, but just enough that you might not have been able to hear it. god he hopes you didn't hear it.

he still doesn't answer your question, staying quiet for a good minute or so before you decide to take action. gently tugging at his hair, an indication for him to look at you, he puts down whatever he was fiddling with and his eyes meet yours. they're a lot wider than normal, he almost looks scared, but from the dusting of pink spread across his cheeks you can tell it's something different. hes nervous.

“osamu, did you hear me?” the way you’re lightly scratching at his scalp turns him to putty in your hands. “i asked you a question.”

“uhm..i started dying it when i was like 13? so about 5 years now. and whatever conditioner my ma brings home.” you hum in approval as you continue to mess around with his hair.

“you know…i should probably finish bandaging you up.” he makes a start at grabbing some plasters to put over your bruised and bloody knuckles, avoiding eye contact even harder than before.

“wow, you wanna get rid of me that quickly? youre cold osamu.”

thats gets him to look at you.

“i never said that.”

“dont act dumb now, i heard you loud and clear.”

“youre putting words in my mouth.”

“oh so you’re accusing me now? this isnt the osamu i know and love.” as soon as that last word falls from your lips osamu burns a crimson red from his face to his neck and probably lower, choking on his spit and trying to catch his breath. if only you had your phone on you.

“you what?” he can finally speak by the looks of it.

“i love you. dont act like you didnt know.”

“yn, tell me youre joking.”

“are you rejecting me right now? thats a mean way to do it dont you think?”

“are you kidding me? ive had a crush on you since we were 15.”

“i know, why dont you do something about it?” you say with a sly smirk. he still looks on edge at the whole interaction, but theres no time like the present.

he lifts up his large and calloused hands to grab both sides of your face before bringing you into a sweet but passionate kiss, it doesnt last long as you are both conscious of the fact that anyone could walk into the schools medical room, but it is just enough to leave you both satisfied after years of pining. pulling away you are met with that boyish smile you fell in love with all those years ago.

“now that i think about it, im kinda glad you got into that fight…”

“so am i.”

#the end is very rushed so just ignore that #this has been in my drafts for months and i got sick of looking at it LMAO #i hate drabbles so much #this didnt turn out the way i wanted it to at all #lav.posts♡ #haikyuu #hq x you #hq imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #hq osamu #hq miya osamu #haikyuu miya osamu #miya osamu imagine #osamu imagine #osamu drabble #haikyuu osamu #osamu x you

[stardustvanfleet]

Here With You - Jake Kiszka x Reader

FLUFF blurb. 937 words.

You wake up with a terrible cold, but your boyfriend Jake is here to comfort you. He's got you. this is entirely self-indulgent because i have an awful cold i mean what

tagging some of my jake babes @sinsofstardust (thank you for encouraging me to write this and for beta reading!! i love you court!) @sparrowofthedawnsworld @texas-bbq-pringles @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @tommie-gvf @lightmylove-gvf @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @heavens-hearken

soft tender jake begins under the cut <3

“Jakey… I’m… I’m not feeling very well.”

It was morning, and you had only just woken up in the bed you shared with your boyfriend to a splitting headache. Normally, the only sensation you were accustomed to as you shook away the curtains of sleep were Jake’s arms around you, but today waking up was accompanied by an overwhelming achiness and stuffiness that was impossible to ignore. As you spoke, your words came out raspier than you had intended, but perhaps that was to be expected with your lungs, throat and nose feeling as miserable as they currently were.

Jake, still spooning you with his lips pressed sleepily to your shoulder, sat up a bit straighter at your words, his arms tightening around your waist. His voice was still thick with sleep, and tender with concern, as he asked softly, “What’s the matter, honey?”

You turned over onto your back so you could face him, his hands remaining around your waist as you cuddled into him in this new position, and looked up to meet his gaze. Even through the uncomfortable pressure in your head and the raw feeling at the back of your throat, you couldn’t help but smile a bit as you made eye contact. Jake’s presence alone was comforting in that way. He had slept in one of his old t-shirts, with his silver chain necklace tucked underneath the soft cotton. Somehow, the way his hair was tousled from the pillow made him all the more beautiful.

“I think I’ve got a cold…” you started, but you were cut off by a sudden coughing fit, and Jake pulled you closer into his chest as your lungs struggled for a moment. The fabric was thin, and you could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. A sense of calm washed over you as Jake held you through your coughs— and when you finally caught your breath, you looked back up at him sheepishly, adding, “...it might be a bad one.”

“Oh, baby… my sweet girl… I’m sorry,” Jake murmured, keeping one hand on your waist while the other reached up to brush your hair out of your face, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You hummed, sighing contentedly, melting into the feeling of his arms around you, and how safe he made you feel. Jake was leaving chaste, gentle kisses across your forehead now, moving across your temples to your cheeks, still speaking softly to you between each one. “Don’t you worry about a thing today, okay…? You won’t have to lift a finger… I’m gonna take care of you, baby… whatever you need… I’ve got tea, I’ve got soup…” Jake’s voice trailed off for a moment as he pulled back only for a moment— grinning a little at the look of adoration on your face, chuckling under his breath with endearment, before letting his hand cup your cheek ever-so-tenderly. “...and I’ve got plenty more of these.”

He leaned in and captured your lips with his, his kiss so slow, so loving, so gentle. You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as you smiled against him. His lips were so soft, and they knew you so well. When he finally did pull back, you were giggling despite yourself. “Jakey… I don’t wanna get you sick…”

He shrugged. “Baby, we live together… it might be unavoidable anyways. And, for the record…” He gave you a smile that made your heart swell within your chest. He was already leaning in again as he finished his thought.  “...it’s always worth it to kiss you…”

The kiss was patient, warm. A promise to take care of you. Not just today, but always. Despite the ache in your head and the burning in your lungs, a sense of peace washed over you as you kissed him back, falling head over heels once again into the familiar feeling of your lips moving in harmony. Home.

You couldn’t be sure how long this second kiss lasted— it could have been minutes —but in the end, you only pulled away to avert your mouth from your boyfriend’s as another cough forced its way out from your lungs. Jake hummed a soft sound of affectionate pity, murmuring, “My poor baby… what can I do for you right now, love?”

As you caught your breath again and cleared your throat, you let out a sigh, wrapping your arms around him and cuddling right back into his chest. As if subconsciously, he instantly pulled you in tighter, his own arms enveloping you in his warmth. “Right now, Jakey, I just want you to hold me…”

Another soft sound of satisfaction hummed from Jake’s lips as he looked down at you with those warm brown eyes, a smile on his face that tugged at all of your heartstrings just right. He leaned in to press another kiss to your forehead, saying quietly right against your skin, “I think I can manage that.”

You let your face press into his shirt, the warmth of his body and the blankets already somehow making you feel somewhat better. He’d take care of you. You knew he would. Clinging to him, you felt sleep once again beckoning to you, but Jake seemed to encourage it— letting his hand stroke up and down your back comfortingly. It was still early. You had all the time in the world.

As you began to doze off against him, you murmured out soft, sleepy gratitudes to the feeling of his heartbeat. “I love you, Jakey.” When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “I love you too… so much, baby.”

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka blurb #greta van fluff #jake kiszka #thanks so much for reading yall <3 im just. sick and soft and yearning for him lmao #li speaks #writing tag

[frooticus]

for a anon request!! they would not be normal abt eachother i love it

#i liked both versions to much so you get both cuz i couldnt decide lmao #ive not drawn scott in so long i made a new design for this and hes so cunty i love it sm #peskypoppy #scott smajor #grian #my art #also sorry if u were wanting like fluff i think grian is incapable of being normal hes like the cannibalism for love metaphores to me

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’ll go see you again tomorrow (spring is coming to an end) ; sashisu

[ part i - spring ; satoru gojo ]

synopsis; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo, who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided, wholesome n sweet overall, no curses au, gojo doesn’t know how to make friends and thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, reader doesn’t like gojo at first but dw they see the light eventually

a/n; the shoujo manga vibes are v heavy w/ this part i think. high school gojo was born to shoujo but forced to shounen </3

satoru gojo is annoying.

blunt as it may seem, it’s a conclusion you reach fairly quickly. when you first met him, you weren’t sure what to think, what to feel — a deliberate choice, on his part. looking back on it now, that’s the conclusion you come to. 

he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand. observing all of you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his name. it’s a kind of power, a safety measure.

not like it lasted very long, though.

evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. after only a day or two, he began to show his true colours, having gotten more accustomed to the new environment and classmates — and with the revelation of his genuine personality, your unease around him festered even more.

where do you even begin to describe him? he’s childish, for one. and cocky. loud, arrogant. selfish and flamboyant. just generally an asshole. you could go on and on; none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly trying to pick a fight with someone, uninterested in manners or even common courtesy. he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

gojo does have a certain presence, though. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though — you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. 

most frustrating of all, however, is that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it, gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius, even. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those blue eyes and that snowy hair. 

and he has no issue in getting what he wants. none whatsoever.

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way — it’s almost like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. evidently, he’s never once given a chance to the prospect of being a decent guy, then.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

annoying is still the most fitting word, though, undoubtedly. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone else in his entire life. 

really, you don’t understand how geto can put up with him. 

gojo said something to him, during your first week of school. what, you aren’t sure — probably some rude, untoward comment, something taunting. shoko told you about it, but you don’t know the details. 

what you do know is that they fought about it, physically. and that ever since then, they’ve been on a first-name basis, attached at the hip. it’s not often you see one of the two without the other. evidently, the fight brought them closer. you think they must be at least a little bit insane, but maybe that’s to be expected of kids who’d choose some weird boarding school in the middle of nowhere over a more orthodox choice. 

(not like you’re one to talk, though.)

geto is a little better than his best friend, at least. he’s polite, and relaxed, and easy to talk to, only ever annoying when gojo’s around. you don’t know how he manages to put up with him so well, but you get the sense that he’s the only one who really understands gojo. the only one who even tries to.

you haven’t even attempted to do so, yourself. fondness wasn’t something you held for him, from the very beginning, but every interaction between the two of you only serves to make him more and more insufferable in your eyes. 

gojo is annoying to basically everyone, always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. and you’re certainly no exception — if anything, he’s even worse with you. 

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re not as self-assured as your classmates, and you think he must have sensed it, the moment he laid eyes on you. that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

so as soon as introductions were over, gojo immediately began to push at your buttons. grinning in that cocky fashion, not bothering to hide what he thought of you in the slightest. the first words that came out of his mouth when he spoke to you were rude ones, but you can’t quite recall them, muddled together with every other unneeded comment that he’s thrown your way since. 

his behavior hasn’t gotten better, even in the slightest. gojo is always teasing you, annoying you, trying to figure out what makes you tick. almost like he’s solving an equation — the equation being you, the limit of your patience. 

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin; it’s your own fault, really, for giving him what he wants. a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. if you were more like shoko or geto, then maybe he’d leave you alone — if you could just brush him off, ignore him, not give him the time of day. deny him one of those reactions he loves so much. 

but you’re not shoko. and you’re not geto, either. you’re you, and you’ve always been particularly bad at hiding what you feel.

it’s not like you hate him, or anything. you really have tried to get along with him. but it’s impossible, at the end of the day. gojo is just too good at being annoying. 

and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. you can state his negative traits without a hitch, as well as his begrudgingly positive ones, but all of them are surface level when you get down to it. in truth, you don’t understand satoru gojo at all. 

and that suits you just fine.

you’re just gonna have to live with it. live with him, his presence in your life, disrupting what should have been your peaceful high school years. your new start. 

it sucks, but you’ve already resigned yourself to it. having to deal with him every day is annoying, yes, but what can you do? at least you get along well enough with shoko and geto. at this point, you’ve decided to treat gojo like an annoying little toddler, or an irritating pest. someone to put up with, not take seriously. 

for a pest, he’s awfully good at making you angry, though. you can never seem to maintain your composure, when he’s around. it’s not always a bad thing — the banter can be funny, sometimes. just a tiny bit. doesn’t make it any less infuriating, though.

and in the state you’re currently in, you doubt you could handle it without popping a blood vessel or two.

a heavy sigh flows from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, and your mind is muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts you’d rather not be having. 

you feel thoroughly exhausted, completely spent. and the day’s barely begun. you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, unable to slip into sleep’s embrace without being awoken by an abrupt nightmare. 

and it’s painfully evident. in your face, your posture. in the paleness of your skin, only making your vague eyebags more noticeable, and in the way you can’t help but drag your legs slightly as you walk. in your disheveled hair, in every sigh and grumble you let slip as you try to blink the exhaustion away. you just feel so tired, both physically and mentally. 

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, at the very least. it would’ve been an actual nightmare, in the state you’re currently in; having to stay up, take notes and listen to yaga drone on and on. you like your teacher, you really do, but sometimes his lectures can be just a little bit tedious.

the only reason you even bother to leave your dorm at all, in such a restless state, is so you can grab some breakfast. if you’re lucky, maybe it’ll make you feel a little less like a walking train wreck.

with that thought in mind, you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen, enjoying the sight of the cherry blossoms through the windows you pass.

you’ll manage, somehow. your morning couldn’t possibly get any worse, after all.

when you enter the space, you’re relieved to find it completely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, or even gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world, but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t really want anyone seeing you like this — tired, meek, somewhat vulnerable.

least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.

with laboured, groggy movements, you move around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. the sizzling of the pan creates a soothing melody, pleasant to your ears, as you quickly make a lazy breakfast to wolf down. 

when it’s finished, you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables; eager to enjoy the peace and quiet, at last.

but, as always, the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left, too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes across the open space is a chipper one. one you recognize. one you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

inwardly wincing, all you can do is continue to idly sip from your cup of coffee, silently going through all five stages of grief before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

that’s just your luck, isn’t it?

resigned to the sight you know you’ll see when you raise your head, you do just that — and, lo and behold, there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, wearing those ugly sunglasses, making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, as he plops down next to you like it’s nothing. unconcerned about you or your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in a sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s that teasing tilt of his, too, the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

usually, hearing him speak in such an irritating fashion would’ve put you off. maybe you would’ve given him an apprehensive look, or tried to sound unbothered when answering his inquiry — that usually only makes him more intent on annoying you, but you just never seem to learn. 

in your current state, though, you can’t muster up anything of the sort. you’re too tired, too anxious. you just want to sleep. 

and yet, despite your best wishes, here he is; satoru gojo, in all his glory, ruining your hopes of what could have been a peaceful breakfast. you can’t even bring yourself to get mad. today, you just don’t have the energy to deal with him at all.

when you glance his way, your eyes meet, for a second — not like you can actually see them, from behind his sunglasses, but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny. bright and excited. 

you allow your gaze to linger at him for a brief moment, before trailing back to your plate. ”morning,” is all you manage to mutter, before taking a tentative bite of your sandwich. 

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. and it’s a little confusing — he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff. but no such luck. you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

so, after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, studying your face, the way your fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of your cup. he’s always been observant, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

you look out of it, plain and simple. eyes unfocused as you stare into space. gojo is silent for no more than a mere moment, contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. 

did something happen?

— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, teasingly, showing off the white of his teeth.

despite the oddity of your behavior, he can’t hold it back — despite his own intuition, telling him to let you be. he can’t help it. you’re just too fun to tease. 

suguru or shoko just raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog — but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, or something to distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness in his chest.

— but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

he expects you to glare at him, or tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation. either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. traitor, is all he can think. and shoko is nowhere to be seen, either. probably off smoking in some random alleyway, listening to one of her weird indie bands.

the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years, but maybe it’d be just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. but then he entered the kitchen, and lo and behold; there you were, his saving grace. his dear old irritable little classmate. 

a great relief overtook him, when he set his sights on you. oh, thank god — he thought he was going to die of boredom. but with you at school, too, his day is saved. now he can push your buttons to his heart’s content, bask in your playful banter until suguru gets back.

— only this time, you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. all you do is continue to eat your breakfast, and drink your coffee, in silence. intent on gulping it all down quickly, so you can leave. 

gojo’s words aren’t even irritating to you, right now. barely even a hassle. you honestly can’t be bothered with him at all; he can say what he wants, you don’t care. even mustering up the energy to get annoyed feels like too much for your sleep-deprived brain.

gojo waits, for just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. ever so slightly, slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows as his lips curl down into a soft pout.

god — just what is your problem? what is with you, today? it’s no fun if you don’t play along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

whatever. he doesn’t care. not even a little bit. so what if you’re not talking to him? like he cares enough to be bothered by it. gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. not one bit.

(he hadn’t realized he’d begun to look forward to your interactions so much.)

but, really — come on. would it take so much effort to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or what, did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive. right? or is that it? what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you. that’d just be too troublesome.)

nonetheless, a strange frustration bubbles up in his chest. at your lack of reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

it’s fun when you do.

the silence lingers on, stretching out as you gulp down your food while gojo keeps on sulking. he’s still just sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, you can’t help but notice; it’s kind of hard not to, with how loud he usually is. 

but you pay no mind to it, methodically washing your dishes in silence. deciding not to dwell on it. it’s a rare opportunity, after all, one you’d be foolish not to enjoy it while it lasts. you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either, as he sits there. still deep in thought and grumbling curses under his breath. 

he watches you as you leave, gaze trailing after your form until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

no nightmares came to haunt you, this time. you practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, finally giving you some peace of mind, and some well needed rest. maybe having breakfast really did help.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than you got last night. 

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time by just rotting in bed. maybe you can take a walk around the schoolyard? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and it’s a beautiful sight — perfect to enjoy on a day like this, framed by the blue of the sky.

it’s a pleasing mental image. enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, intent on seeing the idea through, before you reach a hand out to push the door open.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of collision between the door and something else. that’s all you hear, all you feel. 

with a low curiosity simmering in your eyes, you exit the room, eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

as you do so, your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place as it lays on the floor. crouching down to examine it further, you recognize it immediately; a small carton of strawberry milk, with a plastic straw plastered on its side. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines. 

you drink it fairly often, every time you need a small pick-me-up. the sweet taste always succeeds in soothing your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it in contemplation, holding it in your hand as the gears turn silently in your head. that’s weird. did someone drop it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

….

your mind stills. 

the idea is odd, to say the very least. so odd that a part of you doesn’t even want to entertain it. but despite your inherent denial, it’s the most reasonable conclusion to arrive at. after all, neither shoko nor geto are there — and that just leaves one possible culprit.

why would he do something like that, though? he doesn’t like you, you know that. so there’s no way — right?

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you seem to like it, contrary to your classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto doesn’t go for strawberry milk if he can choose something else. honestly, it might be the only thing you and gojo have in common, the one thing that binds you two together. a single carton of strawberry milk. it’s almost comical.

(you wonder why he did it, if it’s really true. you wonder if he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you to believe that it’s true, if only because you like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. where could he be, you wonder? in the kitchen? in his dorm?

just as the question enters your subconscious, a flash of white crosses your vision. as you absently glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop, and then begin walking once more. with more decision.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging as he gazes up at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. 

the air is filled with pink petals, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights. it was almost on impulse that you walked over to him, but now that you’re face to face, it’s a little nerve-racking.

still, it’s far too late to back out now. there’s not much to do except join him. so that’s exactly what you eventually do, albeit a little hesitantly.

attempting to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

mustering up the courage to do so is tough, though. the decisiveness you felt when you decided to go see him has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re somewhat nervous to verbalize what was on your mind when you made the decision.

but eventually, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” you start, softly, not looking at him. gaze glued on the cherry trees. but you know his eyes are still on you; you can feel them, and their weight.

the carton of strawberry milk is in your right hand, and you raise it up, faintly. to get his attention. then you look over at him, not quite managing to give him a smile, but you try your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. then he turns his head away, swiftly. his hair is tousled by the movement, a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i don’t know what you mean,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard from him. he sounds almost embarrassed. 

upon closer inspection, you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. a smile finds its way onto your lips, unbeknownst to you — like this, he’s actually kind of cute. denying your implication, when it’s so obvious. 

some part of you was still a little unsure, but gojo’s embarrassment basically confirms it. 

(maybe he’s not as bad as you thought.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but can’t help but stare at him, a little.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. they’re fleeting, hard to get a grasp on. pretty, and so out of reach, despite being so close. 

you could reach over and touch him right now, if you wanted to. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul, and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you almost immediately; you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing a little further. it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles. a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate, either.

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes as they float up into the sky. as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it, surprisingly, in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. the statement catches you off guard, and you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher it. 

unable to resist the temptation, you decide to look over at him. with his eyes conveniently hidden behind his sunglasses, you can’t get a good read on his expression; he’s regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

is that why he got you the drink? 

you just can’t help it. you laugh, lightly, and this time it’s gojo who’s left confused.

”did —” you wheeze, softly, voice thoroughly amused. almost fond. you try to bite back the laughter, but it’s tough. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you, for a brief moment. a little stunned. the sight only makes your smile grow even further, as you meet his gaze, eyes crinkled. you really aren’t trying to tease him — it’s just so funny to you. so endearing. 

from the angle you’re viewing him through, as you lean back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes at last. they’re awfully pretty. blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, white splotches of colour in them. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, uncanny, but now you don’t think that’s quite true. they’re awfully soft, in the sunlight. especially when viewed like this, right after catching him slightly off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though — the moment only lasts for a second or two. 

then he scoffs, abruptly, turning away yet again. you swear that he’s pouting, a little, even if he’s trying to sound annoyed and nothing more.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding irritated as he rests his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you, and you’d bite back. but now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly. the tips of his ears turn red, again, at the sound. 

yeah. he’s really not so bad, after all.

for a while, you don’t say anything else, afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than you ever have before, and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees; childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet, sweeter than usual.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. they’re honest words, after all.

you suspect gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you’re not sure. after all, you’re not looking at him, either — that’d feel a little too embarrassing.

he doesn’t quite know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel a little unsure of himself. your tone is so soft. almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko, or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you, as always. he can’t let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though — more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you just chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and shoot something back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you mumble, tasting the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little embarrassed. ”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust from your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex, before he has to accept that it exists — only this time, he doesn’t succeed. 

the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. and begrudgingly has to accept their existence, after all.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving the confines of his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. ”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered.

the gruff sound strikes you as just slightly flustered. one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

you toss the now-empty carton into a trash can, dismissing the stray thought of keeping it as a memento of the interaction. that’d just be creepy. you are happy, though. you feel as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him, though.

there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye. hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities — it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement, to see how well it holds up. 

the lacking empathic abilities, especially. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it, a little bit. it’s there, despite everything. in those eyes, in that carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. 

all eyes on him, at all times. you think that sounds just a tad exhausting. 

as you return to the safety of your room, you still can’t help but ponder. there’s so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. 

(almost lonely, in a way.)

you wonder what he’s like when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. what is an actor without their audience?

you don’t understand satoru gojo, not really. not at all, not in the slightest.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

part 0

#i wrote this part a pretty long time ago so tbh i dont think my writing is. v good. but hopefully itll get better by the end LMAO #i love hs gojo soo much hes so cute. so shoujo manga ml. n hes so fun to write in a no curses au #i just feel like gojo is such a gift giver. physically cant apologize but throws ur fave bag of chips at ur head n acts like it wasnt him #hes so silly <33 #next part will b geto’s!!! but itll prob take a while bc my geto bias needs it to be Flawless #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[torumin]

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru Part 2

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who stays with you the entire time refusing to leave you alone. Talking to him made you believe as if you two were best friends in the school while the truth was quite the opposite.

You ask ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru to join you and some of your close friends to go get some ice cream and he gladly accepts the offer.

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who insists that you and him go in his car, to you know, "make some memories" as you don't really get days like this so often you know.

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who could have sat anywhere in the ice cream parlour but decides to sit right next to you.

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who could have ordered anything but still gets the same thing as you telling you that he just wanted to "try something new".

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who compliments your choice, telling you that you have helped him find a "new favourite".

ExClassmate! Gojo Satoru who is so invested in talking to you forgets that there are other people as well.

Tags: @satocidal @illogicallyx

#@works #imma do a part 3 soon <3 #Should I make this a series or what lmao cuz I have so much content #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo jujutsu kaisen #Gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jujutsukaisen #satorugojo

[warabidakihime]

One More Day

★ characters: dazai x reader | fluff x smut x comfort

★ plot summary: Another day, another opportunity for you and your boyfriend, who is equally broken, to conquer the world.

★ content warnings : mentions of su!cide, can be psychologically triggering, smut.

-

It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and a serene silence has engulfed the whole workplace of the armed detective agency. All you can hear is the sound of fingers tapping away on the keyboard, fresh breezes passing by through the half-open window across the room, and, last but not least, Kunikida and Dazai's never-ending banter.

You're at your desk, as usual, finishing a report that Kunikida had asked you to do on his behalf as his plate is already full. He and Dazai just completed handling a very complicated case, and now you're just summarizing everything for documentation purposes, as required by the client. 

They didn't exactly impose a timeframe, but knowing Kunikida, he wants to accomplish the work as quickly as possible so you can proceed on to the next one.

As you continued to type on your computer, you felt a shadow fall over you and two hands on your shoulder.

You didn't have to turn around to see who it was, so you continued on with your work without pausing.

As your lovely boyfriend proceeded to indulge you with a shoulder massage while watching you work diligently, a smile slowly dawned on your face.

“Aren't you working way too hard, Y/N-chan? If you keep up this pace, you'll become a second kunikida."

Kunikida glared at Dazai from his desk. "Shouldn't you be working? Have you finished your report?"

"Nope!" said the flamboyant investigator, to which his colleague scowled at him as a reply.

"You really should stop procrastinating, you know?" you joked, and then your boyfriend dramatically recovered his hand and placed it over his face as if he were in a theatrical play. 

"Oh, Belladonna, why must you subject me to tedious labor?"

"Because it's part of your job, dumbass; did you even start?"

"Nope," Dazai said with a huge smile, to which you deadpanned.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Atsushi doing the same thing, which caused you to giggle.

"You're hopeless; I have my own pile to attend to, so I won't be able to assist you this time."

"Can you resist me, though?"

"Occasionally," you said, with a knowing smile on your face.

Dazai mimicked your smile, caressed your face, and squeezed your cheeks, one of the few mannerisms he picked up after you two started dating.

"Only occasionally, because oftentimes you can't resist me and my charms."

He's not wrong, but you're not going to admit it, or it would feed his already huge ego. 

The man knows he's hot, and he knows the effect he has on people, particularly you.

"Go back to work, Osamu; if I finish my report early, I'll try to help you with yours; in the meantime, be on your best behavior at your workstation," you say, not glancing away from your laptop.

That seemed to have satiated your very needy boyfriend as he practically skipped back to his desk, but instead of behaving like you asked him to, he moved on to the next unfortunate person to bother, which is Atsushi, the newcomer.

He was the weretiger that you looked for everywhere for weeks. It was Dazai who found him. According to your boyfriend, the poor boy was kicked out by the caretakers of the orphanage he was staying at. 

As someone with a similar background, you instantly felt attached to the boy and immediately took him under your care.

Dazai was initially perplexed as to why you showered so much attention on him. He is aware of your past, but it surprised him that you would be so proactive in caring for Atsushi. A little part of him is even jealous of the fact that another person has your undivided attention.

"I guess I'll let it slide," Dazai joked after seeing you hold a weeping Atsushi after the Port Mafia attacked your headquarters for the umpteenth time. He was somewhere else when it happened, so when he returned and spotted you being intimate with someone else, he was stunned to say the least.

Curiosity got the best of you when you heard Atsushi whining as your partner annoys him to no end. You then made the decision to take a glimpse at them. You couldn't help but laugh as you watched the two, since they're so entertaining to look at right now. Dazai was obviously playing the "annoying older brother," character while Atsushi was his victim of the day.

 *

Night came, and everyone else had gone home to their respective dorms except you and Dazai. Fortunately for him, you managed to finish your report, and so here you are, instead of relaxing at home, you’re helping him with his report.

Despite being exhausted from all of your mental gymnastics today, you still have a lot of energy. 

The biggest reason could be that you get to spend some alone time with your boyfriend. Though you'd go on dates regularly and you'd interact with one another at work, you cherish every moment you get to spend with him. 

Even more so when it's just the two of you.

"Are you finished yet?"

"Almost."

"You can write whatever you want; Kunikida-kun won't notice."

"I mean, if you want to have your ass whooped, be my guest," you chuckled.

Dazai chuckled, and since his chin was resting nicely on your shoulder, his breath tickled you a little bit. You instinctively reached out to him and caressed his cheeks before going up to his hair, to which your golden retriever of a boyfriend leaned towards your touch.

"What do you want for dinner?" You asked him softly

"Hmm... let's just buy something from the convenience store. My treat, take it as a thank you for finishing my report."

You rolled your eyes playfully, turned to look at him momentarily, and muttered, "Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome." He replied merrily.

Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were through with the report. After being nearly stuck to your chair all day, you let out a whimper as you stretched from your seat. The only times you stood up were when Yosano invited everyone to Uzumaki Café for a much-needed coffee break and for your bathroom breaks. 

While you were tending to your sore joints, you heard sounds of clapping. Slightly out of your mind due to fatigue, you thought an intruder had entered the ADA headquarters, but when you whipped your head to see who it was while getting into a fighting stance, you saw your idiotic boyfriend clapping as he emerged from the restroom.

You deadpanned, "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you applause for a job well done!"

Tired of his childish jokes, you scowled at Dazai and said, "Gee, thanks. Hurry up, I want to go home and sleep."

Dazai approached you with eager, long strides and wrapped his long arms around you, his hands resting comfortably on each side of your hips. 

His voice brimmed with mirth as he murmured, "If looks could kill."

As soon as he began stroking your sides with his mischievous hands, you felt yourself loosening up in his grip.

The bandage-wasting detective effortlessly unraveled your neatly tucked-in dress shirt. You closed your eyes unconsciously and smiled softly. "I thought an intruder had broken in."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so don't scare me like that; I could have roundhouse kicked you."

Dazai dipped his head and nestled in between the juncture of your neck, making you gasp slightly. Even more so after feeling his gentle lips touch your skin in a kiss: "That could have been bad, no?"

"Yeah?" you said, mimicking his voice, to which your boyfriend replied delightfully by nibbling on your neck, knowing fully well that it's one of your sensitive spots. 

And as soon as a moan erupted from your lips, a smirk dawned on Dazai's face; he was obviously satisfied with his handiwork as per usual.

"Yeah."

At this point, the detective has you caged between your desk and him, and one of his hands has shamelessly found its way under your pencil skirt, squeezing your thighs.

"Stop being a tease." You whined at your boyfriend, whose fingers continued to ghost over your underwear, to which he replied with a dark chuckle, "I thought you wanted to go home?" 

"No," you replied in haste. You then grabbed his face and reeled him in for a searing kiss. "Overtime's not over yet."

-

"So?" 

"So, what?" 

"How was today?"

 Despite how much time has passed, you and Dazai have not gone home yet. Instead, the two of you are sitting on top of a bridge, your legs dangling over the city river.

This is one of your routines as a couple. From time to time, you would go to this particular bridge to either kill some time or wallow in each other's deepest, darkest thoughts.

It came as such a surprise to Dazai when he heard your response to him when he first invited you to his infamous "double suicides". 

He genuinely didn't expect you to ride along and actually accept his offer. And ever since then, you have caught his interest, and at first he thought it would soon pass, but as he spent more time with you, he became more enamored with you.

You were like the flame, and he was the stupid moth.

And then he learned about your story; he found himself falling deeper, and when you almost died in action, something in him snapped.

Images of Odasaku and his final moments flashed in his mind.

The thought of cradling you in his arms while you were drenched in your own blood as he failed to save you scared the living shit out of him. 

Never again. 

He thought to himself.

But despite being smooth with other women, he found himself stumbling stupidly in front of you. He didn't know how to act, because in  a way, it was his first time pursuing someone not out of any self-serving motives but rather out of a genuine desire to win your heart and become your significant other.

And because everything was pretty much new to him, he liked the challenge, and by extension, it made him feel alive. 

You basically gave him a reason to live and look forward to tomorrow.

Your boyfriend looked over the big night sky and took a heavy sigh, as if it were one of his ways of relishing the day he'd had today.

"I guess you could say the look on your face while I was fucking your mouth will stay etched in my brain for a really long time." 

You snorted, "Same goes when I rode you on Kunikida-san's chair." 

"That was your best performance yet." 

You could only roll your eyes at your boyfriend and his silliness.

“Glad I could amuse you.”

The chilly breeze continued to howl in the distance, stroking both of your hairs. 

After a moment of silence, you got to your feet on the edge of the bridge and peered down at Dazai, who was still gazing thoughtfully into the horizon. 

"Is this the day, or do you wish to live one more day with me?" 

The former Port Mafia executive didn't say anything; instead, he stood up and held your hand. 

"Well, committing double suicide could very well be a fantastic way to end this wonderful day, but the sex was too good, so I'll have to decline your offer today."

You broke off into a melodious laugh at your boyfriend's reply.

"Who knows? Maybe we can have amazing sex in hell too?" 

Dazai shook his head and pulled you off the bridge with him, and right after that, he enveloped you in another embrace. 

"Maybe next time, Y/N." 

You gladly returned the hug, and this time, it was your turn to dip your head into his neck and inhale his scent.

 "So, one more day?" you asked him

 "Yes, one more day.”

And maybe, just maybe, for all of eternity.

#surprise surprise #this has been in my drafts for months lmao #but yay here it is #this is pretty much self-indulging lol #uhhh so enjoy this drabble i guess #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #dazai fluff #dazai comfort #dazai x you #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #osamu dazai x you #btw this is my first time writing dazai :D #i hope i gave his character justice lol #kat are you proud

[lazycranberrydoodles]

thank you to @spaceacebreakface for sharing my EXACT brainwave. yay doodles based off of this

#i havent posted doodles on this blog before i dont think. if i do start doing it regularly youre getting a LOT of domestic fluff #i think about them so much #btw. my headcanon is that eventually hc’s self esteem issues would improve to where he’d take off his eyepatch. #around xie lian #so imagine this a couple years postcanon maybe #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #hob #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #doodle #sketch #mxtx #art #digital art #my art #lmao

[saleeba]

you look good in red and white ; william saliba

summary ♡ new year celebrations back home prove to be a handful but william tries his best to help you out.

pairing ♡ william saliba x bengali!fem!reader

content ♡ fluff, husband!william, reader is stresseddd and just needs a sit-down tbh, bengali words/terminology, reader is mentioned as having siblings, y/c/n = your cousin’s name, y/s/n = your sibling’s name, kissing, willo being the bestest husband ever !!!!

a/n ♡ arsenal football club are so bengali-coded pass it on 💯💯 ok so red & white are super traditional & prevalent in bengali culture + they’re ofc arsenal’s colours so i connected the dots 🤓☝🏽 (you didn’t connect shit ;-;) hehe anyway it was bengali new year this time last weekend & what better way to belatedly celebrate it than with a short and sweet wilo fic :D happy bengali new year / shubho noboborsho & i hope u all (bengali or otherwise!) enjoy this one !! ❤️🤍

“william! here, try this for us!”

no sooner than he had stepped a sandal-clad foot into the kitchen, you’re there shoving a chomchom into william’s mouth, the poor boy immediately being startled by your shouting and the manic running around of your siblings and cousins — not to mention the softly sweet intrusion his mouth experiences at the hands of his wife.

william had decided to escape the company of your dad and uncles once the mid-morning conversation turned to politics, knowing how chaotically passionate the men in your family get once the topic of current events gets brought up, in search of your comforting company in what’s the first time you’ve taken him back home in your relationship, never mind for such an important festivity. bengali new year in your motherland just hit differently and you wanted william to be fully immersed in every part of the extravagancies that your heritage brought to help pop his bengali culture cherry. unfortunately, being one of the “older younger” members of the extended family, you had taken it upon yourself to be at the forefront of all the festive tasks which meant that the new year wasn’t going to be quite the relaxed and enjoyable shared time either you or william had been thinking of. 

although, admittedly, he shouldn’t have been so surprised at the utter carnage unfolding in the kitchen since every single one of your relatives was up at the slightest sliver of dawn today, rushing about the residence to begin the pressing yet procrastinated matter of setting up decorations, preparing the food and creating the most stunning of placards for the neighbourhood’s parade; all before one in the afternoon. the hubbub was so sweeping that william had missed a good morning kiss from you — having gotten up so early to denote roles to your younger relatives in the food preparation — and he hadn’t even seen you at the brief breakfast the family had managed to slip into the schedule, making him miss your presence way too much than was allowed in his terms. it was quite definitive of your relationship that you had essentially found him before he had seen you, rushing over in an outfit that william had never seen you in — a red and white shari wrapped around your body, gold jewellery adorning nearly every possible inch of you, the tinkle-tinkle of your anklets melodically ringing in his ears as you make your way over. it all takes his breath away regardless.

“how is it, huh?” you anxiously enquire, taking a quick bite of the sweet yourself, cheeks filling with the spongey sugary goodness as it muffles your voice. “we spent forever making the mix, first it was too soft then too hard, and then y/c/n accidentally dropped it on the floor then we had to argue about what the shape was gonna be and th–”

your stressed-out rambling causes william to laugh, taking the remainder of the chomchom from you and popping it into his mouth before telling you that it’s delicious and there is no reason to worry about it.

“i can give you a hand, y’know? i’m not that bad in front of dough.” he teases, offering to take some load off you and your appointed kitchen team for the day. 

you’re quick to refuse, knowing there are quite literally hundreds of sweets and snacks needed to be made in a short amount of time to share throughout the neighbourhood and you don’t want his new year experience to be tainted with the interfamilial arguments that are sure to ensure within these here four walls over the next few hours.

“you should save yourself and rest before we set out for the parade, will, before we fully make you into our mishti guinea pig.” you usher him as best as you can towards the kitchen door and into the courtyard. “besides, i don’t want to be getting a strongly worded text from mikel for fattening you up too much for your job.” 

another chuckle from your husband, who accepts, setting off to lend his hand in something else that isn’t getting in the middle of flour and sugar being haphazardly thrown around. 

he finds himself in the company of some of your youngest cousins who assign him the role of batter in an impromptu game of cricket in the courtyard, taking the time to teach him all the techniques of a nationally beloved sport that he’s a complete novice in. after a couple of attempts of trying to understand the rules but giving up, his side nonetheless win the game and your baby cousin pipes up with the notion that william is now a “true bengali”, which makes your husband’s heart glow with affection for this new family of his.

the chattering and rushing of a group of yourself and some other cousins as you all pass through the courtyard pulls at his attention, intently watching as a number of you scramble around tables set up for the food and pace back and forth behind them and the kitchen, carrying what seems to be enough snacks to feed the whole country, never mind the neighbourhood. william can see the tension etched onto your face, brows nearly crossed over into a v-shape, and he so badly wants to step in and tell you to sit down for at least a minute but he knows the tasks at hand are more pressing and you really want to get this right for him, your family and the neighbours. he decides that he’ll have to remedy your stress once it’s actually appropriate to do so. 

another hour or two follows before the lack of you gets to william, now missing your presence by his side so much that he’s pacing around the house like a madman, dipping into every room and asking whoever he stumbles into where your whereabouts may be. william was damn near about to start shouting your name from the rooftop before an aunt of yours points him towards the direction of the garden where you’re there by yourself, hastily brushing vivid paint over the sketched-out placards for the parade very, very last-minutely. you don’t even have to look up to know that it’s your lover who’s rushing towards you.

“god, it’s all going on today, isn’t it?” you speak before he can and try to place some humour in an otherwise extremely stressful situation, not even finding the time to take your eyes off the painting to look at william while explaining what’s going on. “y/s/n cut their finger and everyone else is so busy so i have to finish these and get them dried in…” you press your phone to check the time. “... 20 minutes.” yeah, you’re somewhat fucked right now. 

“and who said you have to do it by yourself?” william rhetorically quizzes you; a mild scolding for bearing so much stress on yourself. “y/n, when’s the last time you sat down or even stopped your feet from running about the house? babe, i thought this was supposed to be a time when we both celebrated together, right? so why don’t we work together, too, yeah?”

you go to refuse him again and tell him to get ready for the parade with the rest of your family but william is having none of it.

“pass me a brush, please,” he softly demands with a sigh, hand outstretched as you eventually accept what he’s been saying to you since the morning and give him the tools he needs to help you finish the painting. you find yourselves completing it in more than half the time, leaving you plenty of time to fan them over to dry.

you turn to william, wanting to thank him for gently knocking some sense into you but getting instantly distracted when you finally allow yourself to take your husband in and appreciate him. you’re in awe of how extra handsome your husband looks in your culture’s traditional attire: a red and white panjabi set to match your shari, the golden handpainted motifs and embroidery sparkling against the rich colours of the cotton material.

“there, see, we finished it together! teamwork isn’t that bad, is it?” he teases and you respond with a tiny jab of your elbow on his side and a light laugh. “ah, hang on…” 

he turns you to fully face him and points out that your red teep is slightly off-centre between your eyebrows, raising his hand to fix it while the other rests on the side of your face. your heartbeat picks up a little faster over his warm touch that you’d been missing for so many hours and the peek of his tongue out in concentration practically has hearts swirling in your eyes. 

“there we go.” the way he smiles down at you tugs tenderly at your heartstrings and you can’t help but nearly smash your lips against his, the established habit of getting on your tiptoes to caress your alta-adorned hands along his broad shoulders helping to propel yourself into his embrace. william kisses back with all the might of a lover being starved of his wife’s touch for far too long.

a sudden call of your names quickly breaks the two of you apart, your aunt turning the corner towards you both with a camera waving in her hand and shouting something about taking a big family photo in front of the house before setting off. you and william are far too flustered to really comprehend what she’s saying before you’re wiping at your own mouths to rid yourselves of the red-stained evidence of your lipstick. your husband is about to take off behind your aunt to avoid any more time-wasting but you’re quick to grab his hand and pay him a greatly overdue compliment. 

“oi, you look good in red and white.” 

glossary of bengali terms ♡

chomchom = a milk-based bengali sweet.

shari = traditional clothing worn by bengali women; other languages may call it a "saree/sari".

mishti = bengali word for "sweet(s)".

panjabi = traditional clothing worn by bengali men.

teep = a small coloured dot/jewel worn between the eyebrows/on the forehead; you may see it being called a "bindi".

alta = red dye traditionally painted onto the hands and feet of bengali women during festivals and celebrations.

#william saliba #william saliba imagine #william saliba fluff #william saliba x reader #william saliba x fem!reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #football fic #footballer fluff #when the cool tones of ur first pic don’t match with the warm tones of ur 2nd and 3rd ones KYS . anyway #also posting this knowing full well i most probably have zero bengali readers lmao u write what u wanna read tho innit . ANYWAY #big up uncle titi for the title reference 😌 #i hope i kept it regionally & religiously neutral so my bengali babes from any background can enjoy !! 🫂 #+ used shuddho/standard bengali just to keep a generalness and not to denote a specific dialect/language to the reader soooo yeah!! #reader isnt necessarily a shuddho bangla speaker ^_^ #thats the trouble with bengali ppl we are sooooo diverse it's a struggle to try n make sure everyone is included 😅 i luv us so much tho <33 #˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗

[clownprince]

Look. Don't get me wrong. I love the batjokes fandom literally everyone I've interacted with has been SO nice for such an insane ship it's a surprisingly chill fandom.

That being said... sometimes I feel Weird because a lot of the community (not all! but a large part) is like haha yeah my favorite fucked up toxic problematic ship love how twisted it is >:) batman wants to fuck that clown even though he literally killed his whole ass son it's so fucked I love it.

And that's fine! No problem with that. Power to you.

But I'm just over here like... what if they both got better together and processed their trauma and Joker made amends with everyone and everyone was happy and content as a family.

Like, the most compelling thing for ME in Batjokes is easily Bruce's refusal to view Joker the way most other people do. Even in arcs where he does dehumanize Joker, he at the very least makes an attempt to understand him. Everyone else is just like yeah, he's evil, he's just doing this shit because he enjoys it because he's a monster. But even when their relationship is at its worst, like in Joker War, Batman tries to understand where Joker is coming from. He doesn't just assume oh yeah Joker is just doing this because he's evil there's no logic behind his crimes he just enjoys it.

Bruce actually understands that Joker is trying to show him something, i.e., that he isn't being Batman right (in Joker's opinion). And even after Joker literally tears down his life, fucking reanimates his dead father figure to torment him and re-enacts his childhood trauma on the city, Bruce STILL ends up agreeing that he had a point!

Like to ME... Batjokes is about loving someone so transcendentally that you devote your entire existence to helping them. It's about having compassion for someone even after they commit horrific atrocities. It's about loving someone who everyone else hates and views as a monster. It's about someone loving the parts of someone that they consider terrible and unlovable. It's about being misunderstood your entire life and finally finding someone who gets it. It's about love for one person motivating you to stay alive in a world that's been nothing but cruel to you. It's about finding someone who makes everything awful that's ever happened to you seem worth it. But most importantly it's about the refusal to give up on someone who everyone else has long since declared a lost cause.

#i just feel weird sometimes bc i'm like MUCH more compelled by the softer parts of batjokes #collapses to my knees. i just want them to be happy your honor #just a silly little ramble idk #batjokes #just like. bruce's consistent caring for joker even after all the shit he's done. ouhhhhhhighhihh #bruce's capacity to have compassion for people doing the most horrific shit #is so so special and important to me #but it just hits especially hard with joker #especially because they're both afraid of getting better. #anyway #and obviously there are a solid amount of people who like softer batjokes ik that #it just feels to ME like the majority of people prefer a darker more fucked up dynamic. like more comic accurate lmao #which is valid and fine. but i'm just like. sitting over here with my unrealistic fluff...

[rorja]

synopsis. you, suguru, and a window left open— or, the soothing lullaby of springtime.

a/n. very much self-indulgent and probably with a lot of mistakes (be patient please, i’ll correct it first thing in the morning!) but i really needed to write a moment of peace after a troubling week…….. also, i’ve been very sick and this is my first attempt at writing after a long time so i apologize if it’s not that good TT — 🐣

it was comforting, watching the thin but sturdy branches of the plum tree stretching to the glittering dots adorning the sky. regulus's fiery mane moving delicately as the evening breeze's note echoed in the air. waking up every sleeping blossom, cradling in a motherly embrace each of its sons and daughters that were yet to be awakened.

spring. where your eyes landed you could spot significant signs of its long awaited arrival, from the night sky to the grass steadily growing inches in your neighborhood's garden. it made a smile bloom on your lips, the same way pink and whiteish buds littered every branch of the plum trees.

you traced the astronomical asterism one more time, drawing an imaginary line that connected the three luminous stars of the evenings to come. an invisible triangle that linked arcturus with spica, just to finish on the other side of the sky and meet with the last component of the brightly lit trio: regulus. many people (and internet. mostly internet) would argue with power points at hand and scientific theories that the white star of denebola was a better choice than regulus. more suited to close the imaginary triangle, resulting in a nearly equilateral one at the price of brightness.

but you didn't care. that place belonged to regulus because that is what you saw the first time you used a telescope. and no one could've made you change your mind, of that you were sure. stubborn just as much over something that wasn't even real but dear to you.

your chest danced slightly— a breathy chuckle finding its way out as you eventually lifted your growing aching arms from the windowsill.

(you know a person who would've found that stubborness of yours endearing.)

a yawn parted your lips and the door cracked open. it had been a long day— a long week even, for both of you of course. but this time around it had been particularly rough for suguru. he was the one to come home with an aching back and tired limbs, though it was not that hard to see how fatigue latched on his body. a voracious snake that found a comfortable nest in between his chest, refusing to leave him alone.

it was the main reason as to why dinner was made a little earlier today and the dishes were left on the counter to dry for the night. you will put them back in the respective cupboard tomorrow as the first thing in the morning. for tonight, you decided to prioritize your rest.

it was also the reason why suguru took a longer-than-usual shower and got out of it only now. the noticeable difference in his shoulders made relief bloom in your chest— no more slumped, or a tad bit droopy but instead relieved, back to their natural stance as if the weight holding them down had been lifted. a minuscule change that probably would have gone unnoticed by others.

he walked toward the bed, phone steady in one hand while typing an answer to satoru and ieiri. it was easy to tell who suguru was writing to. you noticed overtime that when he texted the two of them he wiggled his nose a lot and (if gojo ended up saying something stupid or sending weird memes) his frown lines became more wrinkled, like a child trying to comprehend the meaning of a new word. it was adorable.

you followed his steps, raising the duvets and moving away the excessive amount of pillows on your side of the bed. suguru did the same on his own half.

"satoru giving you a hard time?" a breathy chuckle. he didn't answer, simply shaking his head in resignation and placing the phone on his bedside table before collapsing on the bed with a content exhale. you took that as a sign to join him.

"just satoru being satoru," you didn't fail to notice how his eyes softened when looking at you, "i think yuji should stop teaching him about internet slangs. he's been doing the deez nuts thing for two weeks already"

though there were traces of hopelessness heavily lingering on his words, you couldn't help but notice something else— something that you recognized immediately after as fondness. a familiar feeling that he reserved only for the few people he truly cared about. you didn't even try to stop the laughter bubbling in your chest.

(suguru watched as your eyes crinkled in amusement. the sound of your laughter lulling him to further relieve- soothing away every stubborn trace of stress still sitting heavy in his bones.

spring waltzed from the opened window, attracted by your presence. he couldn't blame it; you were the spring he eagerly looked forward to seeing each day.)

when your laugh eventually dimmed, his phone lightened up with new messages to read. suguru retrieved it and you did the same with yours, wordlessly shifting in a comfortable lull and a familiar embrace. a satisfied hum broke momentarily the blanket of silence falling on the room when you felt his free arm around your shoulders. fingers playing absentmindedly with the strands of your hair, messily splayed on the pillow.

you nuzzled closer to his chest, your cheek now resting on the thin fabric of his white shirt he had been recently using to sleep with. phone clasped in one of your hands while you scrolled mindlessly through the feed of your favorite social media.

and it's gentle. serene. a moment of shared complicity that carried the veiled scent of blossoming flowers and stardust. a needed addition to the relationship that brought somehow a welcomed sense of mundanity.

when suguru eventually fell asleep first, his chin resting on top of your head, you didn't have it in yourself to get up and close the window. too pleasant, too cozy to even entertain the thought of leaving it for a few seconds. you will close it tomorrow, first thing in the morning. as of tonight, you'll let yourself be cradled by the sweet lullaby happening outside that very same window.

(suguru's arms never felt so much like home before.)

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #anime x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto x you #jjk geto #geto fluff #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto x y/n #suguru fluff #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you #getou x reader #i really should stop writing at almost 3 in the morning……….. it’s becoming unbearable lmao #anyway #i miss my beautiful wife geto suguru so much #i’m not particularly proud about this one because i feel like i could’ve done better #like. really better #it seems like i can’t write anything but fluff for this man