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polaroidcats · 1 month

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Cat! So i have heard about the new agenda..... Cuddle the dog??? What a delightful idea!!! Do you have any tips about what are dog's favourite ways to be treated well? What kind of things will make him feel warm and happy and loved??? If dog is having a bad day, what could his friends - maybe a certain werewolf - do to make the dog feel better?? Any fluffy scenarios or headcanons you would love to share? 😍

Bat!!! So happy that you asked about this important agenda!!!

The dog grew up not getting any cuddles, so when he meets his new best friend, the stag, it takes him a while to understand that cuddle the dog could even be an agenda. He grew up mostly knowing the ignore the dog, kick the dog, break the dog's will, scream at the dog, belittle the dog, compare the dog to the dog's brother, tell the dog he will never fulfill his potential, tell the dog he is a disgrace to his family,... agendas, so this new cuddle the dog agenda makes him very uneasy at first, he even goes out of his way to avoid it. He gives the shortest, stiffest hugs, but living with the stag, the wolf and the rat makes it sort of unavoidable to get (accidentally) cuddled sometimes, huddling together under the invisibility cloak, the four of them sitting together on a common room sofa meant for two, the wolf accidentally falling asleep in the dog's bed, the stag having no concept of other people's personal space and regularly giving the dog big crushing hugs after quidditch victories or if the doe only rolls her eyes at him instead of hexes him.

Eventually the stag notices how uneasy the dog is with the whole cuddle the dog or even just hug the dog briefly agenda and they talk about it. The dog never felt at ease with physical affection but the stag makes it all seem so easy, the dog wants to try and enjoy it, he just never learnt how to. He reluctantly admits that he likes how the stag doesn't hold back his affection, and can openly and loudly admit to loving his friends as well as hug them whenever he feels like it. The dog is both bad at expressing his feelings verbally and physically, but the stag doesn't mind, he knows and loves the dog and tells the dog he doesn't need to change in order to be loved. The dog cries a little and reluctantly leans into the stag who's sitting beside him on his bed, and puts his arm around the dog and lets him have a good cry.

The dog starts to very shyly hug back whenever the stag (or, on rare occasions, the rat or even rarer, the wolf) hugs him. After the dog manages his first transformation into his true dog form he actually initiates his very first hug, so happy that he and the stag and the rat can now help the wolf.

When they show the wolf their animal forms, the wolf starts crying and the dog is again the first one to start a hug that all four of them participate in, ending up with the wolf on the floor, three very excited boys on top of him, all crying and laughing, and the dog realizes how far he has come, that he can now have this, three best friends who love him, who he loves, who he can cry and laugh with and who he would absolutely die for, no questions asked.

Later the dog has to learn all about the ways in which the wolf likes to be cuddled and taken care of, and the wolf learns all about the ways he can make the dog feel so, so loved, how to cuddle the dog, how to show up and be there for the dog and how to show the dog how much love he deserves. Both the dog and the wolf struggle with this, so it doesn't come as easy to them as it does to the stag, but they learn from and with each other, and find so many small moments of joy in each other's company, creating a perfect little world full of cuddles and love that's just for the two of them.

The dog spends many years yearning for that perfect world, mourning the life he has lost and cursing the decisions that led to him losing that glimpse of a perfect life that was way too short, filled with memories that are now forever tainted by what happened with the rat and the stag.

So when the wolf and the dog reunite, the dog has once again forgotten that he is deserving of love, deserving of cuddles, deserving of anything good really. The wolf and the dog embrace like brothers puppies but now both of their embraces have a certain air of desperation, they are both so lost and trying to cling to each other in a desperate attempt at finding their way back to themselves. The hard part isn't learning to trust each other again, that comes surprisingly easy, considering the circumstances. No, the hard part is letting the other one close again, and not getting overwhelmed by all the memories and the history, of everything they have lost and everything they could have had. The hard part is being seen, fully and with nowhere to hide. The dog often hides in his animal form, and the wolf understands. Cuddling the dog in his animal form comes so naturally to the wolf, sometimes he is secretly glad of the dog being more comfortable like that. But the dog also misses the wolf's human touch on his own human body, only it seems both of them have forgotten how to do that, and now there is no stag, no youthful ignorance and excitement, no naive and wonderful hope for the future left to help them and guide them along the way, to make things easier.

The wolf and the dog have to learn slowly, reluctantly and very carefully how to be close again, how to cuddle again without letting the fear of losing everything, the fear or breaking themselves and each other overwhelm them. The dog loves it when the wolf washes and brushes his hair, and the wolf is happy to help the dog, it seems like a safe way for them to learn how to touch each other as humans again. The wolf hates it when people coddle him after he transforms into a different wolf once a month, but the dog remembers how he used to take care of the wolf, and he tries to gently touch him like he did when they were young and happy, and those touches remind the wolf of all the things they had and all the things they could still have, if they find their way back. It takes time for them to both remember how they liked to be touched and find out all the ways in which they have changed, things they liked that they now hate or don't care for and things they never cared for but that suddenly give them comfort. Both the wolf and the dog find joy in those quiet explorations, in finding new ways to show the other one how much they are loved and how much love is still there, after all these years, after everything that has happened.

#and then they lived happily ever after and no one ever died THE END!#bat tag #wolfstar #i hope u forgive me for taking a bit longer to answer the ask now bat <33 #i hope u like it!!#cuddle the dog #my new fave agenda

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 8 months

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Why Jason Grace is The Most Tragic Character in the Riordanverse

*in no way is this trying to dial down Nico's own suffering, I'm just stating my case for Jason because godsdamn SOMEBODY needs to say it!*

@most-tragic-character-tournament here's propoganda i came out guns ablazing

List of why fans are saying Nico:

Lost his mother

lost years of his life

found out he was a demigod at age 10

lost sister at 10

rough relationship with his dad

closeted gay

crush is madly in love with somebody else

forced to come out

List of why Jason is more tragic:

Lost his mom to alcoholism/mental decline

Lost his ENTIRE FUCKING CHILDHOOD because Said Mom gave him up to Juno to be raised by a PACK OF WOLVES who would've EATEN HIM if he was WEAK FOR EVEN A SECOND - AS A FUCKING TWO YEAR OLD

Was a trained demigod FROM THE GET-GO (again, TWO YEARS OLD)

Because of previously stated separation, was TAKEN FROM HIS SISTER WHO LOVED HIM SO MUCH SHE RAN AWAY BECAUSE SHE COULDN'T TAKE THE GUILT AND FEAR AND RAGE THAT FILLED HER AT HIS ABSENCE

Was set up into a "perfect" relationship by Juno/Hera WHILE HAVING HIS MEMORIES TAKEN

Jason may not have had the awful forced outting Nico had to go through, but...that's not really his fault? Nobody has any control over their sexual identity, and Jason? Well. He never really got to explore it. Because that was taken from him too.

Thinks he LOST LEO VALDEZ, ONE OF HIS ACTUAL FIRST FRIENDS, WHO LIKED HIM FOR HIM AND NOT BECAUSE OF HIS STATUS

FORCED TO COMPLY TO A DEMANDING SOCIETY THAT EXALTED HIM FROM DAY 1 BECAUSE HIS DAD IS THE OH-SO-IMPORTANT JUPITER (*cough victim of nepotism cough*)

AND WHEN HE TRIES TO COMBAT THAT NEPOTISM HE KEEPS GETTING PUSHBACK UNTIL HE FALTERS

then. then his girlfriend breaks up with him - not because of any drama, or even a disagreement, but over a very valid point

their relationship didn't exactly start out very...honestly. Jason had been mind-wiped of all memories and Piper had fake ones implanted into her to make her think she liked Jason as more than a friend. sure. they had a pretty nice relationship, but when everything slowed down and they took a look at their lives?

Piper's the one who sees it first, and makes the decision. Jason is heartbroken, but understands - he even, dare I say, agrees that they should end the relationship. it was built on fake memories - you could say it was built on lies.

and now Jason has this opportunity to step back and analyze who he is and what he wants.

what he finds is depressing. everything he's had, everything's he's been up till now...

it's not him.

he never wanted to be raised by Lupa and her wolves.

he never wanted to be Jupiter's son

he never wanted to be the exalted leader Camp Jupiter praised him for

From day 1 his life was somebody else's. his first steps were under the tutelage of a wolf, not of the loving eyes of his sister

Camp Jupiter only ever saw him as the demigod to be praised and turn to above all others, even before he became praetor.

Jason's life...was never his own.

and now that he's away from all that pressure and expectation...he doesn't know who he is.

Son of Jupiter?

Champion of Juno?

Praetor of the Twelfth Legion?

Member of the Prophesized Seven?

Hero of Olympus?

no. he was never himself under these names.

he was never...Jason.

but maybe now he could start navigating his own life. without some god intervening for once. this would be good for him, and for Piper, to find their own way.

but then. then they talk to Herophile...and find out one of them will die. And Jason? Well, he's not going to let Piper be taken from the life she deserves. he may not be her boyfriend, her knight in shining armor, but he sure as HELL loves her - especially as a friend. And if there's one thing you should know about Jason? It's that he loves his friends.

so what does he do? He sacrifices himself. He duels Caligula himself, and urges Piper, Meg, and Apollo to Go, save yourselves! and -

he's stabbed. through the chest. the only thing he can do? Look to Apollo, to the blue gaze so much like his own drenched in horror, and ask; Remember. because he didn't get to live the life he wished, but maybe Apollo could - no, Apollo can, he can make the difference Jason wanted. Because he trusts Apollo.

Jason doesn't regret his sacrifice. he saved Piper from the prophecy, after all. He saved Apollo & Meg's lives too.

in fact, Jason didn't really mind dying. Because he didn't have much of a life either. And a life like that? shrug It's worth sacrificing for those who deserve theirs.

and as icing on the cake, remember who Jason's father is? The almighty, all-powerful Jupiter himself, King of the Gods?

he doesn't do a damn thing to help Jason. Not a single. Thing.

because Jupiter/Zeus doesn't care about his children. Especially his sons.

Zeus saved Thalia. But he didn't even try to save Jason.

Trying would have at least lessened the pain...

People like to claim Jason is a bland, boring character who's never suffered a minute in his life. That he's a golden retriever with no flaws.

Well.

Take a look up there and ask yourself - it that the life of a boy who knows no suffering?

Because it sure as hell don't look that way to me.

To me, it looks like Jason was a used, depressed young man who never got to choose his own path. Who's father abandoned him first to his wife's mercy, then to a cruel emperor's.

Jason Grace suffered.

and he never got to live that happy life he saw within the Fates.

Never got to get that family, those grandchildren he saw himself telling the story of the Argo II to.

Because The Fall of Jason Grace is a true, utter tragedy.

#jason grace #i have feeeeelings #remember when people complained about jason being “boring” and then rick was like “okay he's dead now” and then those same people screamed #about never reading toa because “how could rick do that!!! jason was supposed to marry piper and have kids!!!! :(((”#well my friends you DO remember the first page of the lightning thief don't you?#“look i didn't want to be a half-blood”#being a half-blood is dangerous #sometimes it can get you killed in painful nasty ways #~don't say i didn't warn you #- percy jackson #rick warned us at the very beginning #in greek mythology...there's triumph and victory #but the one thing greece is known for in theater?#it's tragedy #and rick perfectly displays it with the fall of jason grace #life's not all sunshine and rainbows #it's not going to be “they all lived happily ever after the end”#it wouldn't be a greek story without tragedy #and really...how many of you ~actually~ cared about jason until he died #hmm?#i'm not judging #i ~was~ one of those people #he wasn't my favorite but i was more...eh about him #he existed for me #until i took a step back and looked at his life and went...#oh.#he's not who i thought he was #and he's not who you think he is either #thank you for coming to my tedtalk #the burning maze

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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year

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hi so so sorry if this sounds genuinely deranged but I need to know did you write a fanfiction in like 2014 that was set during ww2 where zoro from one piece was sent to a japanese internment camp and sanji went to conversion therapy I remembered it recently because it blew my mind at age 13 and I had to reread it + need a kind of where are they now with the author so if that's you 1) what's your stance on the fic today 2) how much of the research was done during writing and how much did you just know beforehand and used as inspo 3) did you have any ideas for where the other characters ended up because I did always wonder if like idk chopper overcame the trauma of being in the war and also just what usopp's situation would be in general what with the political climate. once again. if you didn't actually write this fic so sorry this must look like the ravings of a crazy person. godspeed

Hi. Uh, yeah I did write that fic. I would have been like only 17 at the time. I did do A LOT of research, like the fic was basically an excuse for me to research Japanese internment and WWII history in general bc I thought it was super fucked up. I was absolutely hyperfixated on the topic and my parents probably thought i was nuts for my ability to talk at length on this particular area of history. I just finished skim reading back through the fic and woof. What a bleak fucking story. I was very cruel to everyone. It's frustrating bc I think it's an interesting and compelling idea for a story. But to me it feels like: here is all the research I did and also characters talking in what feels like a too modern way. Plus, I was 17 and didnt understand people very well. I wish I had the energy and motivation to rewrite it. Although, I forgot I used to do song lyrics at the start of each chapter and the tonal dissonance of Owl City lyrics at the top of a chapter of harrowing events around the time of WWII is unfathomablly unhinged.

#as for where r they now? i forgot the last chapter was like fuck u nothing matters life goes on sanji probably died of lung cancer #like jesus dude calm down. i think now id give them a bit of a softer ending #like i mean sanji still prob dying of lung cancer but he lives a long life with zoro and thry make the most of the time they have together #and i mean when u see horrific things in war i imagine its something u never really get over but i think the crew members that became #soldiers go on to live fuffilling lives and usopp finds a stable and relatively well paying job. gets married and lives happily ever after #god. its so frustrating to me that ill probably never rewrite this. it could habe been so good #but i just dont have thst kind of energy. i do think abt this fic more than almost all my other tho #im glad u liked it anon. its a fucking unhinged fic just from the perspective of: rural ohio teen wants to research a fucked up aspect of #ww 2 history and decides to write a fucking fanfic abt it. like bro what why. but idk weird weird times #there could have been themes and exploration of trauma and adversity. complex relationships. but no u get cringe written by a child #and now at the age of nearly 26 i am old and tired. christ thst was almost 10 years ago. i was a whole different human #weird the fanfics that stick with u. i have many i think abt from hs. wonder where the authors r now...#unrelated #i also forgot that in the authors nots i was like: if u r a n4zi fucking kill yourself.#which i standby but i was not expecting to see thst in the notes of a one piece fic i wrote as a kid good god

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thatoneweirdo14 · 8 months

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that is the look of a man who just saw his dead friend living and breathing again.

#i do this to myself #AGAIN #i rly love hurting myself dont i #also i saw everyone talking about the doomed by the narrative motif #can yall just like #SHHHHH #nonono no one dies #only qian jin dies #ltc figures out what to do with himself #hat man gets over whatever is motivating him to be s3 villain #and lg and cxs kiss and get married and live happily ever after and NO ONE DIES #NO ONE IS DOOMER BY THE NARRATIVE AND EVERYONE GETS A HAPPY ENDING #AND IF NOT EVERYONE THEN AT LEAST THEM #😃😃😃😃😃#im holding onto straws rn people #watch me adapt my fic to fit this new development in the plot #my fluffy word vomit fic will turn into angst now bc of this #and all it will take is tagging it as canon compliant #i wont even need to change anything #thanks alot lc #link click #shiguang daili ren #shiguang dailiren #shiguang #time agents

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vitamin-zeeth · 9 months

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Just saw shitfaced Shakespeare for the first time oh my god I'm going another million times it was BRILLIANT

#romeo was the shitfaced one and he was so funny #he kept trying to get off with the friar and running off th stage and up the asiles #and he kept going on at mercutio about personal space and when he died they yelled at him that hed made his bed snd he could lie in it #when he came in and found juliet on the bed he was like NOOO JULIET!! ok im gonna take this poison vut before i do in just gonna make sureee #and then kept trying to get her to wake up and eventually she did and he was like AYYY SHES ALIVE and then the friar wnf the dad came in #and the dad was like what the fuck juliet why is romeo here and romeo was like look mate im. uh. me andjuliet and the friar were a throuple #and pulled the friar overto the bed with him and juliet and the dad was just kinda like well if a man of god is involved its gotta b ok #and they all lived happily ever after the end #shitfaced Shakespeare #wet floor sign

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whimsicalcotton · 1 year

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this is their dynamic thank you for coming to my tedtalk

#kyoko sakura #homura akemi #mami tomoe #they're in my brain again babeyyyy #this is my french vanilla fantasy where it's basically just anti-materials but kyoko lives with them too #and everything is fine everyone is happy and no one dies. happily ever after the end #nova scribbles

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kirbyskisses · 1 year

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regret || reuniting with gojo

wc: 1,060

written for @gatoru. gn!reader, the reader and gojo are married with kids, otherwise canon!compliant, light mentions of blood, angst with a happy ending, manga spoilers, probably going to become a full series, my man is home😭

minors/ageless blogs dni

“no sorcerer dies without regrets.” it was a phrase principal masamichi liked to repeat to prospective sorcerers; you remember when he said it to itadori as you and your husband stood behind the eager, pink-haired teen that very first day he arrived into the jujutsu world - just a vessel for sukuna.

and now that same king of curses - having taken the form of your beloved adopted son megumi instead - knocks you straight down from miles high.

so here you are - falling, dying, regretting. regretting that you couldn’t see megumi’s often hidden smile again, or share banana bread with nanami one last time, or laugh as nobara gets excited at the smallest urban details of tokyo.

but then, life flashing before your eyes each second feeling like an eon - you start remembering the good too.

your kids are safe; the little pair of toddlers with their father’s white hair and blue eyes, happily tumbling around the beaches of kenya with miguel, unaware of the chaos and death surrounding you.

your students are strong. so strong. you got to live and love so many people - too many to name; yuuta, ieri, ichiji…

and satoru.

maybe it’s the rush of chemicals as your bleeding body plummets that’s causing you to hallucinate but it’s like you can see it all. like you can feel it all.

you can taste the sugar and dough of all the dessert shops he’d force you to raid with him at ungodly hours of the night. you can feel the tight grip of his larger hand around yours and how much you treasured the very act of him releasing his limitless barrier just to squeeze your warmer palm. he always ran cold and so there was a chill to the way he’d touch you and to his his lips would gently and teasingly come down to yours. then to your jaw, then to your neck.

you can feel how tight he’d hug you - sometimes joyously like when he swung you around the second you told him he’d be a father - and to twins no less - and sometimes in a fit of anger and sadness. the cold christmas morning where he killed suguru and clung to you so tightly as if you too would shatter and leave him the second he let go.

you hear the sound of his laugh, of his moans and whines when he was inside you, of his sighs of boredom on the train or when meeting with the higher ups he so loathed, his snores, or his words when he was an arrogant teenager who would use a new pick up line on you every day - they’re all ringing in your ears.

no sorcerer dies without regrets. that’s true but you still had a good life. a life with him in it. you close your eyes completely ready to smash against the ground and feel it end.

and then you stop. not on wood or pavement, no. you’re completely paused and held against cool skin and cloth. you didn’t just slow, you stopped dead. you’re paused in the air and as the adrenaline courses through your veins you think surely you’ve already hit the ground and died instantaneously. surely, this stillness is whatever comes after.

but you’re not dead because you can feel yourself breathing. and hear your own heartbeat pounding in you head. eyes scrunched shut, all the memories stop and you confirm your own survival with a heavy inhale.

everything should smell blood and cold air and cement. but instead the scent filling your nose is that distinct mix of brushwood, cologne and mochi. the ringing in your ears lessens as your breathing steadies, replaced by a single, calming apology.

“sorry, my love.”

you hesitantly open your eyes, soft white hair and blue sky-filled ones meeting your gaze with a soft, ever-confident smile.

“i didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“satoru…” you can barely breathe it out, taking in that he’s really here, really free, really holding you like a bride. he leans down so his forehead is against yours, hair mingling together as your breathing slows.

“don’t speak.” he murmurs softly, watching your cursed energy start the technique reversal process to heal yourself - as much as he missed your voice, your focus should be on your wounds. his eyes turn to sukuna’s direction, an unhinged anger hiding underneath his otherwise happy eyes at how the vile curse so deeply injured the love of his life.

“megumi bound himself in there, yeah? so i can kill him and not hurt our kid.”

you nod; overwhelmed as you are, your heart softens at how it’s still the same satoru who would take silly videos at megumi’s middle school graduation - a proud father-figure ready to kill the parasite that’s using his student as a host.

“and the twins? you got them out of japan?”

he warps you away from all the carnage and exhales in relief when you nod in soft confirmation. you take in your surroundings. this is your bedroom. the darkness of a simple domain covers the outside - no curses will get in. it’s home - for the first time since this disastrous chain of events started you’re home. you’re somewhere safe, your family is safe, and gojo’s here.

“that’s all i need. you did more than enough and gave him one hell of a fight, so heal up until i come back - no one will find you here.”

you open your mouth to speak but you don’t even know what to say; that you’re glad he’s home? that you’re sorry for not managing to kill sukuna or kenjaku in time? that you counted every hour he was gone afraid you’d never see his handsome face and confident demeanor again - that you love him more than life? should you thank him for saving you from certain death?

instead before you can make a solid thought, he pats your head, strokes down your face with a familiar touch and - after what felt like an eternity apart - presses his lips to yours over and over and over until he’s sure you’ve memorized both his taste and the fact that he’s here to stay. then he turns to go back with one confident proclamation.

“i’ll take it from here, okay?”

#gojo daddy #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk 221 #jjk manga spoilers #jjk manga #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #megumi fushiguro #jjk miguel #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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sprachgitter · 10 months

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on storytelling and repetition

“...the secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again.”

— Arundhati Roy on Indian mythology and folklore, in God of Small Things (1997)

“It was only once – once – that an audience went to see Romeo and Juliet, and hoped they might live happily ever after. You can bet that the word soon went around the playhouses: they don’t get out of that tomb alive. But every time it’s been played, every night, every show, we stand with Romeo at the Capulets’ monument. We know: when he breaks into the tomb, he will see Juliet asleep, and believe she is dead. We know he will be dead himself before he knows better. But every time, we are on the edge of our seats, holding out our knowledge like a present we can’t give him.”

— Hilary Mantel on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, in “Can These Bones Live?”, Reith Lecture, 2017

“So what makes this poem mnemonic is not just repetition. Rather, it’s the fact that with repetition, the repeated phrase grows more and more questionable. I’ve remembered “Come on now, boys” because, with every new repetition, it seems to offer more exasperation than encouragement, more doubt than assertion. I remembered this refrain because it kept me wondering about what it meant, which is to say, it kept me wondering about the kind of future it predicted. What is mnemonic about this repetition is not the reader’s ability to remember it, but that the phrase itself remembers something about the people it addresses; it remembers violence. Repetition, then, is not only a demonstration of something that keeps recurring: an endless supply of new generations of cruel boys with sweaty fists. It is also about our inability to stop this repetition: the established cycles of repetition are like spells and there’s no anti-spell to stop them from happening. The more we repeat, the less power we have over the words and the more power the words have over us. Poetic repetition is about the potency of language and the impotence of its speakers. In our care, language is futile and change is impossible.”

— Valzhyna Mort on Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, in “FACE – FACE – FACE: A Poet Under the Spell of Loss”, The Poetry Society Annual Lecture, 2021

#web weaving #quote compilation #shakespeare #romeo and juliet #Hilary Mantel #arundhati roy #valzhyna mort #excerpt #on poetry #on storytelling #god of small things

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arminsumi · 8 months

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SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was �� when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

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mayullla · 9 months

Note

Yandere Ayato 🦋🌸 please and thank you 😊

Title: You continued to look for him

Character(s): Ayato (Genshin Impact) Summary: You could not help but hope that you would be able to meet your fated soulmate. Yet that never happened and you wed the Yashiro Commissioner. You should have given up on soulmates then, but you didn't. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, Fem!reader, soulmate au (same tattoos), arranged marriage au, manipulation, toxic parents, implied murder

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

Fated love, in your world, was something like marks on the skin that you were born with. A patterned birthmark that was unique to only you and one other person who was your soulmate.

There was a special connection between both people, the deeper the love the more profound the shade, it was a pride to some lovers, because a mark never lies. Most lovers could rest assured that they have each other in their hearts, however if one side dies, their birthmark will become lighter... less obvious on the skin.

Gone as if they were never there. What felt like only a dream… meeting their soulmate, marrying, and living happily ever after life whatever that dream was has come to an end. But for many aristocratic families, it was common practice to marry out of benefits or money rather than something like fate.

You were born into aristocracy and were expected the same.

Even when everyone saw that little birthmark on your wrist right under your palm, it was either ignored by most or stared with pity for the more sympathetic ones. But they too ultimately ignored it, unable to help you.

Your parents found your birthmark to be a nuisance. If it was somewhere else on the body less obvious, then it would have been far better in their eyes. If you didn't have any from the start, it was the most ideal situation.

But it was not the case, and they could only make do with forcing you to wear gloves whenever you go out or when you were in their eyesight.

You grew up being told that this birthmark means nothing in nobility. Your parents made sure that you didn't get any ideas banning others from talking about it in front of you. Yet you listened, listened to the stories from maids who didn't think others were looking... listening to their little stories and gasps.

A word about it never left your lips about this sensitive topic, it was obvious that your parents would never care if you had found your soulmate. They wouldn't have let you meet him if he was of commoner status or worse shout and yell in anger if he was poor. But you always had this naive hope, there was a happy ending waiting for you.

However, that never arrived, as you wed another man arranged by your parents. They were full of glee and greed when they heard that the head of the Kamisato clan took an interest in you, ecstatic when he had sent a proposal. You watched from the corner of the room as you glanced down at your wrist, your birthmark hidden under the gloves you were forced to wear.

"It seems that you are disappointed." Kamisato Ayato, your fiance touched your cheek lightly when you stared at your wrist for too long, a solemn look on his face. You could see what he would ask next but before he could speak you didn't let him.

You shook your head at his words.

In the garden of the Kamisato estate you and him looked at the waters of Inazuma, "I am only doing what was expected of me. I will become your wife." You told him, leaning in his hand as if to show him affection, that you were willing to do this.

From that moment you should have thrown those silent hopes and dreams away. From the moment it became official that you and he were husband and wife, you should have thrown any thoughts of meeting the person you were supposed to be fated to. That from now on you belonged to someone else.

Ayato was a kind man, you thought. People had many things to say about him. He was hard-working, dutiful, smart and caring. He fulfilled his role as your husband. You were never in need, whether that be food or clothes, instead, you were spoiled as he gifted and dressed you with the finest luxuries that others could only wish to have. He was affectionate, always taking at least a little time off each day to stay by your side. You felt like he thought of you as his equal, a part of him instead of someone foreign, or a sort of trophy. He may not have been your fated partner, but he loved and cherished you nonetheless.

You should have been satisfied with what you have. You should have thrown all those feelings away, yet you were still so curious, eyes still lingering at your wrist when you zoned out in thought. He was alive that much you knew, you knew he was out there somewhere. Was he also curious as to who you were? What would you and he do when you found each other when you were married to another man.

You fulfilled your duties as the Kamisato head's wife. You showed respect to your husband as the leader. But there was a distant feeling that was never mentioned between you and Ayato. A kind of invisible wall that you unconsciously placed. Guilt ate you when you realize that your husband knew of it.

He stayed quiet, never complaining, never accusing as he continued to show affection towards you, as his wife. Everyone saw his love for you, and you heard from others and knew how loving he was as a husband. That he only had eyes for you. You would smile and blush flustered at their words but it felt more akin to stabs at your conscience.

Looking at the falling rain under the umbrella, the tapping sounds when the water drops hit the umbrella shield was relaxing as you took a stroll. Many of the servants tried to discourage you from going out worried that you may get wet, yet you told them you wished to follow Thoma to the market rather than stay home. They relented after a while, Thoma was kind enough to help you out stating that he would protect and help you if something bad were to actually happen.

Reaching the market you watched as people walked along the street, most holding their own umbrellas, others running with a hand or newspaper over their heads or hiding under shelters waiting for the rain to stop. Your mind was elsewhere as you waited for Thoma to buy all the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

Till you saw him.

Many say that it was as if the world had stopped for a moment when soulmates saw each other for the first time. A surreal experience, as you realize that the other person was the one. You could not breathe for a moment, frozen in place, eyes wide as you watched him march past you never noticing your stare. A soldier, based on his uniform but you saw the birthmark on his wrist that was holding his umbrella.

You wanted to stop him, you wanted to see him just once. Get a good look at the man who was supposed to be your fated partner. Talk to him just once to see what it would look like in your future if you married him. What was it like? Where would you be? So many questions consumed your thoughts but something was keeping you still. It was hard to move, hard to even breathe as you unconsciously counted the time, knowing that every second he was getting farther and farther away from you.

However you could not do anything.

A hand placed itself on your shoulder, snapping you back to reality. Time returned back to its normal pace. The umbrella that was on your hand was on the floor and cold were the droplets that hit your hair and your face, soon covered by an umbrella that wasn't yours.

"Are you okay?"

He called out your name, a familiar deep voice. Concerned eyes looked at you questioning why you had been standing in the rain like that. Ayato covered you with his own umbrella bringing you closer to him to shield you from getting any more wet. Words didn't come out for a moment, rendered speechless. You looked away from your husband towards where your fated partner was but the crowd had taken him away from you as you could not see him anymore.

You felt like your heart dropped and shattered into pieces till you felt a warm hand touch your cheek. Looking at the pale hand you looked up to your husband who looked at you in worry. "Do you have a fever? Hmmm... you are cold..." Ayato asked, mumbling the latter part as he moved his hand to your forehead. Some stared at you guys but continued on with their day while others mainly the elderly cooed at such a lovely couple.

"... No..." you told him, shaking your head as you looked down. It was impossible to look him in the eyes. "I am fine. I apologize… I do not know what came over me."

It was hard to think of any excuses...

He looked at you for a moment, the silence dragging on as you wondered if he actually believed you. Yet instead of a reply, you were suddenly covered with a coat too big to be yours. Looking up at your husband surprised he just moved you closer to him. "It seems like you had a long day, dear." He spoke in a soft tone, "Come. Let's get you home."

Telling Thoma who just came back from haggling with the vendors to grab your umbrella, you guys went back in the direction of the Kamisato estate. You looked nowhere but in front of you, hurried to quickly escape this situation. You didn't see your husband glance back at the crowd, his eyes trailing at someone's form.

Ayato always loved you, long before the marriage arrangement that he and your parents made. But it seemed that fate was not kind to him when he found out that you had a soulmate birthmark on your wrist while he had none.

However he knew as nobles, it was rare that one would be able to marry their fated lover as marriage was often mixed in with greed, gains, and benefits. Your parents were just the same, they looked at what they could gain while you were nothing more than one of their pawns. It was easy to sign a contract with them where he gave something that did not benefit him at all for your hand in marriage.

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt in the first meeting when you glanced at his wrist with a little bit of hope in your eyes only to dull when you found nothing. Rather it annoyed him more than anything but he knew that with time you would fall in love with him too even without a tattoo. He had already shackled you from ever leaving him too easily with marriage. And while it might take a little while you would return your feelings to him he was patient with you and gave you everything even when you placed this invisible wall between you and him.

It was slow, but he knew he was getting there. When you looked at him with those guilty eyes and tried to every so often show him the same affection he showered you with, only time would make it more genuine but a little push could never hurt anyone. It was a little later he found out who was your soulmate. An ordinary soldier, one of many and nothing special. This was just the last step till he finally had you in his grasp. Your conscious was still tilting one side to the other, telling yourself to leave those fantasies behind, with this you could finally make your decision.

Just one more step till you fall into his arms, in tears as the birthmark on your wrist slowly faded signaling the death of your soulmate. Till you finally give your heart to him, with nothing holding yourself back.

Only time was needed now till you finally become wholly his.

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