#i love writing abt they <33
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【 noble gentlemen; octavinelle 】
— or, the noble gentlemen series, in which the genre of the world is historical fantasy, and you and the twst boys are citizens of a distant magical land !
word count: 2.3k
details: gn! reader, drabbles, can be read as romantic or platonic !!, warning !! mentions of injury (floyd, jade)
note: it's currently my birthday in my timezone, thus i'm unveiling the first of this new series >:DD we've gotta give it up for floyd, it was him who gave me the idea of writing a historical fantasy au, which led to me doing the rest of them sjdkfsjf
[ part one out of seven in the noble gentlemen series ]
Out of all the unconventional nobles that existed, you had to admit that the rumors of the “Heretic Leech” piqued your interest more than others. His interruptions at parties were always interesting to listen to, though you found yourself wary to actually be in his company.
Yet ironically, the first time you met Floyd was at a grand party. There was a loud crash, and a servant kneeling in front of a man, profusely apologizing. There were whispers around you, and you barely caught the words “Oh Sevens, he’s doing it again.” before the man grabs the servant by the collar.
His voice was low and menacing as he spoke, "These shoes are my favorite y'know..." You swallowed, half-terrified at finally meeting the madman everyone denounced.
The servant looked halfway to fainting when the man suddenly started giggling, "Ju~st kidding! They were my favorite, I don't like them anymore." The room reluctantly resumed its earlier festivities as he patted the servant, "Your face was so funny I couldn't help myself~"
Unluckily, he caught your stare and a lazy grin showed up on his face. "You wanna play too~?" He crooned, walking up to you in big strides. Oh no. No, no, no. It was no good to get involved with someone nicknamed the "Heretic Leech".
But before you could walk away, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to the middle of the ballroom. He danced, haphazardly bumping into the others and grinning at you so brightly it was impossible to know what he was thinking and from that moment on, Floyd Leech started becoming a part of your life.
———
Floyd would always put on "performances" at any parties you two attended. These performances include tap dancing on the dining tables, as well as using his utensils to drum on crystalline cups. The others definitely don't appreciate it of course, but Floyd seemed to revel in the chaos that he created, smiling broadly at you.
"Eh~ Don't be such a spoilsport," He would pout, whenever you said that you saw guards coming. You actively weren't trying to spoil his fun, you just didn't want him to get arrested. (And as his sort-of-accomplice, you’d get arrested too.) But well...Floyd was the type of person that would think prison is fun.
———
Mood swings happen often with this troublesome noble, and a smiling Floyd can turn into a frowning one in an instant. Although it confused you at first, you've learned that it's best to ask him what he wants when he gets into one of my moods.
"Ugh, I promised but...I don't wanna see you," Floyd said shortly, refusing to budge from where he was sitting in the tree. You nodded lightly, circling the tree to somewhere where he can't see you. You asked him if it's okay if you stay here. More often than not if his first request is fulfilled he would halfheartedly agree with your request. If you accidentally fall asleep under the tree, you'd probably wake up to a smiling Floyd poking at your cheek; his previous bad mood forgotten.
———
Floyd got hurt. A lot. Whether it be from exchanging fisticuffs with other nobles or falling out of the trees he so often climbs, Floyd always has some form of injury or another. (Not to mention injuries from his blood-stained side job that he kept away from you.) He somehow mastered the art of unlocking your window from the outside, often inviting himself in just to show you his new injury.
"Hey, you'll patch me up right?" Once you gave him an affirmation, he smiled, squeezing you tightly. "Man, you're the best!" Yes, yes, you were the best. But also, how would you explain to the others in your household the concerning amount of money you spent on medical supplies? (And you often wondered where he got these injuries. Surely there weren't that many people who were eager to pick fights with Floyd…unless…? Were the rumors of the Heretic being an assassin really true?)
The name Jade Leech wasn't something unfamiliar. You've heard whispers that spoke of danger and death in darkened corners— a Reaper in all senses— and praises of an upstanding noble in prestigious gatherings. However, it wasn't until after the first meeting that you understood why people feared his name.
You had an unfortunate run-in with him late one night. And by unfortunate, you happened to be the sole witness of one of his assassinations.
You turned a corner. One second there had been a man in front of you, and in the next second, he had collapsed in a heap. You rushed to help him before a hand grasped your wrist.
The movement pulled you away from the body and a pair of mismatched eyes greeted you from the shadows. Your heart plummeted as you remembered the rumors, and you almost shivered as the man in the shadows spoke, "Oh, you poor unfortunate soul. If only you hadn't walked this way."
There was a sharp sting of something and your vision faded to black. When you woke up, you were safely tucked into your bed, with no recollection of how you got there. There was, however, a scented note on your bedside, "Do not run if you value your life." followed by the initials J.L.
Your attendant burst into your room soon after, "Master! Marquis Leech has sent you an offer to work with him!" And that was the start of your very dangerous employment with Jade Leech.
———
Jade obviously kept you on the more legal side of his business. But he still showed you hints of his more illegal dealings, leaving a bloody knife there, or a severed finger here. You tried telling him that it was unnecessary, not to mention unsanitary, and he blinked at you before bursting into laughter.
"My, so you aren't one to be easily scared, huh?" Jade smiled; something so disarmingly polite that it made you avert your eyes. "I'll have to keep that in mind for next time..." Wait...next time...? It wasn't until you spoke to those around him that you learn that the Jade Leech was fond of pranks. (That was, if you could call leaving people's body parts scattered around a prank.)
———
Jade Leech, assassin guild master extraordinaire, was a collector of rare plants. Your favorite part of your job as his new...assistant, was to water these plants in the greenhouse adjacent to his mansion. It was always damp and humid there, but you didn't mind, since you liked seeing the rarities that Jade ever so carefully grew.
"Are you fond of them?" Jade's voice startled you, and you looked up, wide-eyed, to see him standing not too far away from you. "Why don't you take one that suits your fancy? Oh, don't touch that one though. We use that to cultivate poison, fufufu~" You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but you decided never to touch any plants you didn't recognize. Especially the strange mushrooms you found growing on a log underneath a tarp. Those looked...especially dangerous.
———
Jade seldom got hurt, but the one time that he did, he sought you for help. It was no surprise to you that he knew where you lived, but it was definitely a surprise to walk into your room and find your boss bleeding all over your floor. In a panic, you almost called your servants but he stopped you with a hand on your arm.
"Ngh... Apologies for...the intrusion. Yours was...the closest... The wound isn't deep..." Jade took a shallow breath, and his eyelashes fluttered in the moonlight. "I know...how to treat it. Would you...help me?" You bit your lip as you nodded, grabbing a cloth to staunch the blood.
After doing emergency first aid, you helped him stumble back to his house. Someone who looked identical to him— his twin, your mind supplied— took him from your arms and told you to wait in the drawing room. You just prayed that Jade would be okay… (After a few sleepless hours, Jade was good as new with the addition of a new scar on his side.)
It was no secret that the biggest restaurants and bars were all under the Ashengrotto name. However, what caught your interest was the rumors of there being an information guild run by Lady Ashengrotto's son, a charismatic young man who created the guild from the ground up.
When you walked into the bar, you were surprised at how classy everything was. There was a buzz in the air as the customers laughed, drank, and dined. You tugged your hood over your head, making a beeline for the bar.
A silver-haired bartender gave you a smile as you settled into one of the high chairs, "What can we offer you tonight, dear customer?" You recite the words that others told you to say before: you can’t get something for nothing.
The bartender looks surprised for a moment before he recovered, "Because everything has a price. Let me lead you to the back, dear customer, and you can tell me what services you require."
When you tell him that you want to talk to the Azul Ashengrotto, the bartender laughed heartily. He turned to you, sliding on a pair of steel-framed glasses, "Well then, dear customer, you are now talking to the Azul Ashengrotto." He leaned forward, a charming smile on his face, "What kind of deal would you like to make with the devil?"
———
Azul was strange company. After your consultation with him, your contract stated that you are forbidden to seek him out. But it turned out to be quite the one-sided statement when Azul sought you out himself. You had to come up with various excuses for the people of your estate as to why Azul Ashengrotto was once again sitting in the drawing room for the nth time that week.
"What is it?" Azul's gloved fingers tapped on the table lightly. "Oh, are your people growing suspicious? Why don't you inform them that we have some business with each other?" As if it was that easy. Azul was supposed to be someone hard to reach, not someone who invited himself over to another's house almost daily.
———
It turned out that Azul would offer performances at one of his more high-end restaurants every once in a while. He sent you an invitation to one of these performances and well...it would be a waste to turn down such an invitation, right? Well, consider yourself amazed. His elegant playing and powerful singing voice had you at the edge of your seat.
"How was it, dear customer?" He had you escorted to his office after the show. "Did it match up to your expectations?" If you decided to earnestly compliment him, you'd find a strangely flustered expression on the usually unruffled gentleman's face. He would dismiss your observations as a trick of the light, but Azul Ashengrotto was surprisingly weak to praise. (He invited you to the next performance after that too. And the next one. And the next one—)
———
When Azul finally handed over a folder with all the information that you requested, it marked the end of your contract. You had paid half of the price in money, and the other half was to be repaid by favor of Azul's choosing. A dangerous way to repay something, you knew, especially at the hands of someone notoriously scheming.
Azul carefully looked at the folder before flicking his eyes to your face, "Honestly, I could've delivered the information the week you hired me, but...you were a very amusing customer, so I got a bit too carried away." He smiled, something that touched his eyes for the first time, "My request to you is to keep in touch with me." Oh. That was a surprisingly sweet request. It was almost like—
"Oh, and let us rendezvous at least once a week," Azul chuckled. "The atmosphere at your house is very pleasant indeed." ...And there was the catch you were looking for. Well...it wasn't an impossible request. And besides, it wasn't such a bad thing to let the information guild master have tea at your house, right?
[ bonus: how do these nobles know each other ? ]
— Jade and Floyd are naturally related. The Leech family businesses and the assassination guild were passed on to Jade when he became of age. With Floyd having no interest in doing the paperwork, he chose to work as an assassin instead. And because Jade was often engaged in maintaining these businesses, he lets Floyd attend any parties or invitations on his behalf.
— The main reason Floyd gets injured a lot is exactly because he's an assassin for hire. (Only for the best price, of course.) Half of his injuries are attributed to the resistance he faces in getting to his target. In return, Jade bails him out of any trouble he gets into.
— The two love wrecking the rhythm of high society, Floyd in the limelight of day and Jade through the cover of night. You could say that they're two peas in a pod in that sense. (And their nickname was the Twin Reapers...it just goes to show how much influence they had over the aristocrats of the city.)
— Jade and Azul met each other through mutual interest, being the leaders of two very lucrative guilds. They both agreed to merge their businesses together— after a thorough contract was written, naturally. Now the two essentially run the underground world together.
— Although they both run the underground together, Azul preferred killing as a last resort. He thought that it's better to corner a rat and use it to your advantage before finally disposing of it when you deem it past its usefulness. (Jade has since adopted that mentality when extracting information...)
— As for Floyd and Azul... Floyd thinks that Azul's restaurants were cool, so he part-timed there when he wants to get out of social gatherings. Azul appreciated the sentiment, but he preferred to put Floyd behind the bar or in the kitchen to limit the trouble he can get himself into. (The taller got himself into trouble anyway, being the thrill seeker he is.)
thank you for reading !! i hope that you enjoyed these drabbles :D if you'd like to see more, you can check out my masterlist, or the rest of the noble gentlemen series !
#/trau writes#floyd leech#jade leech#azul ashengrotto#floyd leech x reader#jade leech x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#ok but these were so fun to write jskfsjdf#i love writing abt they <33
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you’re an angel, i’m a dog ; satoru gojo
synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.
word count; 4.3k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.
a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…
satoru thinks you deserve everything good.
”haah…”
— the sigh spills into the air, dripping with exhaustion, a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching.
just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.
another sigh. deep, exasperated — from satoru, this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment.
”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”
you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.
”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”
he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”
then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.
even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.
but you just won’t listen.
”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”
a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.
”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”
at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.
”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”
and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.
time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right.
of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.
still, though.
”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”
you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”
”my little night owl.”
that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.
with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”
satoru softens.
(always so good to him.)
”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”
in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.
he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.
satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease.
satoru thinks you deserve everything good.
it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.
so he’s been worried.
it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.
he just doesn’t trust your professor.
that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.
it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.
(it was only a matter of time.)
satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.
and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —
it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.
it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled.
there’s only one way to satiate it.
so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.
then he grabs his coat and slips outside.
the moon is visible through the window.
a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast.
(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)
”who… w — what are — ?”
satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure.
just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick.
he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.
he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.
he just can’t bring himself to care.
”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”
silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat.
it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.
satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”
another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.
then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”
the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.
before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”
it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair.
he wouldn’t lay a finger on her.
but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.
a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.
the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.
finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve.
three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly.
there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact.
that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.
(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?
it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)
there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.
and there you are.
on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes.
you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.
suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.
“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”
his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.
“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.”
he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch.
but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.
satoru would never cage you in. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious.
so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.
(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)
“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.
“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”
“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”
satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat.
and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance.
“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”
and he grins. like clockwork. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”
again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”
“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”
and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.
“right! i almost forgot!”
then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.
he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.
but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance.
satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.
you, you, you. the only thing that exists.
all of him is for you.
”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw.
”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting, slipping from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”
”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”
another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.
so precious that he forgets about everything else.
this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care.
you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.
it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it.
(something worth cherishing, no matter the cost.)
as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date.
satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.
“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”
satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”
“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“
“— yet.”
a pause.
satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”
a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist.
he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”
a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.
“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”
satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.
”you’re so gross.”
a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”
”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue.
”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.”
”charmer.”
”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”
and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything that’s good, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches a flicker of joy dance within your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.
the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think.
satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back.
so why not bear the weight of your burdens?
all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.
he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.
“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”
he prays it never will.
#im a lil unsure how to feel abt this piece i feel like it lost its flow pretty quickly 😔👉👈but i rlly did have fun writing it hehe#my baseline for yan!gojo is basically; a kind man who’s so in love w u that he’s willing to compromise his own morals to keep u safe#he’s not particularly possessive or even obsessive?? to him violence really is just . a necessary means to keep u happy#this is almost definitely the only yan piece ill ever write bUT im very fond of this gojo … he’s a tortured little meowmeow <33#cw yandere#yandere gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#tw yandere
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KEEP THE DANGER OUT // KEEP THE DANGER IN
#billie bust up#bbu billie#bbu fantoccio#robin’s art#2024 art#COMPANION PIECES BABY!!! started these last year (month) and finally finished em!!! :33#i could write an ENTIRE essay abt billie and fanto and their parallels and stuff#which actually i love tumblr tags. lets do some of that here!#okAY IM NOT GONNA GO INTO EVERYTHING BUT HERES A BASIC RUNDOWN OF SOME OF MY THOUGHTS#let’s start by looking at goatshire + the lost city of magic !!#both places have some kind of border around them keeping SOMETHING in/out#goatshire’s wall keeping the trolls/other danger out; keeping the villagers inside safe#and the city’s barrier keeping the curse inside; while keeping everyone outside safe from it#but in turn it’s also keeping billie and fanto trapped in their respective places#one moreso than the other i guess but ahahaha. haha. heh. OKAY MOVING FORTH#unrelated but how sick would it be if the barrier broke and let the curse out. just sayiiin.. a lil theory thats been on my mind recently#anyways back to THE POINT#okay this parts gonna sound insane BUT JUST HEAR ME OUT HERE#goatshire citizens / the cursed city citizens.#billie and fanto both kinda stick out in their respecitve homes; fanto being the only uncursed guy and billie with their magic#so theres like. a real disconnect between them and others there. u get what i mean.#theyre both outliers and like something something allegory for neurodivergence and struggling to connect with others probably#SORRY GETTING AHEAD OF MYSELF. idk how to explain it BUT DO U GET IT!!! DO U UNDERSTAND!!!!#also they were both abandoned by SOMEone stares at arthur#okay specifically whoever fanto’s cretaor was left him behind but u know me im such a fanto elmtwig jak#something something loneliness and being left behind and having ppl around you who kinds understand u but also not totally. kicks rock#someone get these siblings some THERAPY!!!!!!!#this was a very disjointed explanation bUT HOPEFULLY I GOT MOST OF MY THOUGHTS ACROSS GOOD. IM BAD AT EXPLAINING THINGS SORRY#someone order me a yappuccino!!!!! BYE!!!!
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I love the submissive Lasko agenda as much as the rest of you guys but I also I feel like Lasko could make a pretty good dom as well tbh. (small ns/fw hcs below, 16+)
It would have to be with someone he really trusts and is comfortable, probably a long term relationship (at least a few years). Hes def a switch with a HEAVY sub lean. Hes so used to falling into the submissive role, he needs time to get used to being in charge.
I'm torn between him being a really soft gentle dom with lots of soft praise ("You're doing so, so well for me. Thank you so much for trusting me with this..."). This scenario would probably play out if his partner asked for it, I feel like he would comply ("You've always taken such good care of me, I'd be honoured to do the same for you...")
or like, frustrated, frantic body worship where hes so pent up or frustrated about something, probably work or school, that he just jumps your bones as soon as he gets you alone ("I need you NOW. Fuck- you're so gorgeous, I'm obsessed-") and just mmhmmm :))
He could do it, he just needs a lil encouragement and I can give it to him please lasky just one chance-
#eggy writes*~#eggy writes spice?*~#lasko#redacted audio lasko#redacted lasko#lasko x reader#redacted lasko x reader#redacted asmr lasko#ra lasko#redacted audio lasko x reader#redacted asmr lasko x reader#ra lasko x reader#i love himm <33#baby#MY baby#wanna give him a lil smooch#I also feel like lasky would make a good obsessive yan#i don't think he could bring himself to kidnap you#hes just stalk you and tell you how beautiful sexy gorgeous you are#i have thoughts and i can finally talk abt them
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#the unsent project#spencer agnew#yes i am completely normal#about this man#dont ask#if i find more ill do it for other people too#crush tag#writing prompt#smosh unsent project#btw i submitted the one abt being embarrassed and idek if it went in yet#that was a time when my crush on spencer was like limerence level obsession#but yeah#whoever is still looking thru this#i wanna do more of these#and maybe even from other fandoms too??#i wanna do one for saltburn that would be fun <<33#dan and phil maybe?#the owl house? nimona? adventure time????#theres so many i could do with just their names and the website and me and my lil thumbs creating this on the world wide web big internet#i love you#drink some water#eat a snack#take a nap <33
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Okay, it's not a lot of thoughts, but! Zhen being raised by the Chameleon really reminded me of your Frida. I knoww Big Mama is trying to keep her away from the turtles and that their backgrounds are (presumably) pretty different, but still!!! Female villain raising a kid as her own daughter/henchperson and that daughter eventually betraying her (at least that's what I'm theorizing is eventually gonna go down with Frida and Big Mama) just. Waugh <3 It gets to me
yeah!!!! honestly i didn't even put together that their stories are similar until you just now pointed it out, but god yeah that kind of relationship is just so compelling to me (hence why i'm writing it)!! manipulative mother trying to further her own goals using a vulnerable child writing trope my beloved <3
#genderfluid-envy#i think i heard that the chameleon & zhen backstory was last minute which SUCKS bc there's so much potential there#but i can use that frustration to keep writing frida & big mama's relationship hehe#love hearing your thoughts and drawing parallels abt my silly little fic it genuinely delights me <33#tmib
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@sioster
karo, I'm gonna put the responses to your ad aeternum asks under a cut just bc I posted the fic not that long ago and don't wanna, like, majorly spoil it for anyone who hasn't had the time to read it yet but wants to (also bc it's finals season and so many people are busy)
(also putting under the cut because wow these got really long actually 😭)
wilbur never calls the dream from his timeline marzenie. it would feel unfair, I think. unfair to both of them. because as he does get to know the dream of his timeline, he really does come to care about the other, but he's kinda swamped with this guilt of worrying he's just using dream as a replacement? at least for a while, he is. (swamped with guilt) so, he finds ways to keep them separate in his mind.
marzenie is the nickname he gave to the alternate timeline dream. marzenie loved the nickname. wilbur's not going to take that away by giving it to someone else. besides, it was always meant to be a way to differentiate the dreams, anyway.
he has all sorts of loving nicknames for the other dream—he has more time to find these nicknames. darling, sunshine, starlight, love, etc. but never marzenie. marzenie will always belong to the dream who was enthralled by the beauty of the earth, who was the first in a very long time to hold wilbur, who bantered with him and danced with him and *sobs* yeah </3
it would be a bit complicated, a bit messy, but ultimately good, I think. there's bureaucratic issues in starfleet wondering if wilbur bringing marzenie to their timeline breaks the prime directive. some (who don't like wilbur being in starfleet due to his ancestry) would fight extra hard to dismiss him from starfleet. wilbur's crew would fight hard for him, though. so would the manhunt. so would others. and, in the end, considering the literal time agency hasn't come to say wilbur messed up the timeline by doing so, they can only assume it's okay.
there's a lot of grief, too. from marzenie. they didn't really have a lot of time to discuss it in the 21st century, but marzenie has lost pretty much anyone he's ever known and loved. there's joys with getting to know versions of sapnap and george and others who are alive, but they're still different versions. and the versions of the people he loved who are dead are still gone. and the versions of people he loved who are alive are still gone. and maybe he felt that those alive only saw him as something broken, but he still cared about them.
so, there's a lot of grief. but wilbur is there. and wilbur loves him. and it was either live with wilbur and the grief or be erased with his timeline and leave wilbur alone, and marzenie would always choose to stay.
there's other complications (marzenie was a captain in his timeline but has no starfleet training—he ends up on the syndicate as essentially non-starfleet personnel). there's also complications with this timeline's dream. and this timeline's dream team. and this timeline's manhunt. and where marzenie fits with them. complications with wilbur's relationship with this timeline's dream, too.
but, ultimately, it's good. marzenie bonds with the crew of the syndicate when he's figuring out what to do when he's not a captain in a war. he learns to bake with niki. he also spars with her. he gets close to techno. they also spar. he loses a fair amount. he continuously pushes wilbur to discuss the complicated relationship wilbur has with techno. the human members of the crews are people familiar to marzenie. he likes to get to know these versions. he convinces wilbur to sign up for therapy. he signs up for therapy himself.
it turns out he gets along really well with dream. they reach a point where they just start introducing themselves as twins. dream's parents include him in family dinners. dream's siblings just say they have another brother. george eventually transfers to the manhunt. the entire dream team complains about marzenie staying on the syndicate but in a light hearted way. the crews of the two ships get really close, actually, and they find lots of excuses to rendezvous. congrats they've unlocked a new level of friendship
things with wilbur and marzenie are really good. they explore the earth together. they take shore leave together and travel. they cuddle and write songs. when marzenie decides to write a book, wilbur reads it and gives advice. they adopt a cat together. they peel oranges for each other. it's all really soft and domestic. and they love each other and they love their friends and they heal together. and everyone's really happy.
(anyway, I think some days wilbur would wake up after extremely vivid dreams (pun not intended) of the above scenario. he'll have incredibly vivid dreams of a universe where marzenie was never shot. and a lot of the dreams take inspiration where he's found himself in life—the crews of the syndicate and manhunt get close. they hang out a lot, actually. wilbur writes more music. wilbur goes to therapy. wilbur gets a cat. when the ships meet up, wilbur & dream often cuddle together at night. etc etc.
but I think the dreams with marzenie would be so vivid, that for a moment he'd wake up and wonder where marzenie was. on especially bad days, he wakes up with bleary eyes and, for a moment, thinks this timeline's dream is marzenie.
and he feels incredibly guilty afterwards. and in particularly bad days, he holds dream close and says "I love you" over and over again with emphasis on the "you" just so dream knows. and dream doesn't fully understand, but dream knows wilbur's been through a lot, and he knows healing isn't linear, so he just holds wilbur close and repeats the same words to him)
#my computer logged me out of my computer when I was in the middle of writing this post :/#anyway thank you for asking abt them karo <33 I love talking abt my fic lol#ad aeternum#c!dreambur#writing from the void#stella answers#karo sioster
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is it just me and my delusional poly nxx brainrot or are they making nxx supar domestic-like lately 🤨
#i have so many screenshots of this event pls#they just#the one where they were having a meeting in the morning??? like 😭😭💕#‘but we can discuss this after breakfast’#‘why tf did u take out your tablet and show us then??’#‘so you know what we’ll be discussing later 🤨’#LMFAOOO#artem 🤝 marius ;; being passive aggressive to eachother#luke 🤝 vyn 🤝 rosa ;; sipping their coffee and watching this whole thing#also marius bullying vyn abt waking up late and vyn being like this mf better stfu 😭#i love them#more drabbles for nxx/reader in my drafts neow 🤭#tears of themis#tot#!tot events#ALSO THE INVITATION IS SO ROETTY THE LOOK VYN GIVES MARIUS LMAOO#and when they look over at you to make sure youre okay ‼️‼️#can i get a smooch between everyone thanks#im so happy tho cuz like ive been writing on the quiz thing if they could have the nxx boys be more friendly to eachother and have the whole#nxx team be more ykyk and not have it be a battle between the guys cuz their dynamics over fighting is bettar#like?? artem leaning against the bookshelf ; marius blocking the door ; vyn mocking emmy and luke faking an attack#that was so hot just me ? ok 💃#they literally know how to read eachother’s minds without a glance and it means sm to me#rosa is proud of her boys too <33#poly nxx
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getting compliments on my writing always makes me go
#just in general#you guys dont get it#every compliment i get has me frothing at the mouth and slamming my head into a wall /pos#(i cant handle compliments. it makes me short circuit every time)#someone just told me theyre subscribed to me and?????? i would die for you?????/#i struggle a lot with being nice to myself abt my writing so hearing so many of you really enjoying my stuff helps me a lot <33#genuinely. im learning self love and all of u are helping <3#summer post
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AAAAAAAA PREMISE = DONE
#sophie talks : love is war#its ok i can talk abt this bc my main haitham wips are done#the cyno fic will be completed slowly and so will this since its a series ;w;#but hhhhhh im so exited to write this yall have no idea#and no i will not shut up abt this <33
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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
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ngl i do not trust the fate canon or fandom with hakuno. i'll try to keep this brief (1/47586)
SVCKSBCJ I'M KIDDING but yeah to me canon to me seems stuck in between treating hakuno as a character of her own but also a self insert even though the entire Point of her character was becoming a person of her own. this is especiaally prominent in later instalments methinks (the way they don't even refer to her by her name "hakuno kishinami" in her character description and just call her "master" or "heroine"....... some crimes cannot be forgiven actually-) so, well, i'll still try to keep up to date on canon hakuno content but i lost hope in it ever feeding me the hakuno content i crave 💔
sO YEAH BASICALLY I DECIDE 2 BE THE CHANGE I WANT 2 SEE IN THE WORLD canon is the blueprint but i'm gonna write hakuno with my own personal interpretation + hcs n_n 💖 i still love the canon content we get, don't get me wrong, but i will most definitely be cherrypicking to my liking! this isn't really a big notice but i just felt like saying it 😳 also if you ever want to interact or just know more about MY interpretation of hakuno, then my blog's got all ya need tbh!! me gently taking your hands away from actual fate canon like haha yes ^_^ so what do u wanna know about this moon girl? also honestly if u wanna know more abt her just message me ❤️ I WOULD BE MOAR THAN HAPPY 2 TALK SLASH RAMBLE
#&&. out of#I KNOWWWW i make it veeery obvious that i'm hc-based but like T_T idk i just feel the need to... give a disclaimer#and my h.akuno's all sorts of separate from canon Maybe she could be considered an oc (WHICH I WOULD BE SO PROUD OF OFC) but like#naur i'm just here hoping to do her justice 😔👏 i love her character sm she is so important 2 meee#i've been looking thru my ref/notes of canon stuff so that's why i've been screeching abt this I LOVE HER SM FRFR 😭😭😭#definitely making my h.akuno first game based methinks ... maybe post-e.xtra and set a bit after she survives the war#but def not sth like e.xtella Bye 💀#most of my mutuals aren't very familiar with h.akuno's canon anyway WHICH IS MORE THAN OKAY- i gotchu bbygirls (gender neutral)#i'm working on writing a post of the stuff h.akuno's been thru (but more general and less..... f.ate sgjfhsjf) 2 let u kno <33#sorry i'm repetitive but i genuinely love her character sm 🥺🥺 the way the events have a clear effect on her personality and u see the way#she learns to understand herself through understanding others and is genuinely such a selfless and kind person despite all she's been thru#but also obviously has a Lot of baggage and a lot of room for development.. she's not perfect but is still trying her best ;__;#I LOVE HER SM U DESERVE SM BETTER BBYGIRLLLL 😭😭😭😭😭#anyway i'll shut up now sgsckshkfjd#STAN H.AKUNO !!!!!
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what if i told u im thinking of doing a 100% rin only valentines event 🤕
#it’s only fair i celebrate the day w my one and only love am i right#🥹 there’d probably be some prompts to choose from sfw and not#im wrapping up my semester on the 2nd so i’d have plenty time to write finally hshskska#i might also publish either after dark or i&i p2 by that point too so that’d be nice!!!!#n i still have a few asks abt him sitting in my drafts so <33 rinnie overload but he deserves nothing less
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elaborating on the Power a scene of mike coming out to el would have... like just the fact that especially if mike goes thru an arc this season where he eventually feels safe enough to admit to himself that he’s gay and that he’s been hiding/repressing it to survive in Hawkins... and how that would line up with how El’s been running from her past for the last few seasons but in s4 she finally has to really confront it and so he’d understand, in his own way, what it’s like to always be hiding in plain sight because there’s people who want to hurt you that go along with the things you are burying... But how exhausting it becomes to always be trying to blend in and run away... and now he’s seen the way El was able to face her past head-on this season and it gives him the courage to want to stop running too and really reckon with what he’s been running from himself. Especially because now he knows he has people who.. *looks back at Will* who understand what it’s like and have found their own people and know places where they don’t have to hide who they are either. LIKE something like that would only strengthen their friendship while also giving each of them their own development. it just... god that would just be so beautiful :’)
OR THIS MONOLOGUE IS BEFORE THE SORTA CLIMAX OF THE ARC AND MIKE AND EL BOTH PROMISING EACH OTHER THEY’LL FACE THEIR OWN STRUGGLES HEAD ON... LIKE. COME ON YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT DOESN’T HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO HIT LIKE A TON OF BRICKS!!
#ALSO THE NARRATIVE SIGNIFICANCE OF MIKES LAST MONOLOGUE BEING ABT ASKING WILL TO BE HIS FRIEND...#but now that feeling has grown to be something stronger than friendship.. so mikes monologue like this is sorta a transition in his life..#like falling in love with will and wanting to be best friends with el still... not wanting to lose her over who he is and who he loves..#(yes i just ref'd the Cant Fight This Feeling lyrics... i simply think that being the song playing the first time Hop tries to give his#heart-to-heart could be foreshadowing <3)#talk abt Subverting expectations by making ur platonic confession JUST as impactful as your romantic ones#(cuz i wouldnt accept half-assing the byeler shit either ofc not)#like damn ok maybe its cheesy but i Love that shit.. love my good ol fashion american sugar coated stories all right..#litrlly they are best friends wahhh#listen at this point if s4 disappoints im gonna write SUCH a good and healing gay fantasy fix-it fic all right???#i was in the fall 2019 it fandom i know the drill LMAO#i have the perfect sweet byler ending scene in mind like... <33#its sweet but also opens up for my own personal theory for what s5 is gonna look like which is p dark.. n does include will w powers but in#diff way than ive seen most ppl discuss it..#im so bad at watching tv cuz i always wanna write along w it LMAOOO#silver cat speaks
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#whenever people comment on my fic saying that it feels so true to the show or like an actual episode i just...feel so warm#it's really the highest compliment that you could give me#bc i'm not used to writing fic and i'm always worried abt getting the characterization wrong#but everyone has been so kind and I just#i really love you guys <33#(and i will respond to all the comments once i find the bandwith to asjdkdkd)#neethu speaks#personal stuff
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YOUR BRAIN ?????? JAKE ASKING FOR THEM TO BE PARTNERS BC ALL THE TEACHERS LOVE HIM … i couldnt even connect the dots u r crazy !!!!!!!!
LMAO THANK YOU SUE <33 okay but fr i can just imagine the teachers not even batting an eye at his request bc they just adore him sm 🤭🤭 lol i actually had a teacher who was always trying to set up his students with each other except he was always rlly obvious when interfering which made for some very awkward moments in his class 😅
#hru doing baefy? i hope you're doing great <33#and thank you again for writing those hcs !!#im very much obsessed with them#i keep smiling everytime i think abt them 🤭#@soobnny ♡#fae’s lovely moots! ♡#fae’s mail ☆
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