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first love / late spring - chapter one

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

wc: 4620

rating: 18+ - warnings posted in masterlist

a/n: extremely nervous to post a fic that delves into clan history and jujutsu society (especially one focused on the elite sorcerer families), but after two years of formulating this idea the anime release of the spv arc finally compelled me to write all my thoughts out. 50k words later, I currently have 9 chapters written out and have a general outline of the ending so I hope to release chapters on a weekly basis (though I might post the second chapter tomorrow). end rant

read on ao3 here | masterlist

Get him to confess.

The task is simple enough, despite the request coming from someone who is anything but.

“About time you got here!” His toothy grin and teasing tone don’t seem to show his impatience, but the frequent tapping of his foot and his crossed arms indicate otherwise.

“We all can’t teleport at a moment’s notice.” Finally reaching the end of the long hallway, you briefly greet a nervous Ijichi and raise a brow at the blindfolded man next to him. “Also, this place is wrecked, or at least it’s more destroyed since the good ol’ high school years. The curse user did all this?”

If even possible, Gojo Satoru’s smile grows wider. Certainly more smug. “Nah, that was all me.”

Of course it was.

“I’m sure Yaga was absolutely overjoyed to see such destruction,” you prefer to say, lazily stretching your arms as you peer at the door behind the two men. “Anyway, anything I should be aware of before I start?”

Ijichi looks up from his clipboard, usually timid eyes hardening as he clears his throat. “Aside from the cause of the attack, we would greatly appreciate it if you could dive deeper into his relationship with the cursed spirit that had encountered Nanami-san before. Ieiri-san will confirm shortly, but that cursed spirit is likely responsible for 11 casualties alone.”

It’s difficult to mask the frown on your face and your stiffened shoulders, so you nod furtively instead. “I’ll try my best. But if he made a binding vow to keep quiet, the only thing that I’ll be invoking is his death.”

However, Satoru easily discerns the real reason for your unease, his amused hum getting on your nerves. “Last time I checked, our favorite ex-salaryman was at Shoko’s office. You might still be able to catch him if you get this done quickly.”

“Don’t rush me.” It isn’t your intention to snap–least of all at the man who practically knows all your triggers–but you guess one hasn’t had a bad day until they’ve heard an annoying quip from the strongest sorcerer.

Making your way to the door, you conveniently ignore any other irritating comments as you open the padlock and focus on entering the low-lit room in front of you.

“Hey! You’re not that old wrinkly man!” Although his hands and neck are bound by thick, talisman-covered ropes, he writhes excitedly at your presence.

Unable to control his growing wolfish grin, the curse user rambles on about making a nice-smelling coat rack out of your bones. You can only sigh tiredly as you already feel the pounding headache looming on the horizon–sure, disliking Gakuganji is such a universal experience that even curse users sully his name, but Ijichi could’ve done a better job prepping you on how to handle this unhinged mess.

No matter. Just get him to confess.

Standing with your legs apart, you inhale deeply and dreadfully peel your eyes away from the talisman-littered walls to scour for a particular spot on the man in front of you.

It doesn’t take more than ten seconds, though it might’ve taken less had he stopped squirming so much.

Like most other sorcerers and curse users, it encompasses the entire body but is mostly concentrated in the lower end of the abdomen. The first color that pops out is an angry red so bright that you almost miss the muted yellow and burnt orange barely occupying the jagged edges.

Over the years, you’ve heard varying perspectives on what it means to have a soul. Many classmates, colleagues, and relatives firmly believe the body and soul are equal. The body is the soul and the soul is the body–two concepts used so interchangeably that the choice to use one over the other simply falls on whether the person saying it is in a whimsical mood that day.

If it weren’t for your cursed technique, you’d be more inclined to agree with that concrete view.

But treating them as one and the same is something you now consider to be an absurd idea, especially as you peer into the curse user’s soul–a violent red blob you’d liken to Mars. In spite of the talismans suppressing his cursed energy, the Red Planet within him glows voraciously, encouraging his body to continually resist his restraints. Contributing him to speak nonsensically about his deranged passion for killing sorcerers and carving intricate items from their remains. (“Wallets, coat racks, even a leather jacket!”)

Influencing him to cling onto the few thin shreds of dignity he has left, so that he can stay quiet when asked about his motives for his needless attacks at the Goodwill Event.

You never tire of catching a glimpse of someone’s soul. Such a beautiful, abstract dimension that ultimately shapes the body to interact with this cursed world. A seemingly intangible dimension that still faces incredibly tangible–even catastrophic–effects whenever its physical shield is in harm’s way.

While your clan elders might not so easily agree, you’ve slowly come to consider your ability a coveted privilege.

Yet as you lift your steady, open hand–the cursed energy frenetically pouring out and tightly wrapping around the waist of the now-wincing coat rack fanatic–you can never completely wash away the shame of how this gift is, first and foremost, a curse.

“As much as I’d love to hear about your upcoming fall collection, I have more pressing matters to attend to after this chat.”

His eyes enlarge to the point that they reflect your unperturbed figure, and for the first time, you think you finally spot lucidity tinged with a sliver of fear. “I can’t say anything because I don’t know anything, I swear!”

“Look, I’m running out of patience and the number of ways to explain this–I’m getting the truth out of you, one way or another.”

So you activate the technique with a seal–the tapping of your hand against your chin.

And you then squeeze your other hand into a fist.

–

“Is he okay?”

Although it’s quite clear that something is wrong with the crouching white-haired boy, face buried in his hands as he mutters something you can’t hear over the considerable distance.

“Pay no mind, Konaka-sama,” Satomi warns, the servant’s hand tightening around yours as she tries to lead you to another part of the colorfully lit estate, keen on returning to the festivities where everyone else is happily washing down savory food with copious amounts of Juyondai.

After all, it’s not every day that the Big Three Sorcerer Families gather and celebrate a successful round of treaty negotiations and sorcery policies.

While it’s a miracle that none of the clan heads ripped each other’s throats out, Satomi is not sure the same will be said if you approach the hurt boy.

“The Six Eyes is the responsibility of the Gojo clan, not ours.”

That curt response seems to backfire, Satomi gulping nervously when you tug right back, feet refusing to move as you question, “Then why is no one helping him? We’re the only ones here!”

“I’m sure he will be attended to soon–Konaka-sama, don’t go!”

Disobedience is unbecoming of a woman. Your father’s grave words replay in your mind, balling your fists as you walk toward the young boy, his presence more suffocating with each step. It makes for an unfit wife.

In the end, it’s the last words of your mother that spring you to action, who told you to help those in need before she succumbed to her own illness.

But when you hesitantly tap on his shoulder, receiving a quick slap to your wrist as stormy pools glare at your shocked face, you realize that Gojo Satoru doesn’t want help.

“What are you looking at?” Before he can continue, he winces and shuts his eyes, once again hiding his head from the light. A strange sight from someone whose intense cursed energy makes full-grown adults cower in the same position he’s currently in. “Leave!”

You’re not sure what exactly his Six Eyes do–something about seeing everyone’s flow of cursed energy? Perhaps that’s why you shouldn’t zone out during the clan history portion of your tutor’s lessons.

But it doesn’t take a genius–or even your technique–to know that the precious power bestowed on those eyes is the reason for the pain he’s experiencing, another impatient cry demanding you to leave him alone.

“It’s because there’s tons of people, right?”

“What?” he groans, exasperated. Hands nurse his throbbing head, wondering if he should try finding another secluded part of this garden. (He’d even prefer the raucous music and laughter over this irritating girl!) The Konaka grounds are tiny compared to the Gojo estate, but not that small.

“The celebratory meal and festival,” you explain patiently and softly, though your fingers refuse to touch him again in fear of retaliation, “there were a lot of people at once, too much information.”

Another pause.

“Did you run away from your servants?”

He remains silent, lips taut, yet the harsh way he rubs his closed eyes and the beads of sweat on his ghostly pale skin provide a sufficient answer.

Sighing dramatically, you grab the sleeve of his dragonfly-patterned yukata and use all of your strength to drag the heavy ten-year-old boy.

“Gosh, get up!” you complain, immediately sighing in relief after he surprisingly complies, his other arm covering his eyes while you ignore Satomi’s protests and begin leading him to a certain area. “Stop being a crybaby!”

“I’m not crying! And let me go!”

“Why? ‘Fraid you’ll get cooties?” Tightening your grip on his wrist, you turn around to catch his expression, giggling at his disgruntled mumbling and the slight pinkish-red hue dusting his cheeks.

“Where are we even going?”

“It’s a secret! A Konaka specialty!” To top it off, you look back and shoot him a cheery close-eyed grin.

When Gojo realizes you won’t elaborate, he huffs, head and eyes in too much pain to fight back.

What feels like an eternity lasts only a few minutes, as the boy hears you mutter a phrase before the door is opened and he is quickly ushered inside.

“You can open your eyes now,” you offer lightly, poorly leading him to a chair as you blindly look for a match to bring some light into the dark place.

He only listens to your suggestion once the pounding sensation subsides, relief coursing through his veins almost instantly as he wonders if the worst part has passed.

That is until he finds himself in a tiny, windowless room, walls covered with so many talismans that it almost seems like they were part of a tacky wallpaper purchased on sale.

Right. Talismans.

The clan that makes the best seals in sorcerer society. The Konaka specialty.

His sharp eyes meet your curious ones, the lit candles casting an eerie glow on your face. Scratching your head, you ask, “How often you get those?”

“What did you do to me, small fry?” He immediately stands up, only to sit back down as the eye pain rears its ugly head.

“First of all, I’m just a year younger than you, so don’t call me small fry.” You stick your tongue out at him as he returns the gesture, though you figure it’s better to focus your energy on an explanation rather than argue with him.

“But I didn’t do anything. The talismans constrain cursed energy, or that’s what sensei says. So I thought this would help lower the background noise for your eyes.”

You tilt your head, a finger tapping your chin while gazing at his annoyed face. “My brother said you’re smart. Shouldn’t you know this?”

Gojo groans, eager to return to normalcy so he can get out of here. “Why do you blab on and on? I don’t even know who you are.”

Although he’s not even sure he wants to know, especially when he sees you pout and glare daggers at him. As if that would do anything.

“You’re one to talk! And you know my older brother better, father usually sends me to the countryside during the ‘meeting of the Big Three’, he says it’s not”–you put air quotes around the next phrase, deepening your voice to poorly imitate the old man–“‘Fitting for a young, growing lady to meddle in the affairs of men.’”

His eyes slightly widen in recognition, attaching the weak, almost muted, cursed energy to a face he’s mostly seen in passing. “You’re the only daughter of the Konaka clan head.”

“Unfortunately!” you supply, almost too happily. “That title means nothing. I’ll probably end up as some servant, anyway.”

“Well, that’s because you’re weak.”

“Huh?!”

Gojo shrugs casually, as if he’s stating that the sky is blue and the grass green. “My eyes don’t lie. Your technique seems cool I guess, but you run out of cursed energy easily which means you can’t control it. How do you expect to be anything beyond a servant if you can’t handle the basics?”

His bland, almost bored, expression remains unfazed as your frown deepens and an eye twitches. “You can’t even stand up without almost passing out. Who’s the weak one again?”

Gojo’s shoulders stiffen as he crosses his arms, gaining a renewed interest in the wall behind you as he feels the tips of his ears get hot. “I’ve beaten dudes and curses three times your size. I’ll take you on any day, small fry.”

“I should’ve paid attention to Satomi,” you murmur, regretting to stop and help this brat, “because you obviously don’t have friends.”

“I have friends!”

“Your servants don’t even like you.”

“And yours do?”

With narrowed eyes and an affronted gasp, you point an accusing finger at the pesky boy before you stand up from your seat, positively fuming. “How dare you! Satomi loves me! Shut up, or else–!”

“Or what? A tiny fly like you is gonna hurt me?” Gojo stands up as well, forehead almost butting with yours as he refrains from hitting a member of the clan that is graciously hosting his family.

He laughs airily at your feeble attempt to slap him, your eyes comically large when you realize that you can’t even touch him. “Are you cryin’?”

Before anything can be said, the door opens, and a flurry of servants rush in, some apologizing and bowing to Gojo while others whisk your writhing figure away.

“I’ll beat you up, you spoiled brat! You won’t see it comin’!”

“I’d like to see you try!” Gojo laughs, his cheeky smile the last thing you see.

And it’s only when someone asks how he’s feeling does he notice that he hasn’t felt pain in the last few minutes. The room actually worked.

In fact, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this excited.

He never tells you this, however. Not even after you’re forced to apologize to the brat in front of your father and the rest of the clan elders–a truly mortifying experience your brothers still tease you for–or within the almost two decades you’ve known the man you begrudgingly call a friend.

Because Gojo’s soul–much like the soul of another man you know–has always been a bit hard to read, containing truths you’re not sure you’ll ever be privy to.

Even if you tried to get it out of him, one way or another.

–

You hear his voice as you stand in front of the closed door to Shoko’s office. You didn’t plan to stay outside and listen in like some stalker, but your hand falters around the knob as soon as your ears faintly catch the familiar cadence. The calm, measured tone that has, for you at least, become as recognizable as that garish tie of his.

At least Gojo wasn’t lying to you earlier.

Certain that they’re aware of your presence and afraid that any second longer would make you closer to being branded as a creep, you squeeze your eyes shut as you rap on the door as quickly as you open it.

From your peripheral vision you catch a glimpse of the suited-up man, though it takes all your strength to focus on the woman standing across from him instead.

“Ah, took you long enough.” After greeting you with a small smile, Shoko pops another piece of nicotine gum into her mouth before throwing the now empty container into the trash can by her desk so it can join the several other discarded wrappers and packs.

That, along with the darker eye bags contrasting her paler-than-usual skin, is indication enough of how stressed she must be with handling the injuries (and casualties) of today. “You get any more info from the weirdo before I submit this report?”

You don’t expect the exhausted sigh that leaves your body, acutely aware of two pairs of astute eyes observing you. “Nothing pertaining to your medical investigation. I already told Gojo and Ijichi about some monk the coat rack guy wouldn’t shut up about.”

The visible disappointment on her face is almost comical. “Oh well, I was hoping to get more intel on the cursed spirit Nanami was telling me about. At least I don’t have to make any more revisions.”

“I actually had questions about this soul-shaping cursed spirit everyone keeps on mentioning. How did–?”

Piling together a rather large stack of papers from her desk and that beloved egg-shaped office chair, the nude heels of the doctor clack loudly against the linoleum tiles as she passes by you. “Would love to chat, but I need to get this to the higher-ups. How about you ask Nanami about it and we’ll all catch up over drinks later?”

The tiny coy smirk on Shoko’s face is for your eyes only, but there’s no way the perceptive blond doesn’t catch your embarrassed reaction to the innocuous question. Though she always claims that she would never stoop to Gojo’s schemes, you’re wondering if he’s starting to rub off on her after all these years.

When she promptly closes the door, all those frantic thoughts are thrown outside with her as you nervously glance at a staring Nanami Kento.

The sleeves of his blue button-up are pulled up to reveal bulging forearms, his tie slightly askew and the beige blazer unexpectedly thrown haphazardly across a chair rather than carefully hanging on a hook. A singular golden strand strays from his typically kempt hair, almost as if he had run his fingers through it once or twice. It seems like everyone is having a long day.

When walking inside, you had several strongly worded sentences neatly lined up in your head, ready to fire at a moment’s notice as soon as he’d say the words ‘Hello’. But nothing comes out aside from a choked ‘Um’, as you finally realize you’re stuck in this awfully cramped office with a jumble of confusing emotions stirring inside you, anxiously standing mere meters away from the man who is currently the bane of your existence.

And you can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same about you.

Maybe you would have been able to figure out that answer years ago, when seeing the link between his mind and soul was as innate as Gojo activating his infinity or Shoko healing her patients.

But all you see now is a brick wall, a mental block you’re still uncertain if it was placed by yourself or by his subconscious.

To guard himself from you.

“How are you?” While somehow still adopting that monotonous tone, it’s said so softly that you almost fail to hear it over your quivering heart furiously thumping against your chest.

“How am I? Seriously?” If only you can mask how you’re feeling as easily as he is. Perhaps if you wear those green-tinted sunglasses he currently has on, maybe he wouldn’t be able to see the slight twitch in your eye, the tears that threaten to prick at the corners.

He pauses at your eerily calm–but equally charged–reaction, considering how he should proceed. When he tentatively takes a step forward the same time you take a step back, he opts for another path. “I know those sessions can be taxing on you. It was suggested we check in on you even if you didn’t come to the office.”

So it wasn’t his idea.

“Right, just like how you let me check-in on you after that patchface curse hurt you? Oh wait”–you hold a finger up, mouth open as if dramatically recalling a memory–“ah, right, never mind, that was Shoko, because for some reason your first thought after almost dying was to not tell me and avoid me for a whole month after.”

His jaw clenches. “I was not almost dead–”

“–Only because of me.” Palms hurting from how deep your nails are digging into them, you switch to crossing your arms as you glare at him. “Or did you forget about the gift that saved your very life?”

He blinks, his straight-lined mouth souring. It almost looks like he’s about to retort before he sharply turns away from you and picks up his blazer, a brusque action that makes you huff indignantly.

Is he actually going to leave? Right now?

But he grabs something from the inside pocket of the wrinkled jacket, displaying on his palm the tiny object that immediately makes you silent.

The crocheted mini cow is nearly unrecognizable in his large hand, dried red spots that you dreadfully know came from the blonde fully covering the once pristine white and black yarn. The legs have unraveled and there’s no longer a tail. The poor condition would make you sad if it were presented in any other context.

Still, you can only find yourself oddly touched as the warmth that begins to spread from your chest slowly causes your frown to melt away, surprised to see that he’s still kept it after all these years, and even after its one-time function has been clearly used.

“It may look otherwise, but I did take care of your gift. And it cared for me right back.” His studies you carefully, eyes boring into yours until you can no longer see them as he bows from the waist. “I do apologize for not letting you know sooner. Gojo-san had informed me that you were on a business trip, and knowing how you tend to overreact, I thought the best course of action was to wait until you returned. Frankly, I heavily considered not telling you anything until you had asked.”

You’re not sure what exactly in that whiplash of opposing statements causes you to wince–the bowing and apology; him supposedly caring more for an object than he currently pays attention to your feelings; the passing comment about implicitly calling your valid worrying an exaggeration (even after all these years, he doesn’t mince his words); or the realization that the primary way you now keep in contact with one another is through your senpai.

And the more crushing fact that had it not been for either Shoko–or dare you admit it, Gojo–you likely would have been kept entirely out of the loop.

The comforting warmth that originally flooded through your veins is immediately frozen over, being doused with the growing, cold reality of the situation between you two.

When were you reduced to just a mere acquaintance? Picturing the distance that comes with that title–the increasing gap you can already see, feel, between the two of you as he straightens his back and puts on his jacket–is enough to make your eyes sting and throat scratchy.

With the sadness creeping back into your heart, you can’t refrain from saying, “Well, message received loud and clear. So let me give you a parting gift. On behalf of me, and a tiny bit from Yaga.”

Taking out the small-sized item from the pocket of your pants, you muster the courage to grab his limp hand to place it there. After a light squeeze and pretending that you didn’t just commit the feeling of his calloused hands to memory, you withdraw from his hold, refusing to look at him while your gaze remains on the new crocheted cow; it adorns a tiny smile, its bright yellow body surrounded by black speckles.

“Goodbye, Kento.”

The whisper is barely audible as you leave the room and let your heavy feet aimlessly guide you, outside into the sweltering heat before seeking solace under the dense foliage covering Mt. Mushiro. Spending every subsequent second loathing how the sound of his name already sounded foreign the last moment it came out of your tongue.

Hating how he doesn’t follow you.

You can only hope your fond memories of him will not fade as quickly as his love for you did.

Yet with the past seeming more distant and strange than you like, a deep panic starts to set in. One where you begin to doubt everything–every thought, every touch, every intuition, every instinct, every emotion you’ve ever felt for Nanami Kento and every feeling, piece of affection, and look he had sent back your way.

Was everything just a figment of your imagination?

Did he ever even love you?

That question is what knocks you off balance, suddenly short of breath as you find yourself on your knees, fingers helplessly digging into the soil.

You’re not sure how long you stay there like that, your throbbing head uncertain of whether you’re currently hallucinating or that much time has passed when someone kneels in front of you. A large hand firmly grabs your chin as familiar blue eyes peer at you.

It’s hard to hide your disappointment.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Coupled with the fact that he doesn’t have his blindfold or even his sunglasses on, Gojo’s serious tone is so unsettling to hear that you laugh, albeit humorlessly.

And when he says your name and presses for answers with what you might even call concern on his face, you propose something else.

“Satoru?”

“…”

His brows furrow slightly, hoping to look neutral despite knowing that whenever you call him that, bad news quickly follows.

“Remember how I told you that we’d never marry? To fuck whatever the elders wanted, because the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was Nanami Kento?”

“Where are you going with this?” He lets out an uncharacteristically nervous chuckle, which only makes your mirthless smile widen even more.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to tell my family and your clan elders that I’m marrying you.”

It’s a shame you can’t remember or even see his reaction, feeling yourself embrace the incessantly beckoning darkness.

cw. ma chérie - female term of endearment / mon chéri - male term of endearment (^o^) + NECK KISSING !!!!! <333

lyney, who falls for a shy!reader, and loves how you react to anything he does. he holds your hand and you’re sweating buckets, he plants a kiss on the back of your hand and your cheeks are hotter than a boiling kettle. but most of all, when he wants to kiss you, you try to pull away—not because you don’t want it, no, but because of how intimate the form of affection is.

“i just can’t handle it!” he remembers you squealing under him when he was play-fighting with you.

your hands are planted on his shoulders to keep him from getting any closer, but the smile on your face is so inviting and the way you’re struggling beneath him makes him grin a little too hard…

“but ma chérie/mon chéri, what if i can’t handle not being able to kiss you?” he complains dramatically, and with nimble fingers does he easily slip your wrist off his shoulders so he can invade your personal bubble (as if he’s not already in it).

something between a whimper and a gasp leaves your lips and lyney’s almost had it with the way he’s holding himself back. he manages to lower his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder while his thumb from the hand that slipped your wrist off a second ago lightly drags from your palm down to your arm.

the invisible line he draws distracts you from the heat that radiates from the shoulder he’s buried his face in, smothering your pretty skin with his delicate kisses. it’s almost like his kisses have calmed you down too—brought you down from your frenzied panic and now you’re more relaxed.

he plants his kisses while listening to how your breathing steadies, soft exhales leaving your lips along with a brief hum of satisfaction. he’s so warm. so close to you. the way your body melts under him makes you feel a little embarrassed by how quick you were to go back on your words.

your eyes flutter shut and somehow you’re tilting your head the opposite direction so he can have more access to your skin. the lips that decorate your skin in meaningful pecks of heat curl at your reaction.

lyney mumbles, pausing his kisses for a moment while his fingers tangle themselves in your hair. “you bloom just like a flower when the summer comes.”

STARRY EYES LIGHTING UP MY DARKEST NIGHTS FT. LYNEY

wherein lyney falls for you literally and figuratively, and he doesn't mind it quite a bit. or just bits of pieces of him trying being a romantic.

content: fluff, strangers to lovers typa, reader is not the traveller, flirty lyney, he's ooc sowsaury everyone, lynette is tired with the two of you. minimal proofread.

notes: hihi this is for @sixosix da only real one this is for u!! *does that corny pointing in movies* dribble dribble shoots! i just rlly need to write for him, bc he's a silly.

lyney was never star-struck, if anything he was more used to people being enchanted when they saw him.

but he would never expect it to happen to him, after all only the most beautiful things can capture the eyes of a magician—with life full of unexpected encounters and lively colors of shows—to all of which he found on you.

you, who came to the lands of justice from the lands of freedom—never being tied down to the shackles of laws—with an ecstatic gaze, you're here as where the winds have brought you. truly he thinks the momentary sight of you just by walking in the streets of fontaine didn't give enough justice for him to memorize your face. the sunlight that just makes you shine more and the way your eyes reminds him of the stars, warm they were.

and your smile. archons, he adores it. the way it just never leaves your face, you're so pretty.

he never knew anything about love, only with the books he grew up with of a fairytale he reads to his siblings at night—a hopeless romantic he was.

love at first sight. he was falling, hard and fast. like he was tumbling down into the bottomless chasm of just you. he's liking it and it should take him aback, it should scare him, but he can't find himself to do so.

it was unbelievable and it was magical to be able to know a feeling that you can know so much, but was foreign altogether. he knew right then, he was star-struck with you.

and he doesn't know what compels him to move and make his way to you. excitement dancing around his nerves as he nears you, with a smile on his face and a newfound fascination.

and just before he reaches, an unexistent rock trips him all the way to you.

it's embarrassing, lynette thinks. watching his brother fall in love, that is—literally and figuratively.

he flashes a smile at you. and you crouch down, asking him if he's okay. you're worried and he tries not to grin so much, he only replies to you with,

"i'm fine, now that you're here." he winks.

he took it as a chance to take out a rainbow rose out from his sleeves handing out to you. and you laughed, probably another thing that he finds enchanting—it's unfair, for you to have him this entrance by you.

what a memorable first meeting he had with you.

lynette cringes—her brother's antics are an embarrassment to die for. it's not a crime as far as the laws said so, but she sure hopes it is.

because now, his brother is here head in the clouds with the thought of you. his face all, but with lovey-dovey eyes.

"isn't y/n so pretty?" he sighed dreamily.

lynette looks at him with a blank stare, "you've said that for the thirteenth time today. yes, y/n is pretty."

"should i prepare a magic trick? maybe a dove or a bunny. it can be onstage, or just in the seats? ah, i have so many things to prepare..." and so many more, if she was a stranger, she would've thought her own brother is outrageous for the ideas that come to his mind just to woo you. "come now, dear sister for i have to prepare for my special guest."

it's a feeble attempt, really.

his own brother faltering down, just from you standing in front of him and anyone might not see it, but she knows his own brother.

lovestruck he was. when he took you to him showing his trick of lighting up the night in a single snap, a flower on your head magically placed delicately and he thinks you're just pretty.

"do you like it?"

another rainbow rose.

"they're pretty.."

your mesmerization, it takes his breath away. if anything he wants you to look at him, how you look at everything you love. he wants you to love him too, like how the stars never leave the skies and how the sun reflects its light on the sea.

he wants you just like how his hands die in need to reach you, how can you be so cruel to him this way?

and he breathes out, "i know."

"do you like dancing?"

the both of you stand on the stage, where you sit in one of the carts that has all their props now kept for their next show.

"back in mondstadt, we had a festival that we celebrated...and we would dance at night till the flowers fall." you recount, fondness creeps up on you with the memory.

he knows this, windblume—if he's not mistaken, he shouldn't be. after all what are those books he read for night after night just to know the culture of mondstadt? just to know you. you didn't need to catch wind of that, he can only hope charlotte wouldn't slip up with this one on you.

he imagines, you dancing with a smile on your face that he loves so much. and he wants to see it, to be able to live that vision in his head, but having you in his arms instead.

"would you dance with me then?" he offers his hand, making a little bow to you.

and you giggle, yet again at his antics. "i would love to."

"may i?" and you take his hand, he feels warm, giddy from how your hand fits together with his.

with a smile he holds you and leads you to dance to a sound the two of you can only hear and maybe it's the heartbeats that plays in your mind, but lyney thinks everything just seems more beautiful now with you here.

he's used to everyone's eyes on him as a magician, it's a normal thing. but to have you this close to him and your eyes on him, he thinks the spotlight doesn't make him special now, just the way you do.

if this was the fairytale he's known all his life, he hopes now that it will always be like those ever afters. don't wake him up and drop the glass of his heart, because he has so many more dreams he'd like to come to life with you.

he's memorizing the story now, how your eyes shine and warms him wholly, your hair dancing around as he sways you and your lips that holds a sound that he would like to hear every day.

the song ends and your hearts sync. he let's go and step back to kiss your hand, delicately with him keeping eye contact and it means so much more.

and he pulls out yet another rainbow rose out of his coat, and his eyes glazed. "it's windblume this season in mondstadt, isn't it?"

passion and romantic encounters.

"...let this rose be my oath to you."

oh, how the magician can be much of a romantic all for you. he hopes he'll be the first and the last one to give you such a gift.

◞♡ likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! here's a lyney fic bc i have beef with him <3

I've always really loved how Geto's trauma has been portrayed. His weight loss is a small detail that I love even though it's sad and besides that his messy, unruly hair (even in scenes where he had his hair tied in a bun it still looked unkempt) and the way he didn't even wear his uniform properly anymore... :( These little details make his story so sad; he didn't have the motivation anymore to do even the simplest of things. This is something that is very important to show when you're portraying depression and trauma in media and Gege (and Mappa) did it perfectly.

For anime onlys this episode was really important. All they know about Geto is from the movie where he was an antagonist and it's important for them to know what exactly happened that made Geto become like that.

Geto was empathetic, kind, caring, and loving. But he's the one who suffered the most from being a jujutsu sorcerer. First of all, his cursed technique is the hardest both mentally and physically. It's literally described as “the taste of a cursed spirit no one knows... Like swallowing whole a cloth that was used to wipe up vomit”. Consuming people's negative emotions daily? It's understandable why Geto felt so shitty after doing it.

But after seeing people cheering at Riko's death, seeing his friends die protecting non-sorcerers, seeing a whole village of more than a hundred residents call on for the death of two little girls, it's very understandable why Geto just snapped. He undertook so much burden and pain, so much suffering and hardship, and all it resulted in was humans mistreating sorcerer's in such a horrible way.

That's when this quote comes: “it's just that in a world like this, I couldn't laugh from the bottom of my heart”. He couldn't live in a world where he and other jujutsu sorcerers were treated in such a way. And that's how he started away from his ideals.

I really hope I don't have to see anime onlys blindly hate on him anymore now that his full story and trauma is in front of them.

Geto Suguru I love and appreciate you so much :(

Title: A Fair Wager

Librarian reader in the Prince!Al Haitham AU!! In second place with a 23.1% vote!

Noble | Head Advisor | Civilain | Royalty | Librarian | Witch (canon)

Wc: 1.4K Warnings: None

You both stare at one another, stockstill, waiting for the other to make a move. This is a song and dance you both know well at this point. 

You open your mouth to speak, and his eyes narrow down into a glare.

"No." You get ready to talk really loud, and he sits up, face set definitely in a scowl.

"Don't you dare." Your mouth twitches as you hold back your grin, and he scowls further.

"That's an order from your prince, don't you dare."

"Then why do you keep hiding where I can find you, Your Highness?" You whisper.

"You must have a sort of homing instinct, built in with your witch abilities.  You always find me." Al Haitham sighs, and shuts his book, getting ready to stand.

"You can stay, Your Highness. I won't tell on you."

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow.

"So generous of you."

"I'm in a good mood today. Someone sent a bouquet of black irises to my room." And you have an idea who it was. But he takes no pains to acknowledge your knowing look.

"Odd choice for a bouquet."

"Yes! How odd. Odder yet that I was bemoaning the fact I had no black irises for my new spell, and a bouquet was sent to me with such swiftness. I wonder who it was."

"I wonder." Silence fills the air between you two, but you don't draw back, your smile or your closeness.

Al haitham looks at you, the path behind you. And back to you again. You look back.

"I'm going to go find a new spot."

"Alright."

"May you move?"

"Of course." You step aside, and his eyes fill with suspicion. This is only confirmed when he starts to walk past, and you grab his shoulder.

"Ah. Of course. For a price."

"You know it."

He sighs, exasperated. "Weren't the flowers good enough?" You laugh, and turn him back towards you, and he lets you. 

"What is it? Want me to sneak you another one of the patisserie's newest creations? A first edition book? New ingredients for some spells?"

"Hm, no. I want something different." You grin, and he sighs again.

"You're exploiting me, Librarian."

"You let me, Your Highness." You definitely recall hearing about some meeting about foreign relations, and about a very important prince being absent, so of course you went to go look for him. And of course, you found him.

"What number is this? The third time this month that you've skipped a meeting, Your Highness?"

"The second."

"Third, Your Highness. It doesnt matter if I forced you to go back, you still tried to skip."

"What do you want?" He cuts through, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, don't be so irked, Your Highness! You know we both enjoy these little encounters." You reach to pat his head like a child, and he swats your hand away with little effort.

"Of course, you're the only one to not try to fawn over me."

You nod. "Or use you."

"That's a blatant lie. You manipulate me, exploit me, blackmail, patronize, irritate–"

"You wound me, Your Highness!" You turn your face away as if spurned. "I think I will go now, I believe His Majesty would like to know where you've been."

You take teo steps before he grabs your shoulder. You have to purse your lips to keep from smiling.

"I don't need another one of my hiding spots compromised. I asked you what you wanted. Tell me. I'll get it for you."

"What if I said I wanted a date?" You tease. But you see his eyes narrow, and something click into place. Realization dawns on you.

You raise your hands in placation. 

"Im sorry!! That's not what I meant!! That's not what I meant!!"

His eyes narrow, and it doesn't look like he believes you. You understand how much his 'curse' has affected his life. Every relationship could be fake, forged. You just gave him cause to deny yours over a jest. It was a tasteless joke.

"Funny, that's how it sounds." You sigh, and turn back to your cart. You still have a job to do, books to put away.

"Im sorry, that was tactless. That's just what we'll call it. You need an excuse to skip these meetings, and I need a test subject for my spells."

"And risk being turned into a frog? No." He starts to walk away.

"These are safe! I promise!" Apparently not caring if anyone sees him anymore, he swipes a book from the shelves and starts speed walking. You grab your cart and pursue him.

"These are completely safe, I swear by it!"

"Then why would you need me to test out spells that have definitive, set results? Seems redundant."

"Because there is something different about you," You grab his bicep and finally he turns, lending you his ear. 

"You assume that you are under some spell or curse, because of the extreme adoration of your admirers, and I can't even detect anything from you. That's why we have to run these tests– What about you is different? How do you compare to all the test studies done before?"

"..." He reaches up and adjusts one of his earphones, thinking it over. 

"And how exactly does this benefit you?"

"Experiments!!" Your eyes light up in excitement, and he finally turns towards you.

"Oh yes, I know how much you love your pet projects."

You face sours. "Don't call it that. I am eager but not dense Your Highness, I understand the importance of all of this. And I would like your cooperation on this."

"I'm trying to help you, my prince." He sighs, and his hands have moved to the wire of his ear phones.

"...You're going to need more than just me to run these tests. Subjects to test if the spells really work as intended. Regular folks, those under curses, those inflicted with spells similar to my own circumstance."

"I know, my prince, I know. I have almost everything ready, you're the missing piece. I just need you." You give your best sparkling eyes. And wait for his answer with bated breath. He has to accept, he has to.

"Hm." He stops fiddling with his wire, and there is a look of mirth in his dual colored eyes.

"You sound more and more like the lovelorn fools all vying for me." A breath of silence while you marvel at his aloofness, and then…

"Stop playing with me! You know that isn't what I mean!!" You try to smack him, but he grabs your wrists and holds them high in one hand, with irritating ease. You struggle while he moves close to you.

"So you say, so you say. How long did it take you to come up with this elaborate plan to get some alone time with me?"

"That's not it, your highness!!"

"I don't believe you." It's frustrating how easy he holds you up, and yeah, he's handsome, okay? And strong, but it's not that!

"You're a sly little thing."

"No!!! Stop teasing me Your Highness, I'm serious!"

"This is the library. Can you have some respect and be…" apparently you two were too loud, that another librarian has to come to tell you to quiet down.

It's a coworker of yours, and you shyly wave your trapped hands with an awkward smile. She looks over the position you two are in (you see jealousy flash across her face) before she bows and splutters her apologies. She leaves, and you know gossip will spread.

"...So. Is it a yes, or a no?" You say stiffly, trying to hold on to the shreds of your dignity. He drops your hands unceremoniously, you are holding them limp and they almost smack to your sides before you catch yourself. You scowl at him.

"Not much of a choice if I want this spell broken, yes? I agree. But–" he cuts in when your face brightens.

"I'll need something else in recompense. You seem to enjoy this far more than I shall."

"Well, what do you want then, Your Highness?" Bartering with the prince is dangerous. You've heard all about his skillful manipulations. Always leaving with more than you expected to give. He's inspecting you like you're a ware in a merchant's stall.

"Your Highness?"

"I want you to stop calling me by my title. My Prince is fine. But i prefer my own name." What? His name? That's it? Well, it's a drastic overreach of your position, but no special potions or favors?

The prince—Al Haitham, has an expectant look on his face and you're shocked out of your thoughts. You test the words on your tongue.

"...Al Haitham. Al Haitham. My prince." He has no response, but you see his thoughts working behind the shock of his eyes. He turns and steps back from you.

"We can start the next council meeting I skip. Don't use my title any longer, (f/n), dearest. We're supposed to be lovers after all." And he was away.

And your heart is pounding.

Are you sure his 'spell' doesn't work on you? It certainly feels like it has!

Taglist: @tigerpriestess @hypernovaxx @certaindreampost @tanspostsblog @escapeis

Title: In The Alleyways

Civilian reader is next! With a vote of 12.7%, civilian reader came in fourth place.

Noble | Head Advisor | Civilian | Royalty | Librarian | Witch (canon)

Wc: 2.1K Warnings: None

Festivals are always such a busy time, even for the random people in the cities and villages, who aren't even helping with setting up stalls or decorations or any other preparations.

There is excitement and joy, but also anticipation, because everyone knows that this is where an attack is most likely to come from. But you heard the crown prince would be in the parade, and he was blessed with a dendro vision, so you're sure things will be fine.

Well, you were sure.

Maybe it was because the crown prince was attending the parade that things have gotten out of hand.

Oh dearest stars above, there are people swooning and fainting in the crowd, and crazy folks who try to push past the guards and rush towards the carriage which holds the Prince. You can't really see from your position, but the cries and proclamations of love get louder the closer it gets. You're not sure if it was exactly worth it coming here.

You wanted to see the prince, and if his rumors of his extreme handsome-ness were true. The tri-colored blaze of his eyes sound like the things from legends, and everyone wants a taste of the supernatural, the extreme. Well, you work with the supernatural near often enough, you just want to see it in a different proximity.

But the ridiculousness ramps up when the carriage finally approaches. It's like when Barbara and Xinyan had a joint performance, the crowd was in a frenzy, trying to rush to the stars of it all.

He is handsome. Very much so. His face and body seem chiseled from some fine marble, and his eyes really are intense. His hair is a dove gray in the sunlight, and the dendro vision he bears is a swirling emerald. His face is stoic, and he stares ahead, as if unbeknownst to the cries of his name and pleas for a glance.

What is up with these people?

It's at that moment that a women next to you practically rips off her corset, and with impressive aim, throws it straight towards the prince.

What the fuck.

And he catches it, on reflex you suppose, because he stares at the piece of cloth in his hand like he never seen anything like it before. Everyone seems stockstill, before the prince raises his hand to slow the procession, and jumps out of the carriage.

The crowd screams as he approaches, and rushes forward as Prince Al Haitham speaks to the guards, gesturing to where the girl, who ran forward with a scream of delight, lost in the masses now, was when she threw it. And yeah, you aren't dealing with this.

It's not hard to push past the crowd, you're going in the opposite direction after all, and a little spritz of a potion has people quick to look past your face, frantic to see the prince instead. But you turn back to look at the craziness before you depart, and suddenly, the prince's eyes meet yours.

Oh, what the fuck.

You run.

And okay, that was a bad idea. 

Because now you're being chased by the guards, as if you were the crazy lady who ripped and threw her clothing.

Most people were attending the parade or perusing the shops and stalls, so the alleys are only full of trash and vermin, alley cats and dogs.

You can hear the guards, and you try to slow down your heartbeat, catch your breath. You have a spell. Spells. You'll be fine. You're too elevated. You must get to a lower level. You take a couple of darkened stairs, down, down down.

Unless your spell didnt actually work, because didnt the prince see you? Like, he immediately found you in that giant crowd, and perhaps he sent the guards your way. and you spell didnt really work and and–

Okay. Okay, breathe. You're fine. You're a capable and amazing witch and the prince didn't see you, that was fluke. The guards won't find you and you won't get in trouble, you just need to breathe and relax. And focus on creating some distance. You begin walking again, a hand to your chest.

The potion works well enough, and as long as you keep up your hood, you can get to the inn you've been staying at and relax. You'll wait till the parade is over and then you can enjoy the stalls and such, in fact, there was a stall you wanted to check out by the city center–

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump to high Celestia.

You open your mouth to tell but an arm arcs over your head, and the inside of the elbow is pressed against your mouth to keep you quiet. You try to bite but the person was wearing some sort of armor thing underneath the cloak. You're stuck in a headlock.

How did they catch up to me so fast?? You think, you thought you had enough ground between you and the guards.

You drop, limp, amd the person struggles to keep you upright. When you drop you grab their pant leg and pull.

They fall, stumble really, which was your plan, and as soon as you're free you start booking it. You see them catch and right themselves as you turn a corner, and you curse under your breath.

Not a minute later you hear footsteps behind you, and you curse again and run faster. You fly by back workers refilling stocks or bringing things in, children delivering packages, even the occasional pair of lovers embracing. You're just trying to outrun this man.

Unfortunately, you run into a dead end. Literally.

Okay, it's not your fault that in your adrenaline induced panic, you mistook the painting of an open shop door to be an actual door. The alley way was short and dark, and you were desperate and fuck that hurted.

Mother, do I make you proud?

You're holding your face, thankfully unbroken, when you feel a shadow fall over you. Your panic returns, making you still and liable to bite, when you open your eyes.

"..." Crown Prince Al Haitham stands above you, with a cloak of his own. He looks at you, and you look at him.

Wordlessly, he hands you an object, and you see it's the corset that was thrown at him. He urges you to take it. And you do. Awkwardly.

"Here. Why did you throw this? You would have gone without it?"

"…" You must be dreaming.

"Did you rattle your brains running into that wall? Why did you run for so long?"

"...Why did you chase me?" He returns to full height, but still stares down at you. 

"To return your clothing."

"You chased me like a madman, for that? You put me in a headlock for that?!"

He shrugs, unbothered. "There's a local myth that if a person throws their clothing at you unsuspectingly and you catch it, it's a metaphor for returning their feelings, unless you return it. I thought most of you wouldn't be so bold, but alas." You marvel at his audacity and roll onto your stomach, not wanting to get up yet. The ground was hard but cool.

"You don't seem like the type to believe in such a silly thing." 

"I'm not. But I've started to believe in curses and tempting fate. So I must take heed." Something changes in his face. 

"Your nose is bleeding." 

You check and oh! You are. You press the fabric of the corset to your nose to stop the blood flow and damn, your nose hurts. You wince but let up.

Crown Prince Al Haitham crouches on his haunches, as if to inspect you better.

"Your nose might be broken."

"It's fine."

"Let me see."

"What? No." But he doesn't wait for your permission, and moves your hand with the cloth away, and starts pressing around your nose and the bridge. You hiss and grit your teeth, but he has one hand on your face and the other under your jaw keeping you in place.

After a few very painful moments, he backs up.

"Not broken,  but you'll bruise. Very badly. It would be best to ice it. And to not use your corset to staunch a nosebleed."

"It's not mine."

"It's not your corset and you still threw it at me?" You sigh in annoyance.

"...I didn't throw this at you, Your Highness."

He rolls his eyes, and stands up. Now you're tired of being on the floor, and get up too, less gracefully.

"Do not lie. Why else would you meet my eyes and then run during the commotion? I admit, that was a bold move. It got me to follow you."

"Your Highness."

"None of my admirers have thrown their clothing at me, and to do so in public–"

"You're mistaken!" You cut him off, irked.

"You must be pretty arrogant to think that everyone is in love with you, Your Highness. I am not one of them. And look," you open your cloak to show that you are, in fact, still wearing your all your clothing.

"If you came here hoping to score with some doe eyed fool you're mistaken, Your Highness. And frankly impudent."

"Impudent. So you're at least well read." Before you could reply to the backhanded compliment he moves on.

"Hm. You're very bold. And presumptuous. That's not what I chased you down for." The Prince looks down at your outfit, hand to his chin.

"I was merely curious. I suppose you ran, because you wished to avoid the commotion?"

"Yes. And because you came up to me and put me in a headlock."

"That doesn't explain how you were able to evade my guards," he breezes past. "And how I was the only one to reach you."

"I don't know!" You raise your hands and smack them to your sides.

"No, I think you do."

"You're the only one who saw through my spell. I don't know how."

At this, he perks up, and steps into your space.

"A spell? So you're a wizard," he looks at your outfit (again. You dont think you mistake that derogatory look).

"Self taught, perhaps? Show me this spell."

You scowl. 

"Wizards are more the scholarly type, and like to stick to the rules, and their courts and towers. I am a witch, we garden and grow and hunt our ingredients and make our spells and focus on the body and the like. There is a difference." 

Again he shrugs. "Alright witch, show me."

"And If I don't want to?"

"Then I'll have my guards detain you and hold you for questioning." Really? You want to ask if he is that petty, but one look at his face and you know he is serious.

You sigh and pull out a bottle from your satchel, the liquid inside is a pretty purple, and he takes it from your hands gingerly. You let him, but not without a face.

"It doesn't make you invisible, but unnoticeable. That's how I was able to get away. Somehow you broke through it."

"... I saw a blue vial  in your satchel, just now. What was that one?"

"Healing." Speaking of which, your face is really starting to hurt now.

"I'll use it for my face, but first I have to let the wound set."

"Did you make these yourself? How much do you want for the stealth vial?"

"...Yes, and no, it's not for sale. At least, not for money."

"Alright, what do you want in exchange?"

You probably should ask for coin, but you're curious sooo "....Why did you really follow me? And why do you want it? And why did you put me in a headlock?! Answer me those questions."

To his credit, he doesn't hesitate. "I was curious because I thought you had thrown the article of clothing. You didn't seem as obsessed as the other folk were, and that piqued my interest.

It gets tiring, being fanned and adored and swooned over day in and out." He sighs hard, and he looks annoyed now, his brow tugged down and his lips are pursed. He meets your gaze.

"I had suspiciouns when you met my eyes in the crowd and ran. With the fact that my guards could not catch you, I assumed it was a type of signal. Perhaps it was. Eith your.pption, itt would be beneficial to go unnoticed for a few hours."

"Beneficial for…?"

"My health." Despite your previous attitude, you snort.

"I guess you're lucky your hair is gray, otherwise the stress would show."

"It's genetic."

"I know." You sigh, and ponder for a minute. You have been struggling for work, and you've been wanting to gain some recognition. Your skills are decent, but maybe that's all you need in this situation maybe you could make him a customer.

"Fine. A spritz lasts a half hour, and I have enough for the rest of the day. Take it." You gesture to the prince, since he already had it in his hands, and he nods. He looks all around out for a moment, before pointing the nozzle and sprays you.

"Hey!" He stares at you for a moment, as if watching whether you'll grow horns or not, before spraying himself. 

As if on cue, a pair of guards barrels into the alleyway you two are at. They stop to stare at you, you both are caught off guard so your faces are in full view, before they shake their heads and run off.

"Hm. How convenient, it does work. Lovely. Now, where to?"

"Where to?"

"Yes. Memorizing maps and infracture doesn't help for when you're actually in a place you've never been before, so I need an aide. And I need to question you on what other potions you can make. I have a feeling I might need your services in the future." He gestures ahead, for you to move forward.

"After you."

Taglist: @tigerpriestess @hypernovaxx @certaindreampost @tanspostsblog @escapeis

Title: Deserving

This is just a repost from the Prince!Al Haitham drabble i did! Enjoy nonetheless.

Wc: 1.6k

"You don't deserve him."

You don't look up from the book you're reading, and this seems to incite the girl more.

"I said, you don't deserve him."

"I heard you the first time, Your Highness."

But she just stamps her foot, and follows you as you meander the halls, soaking in the sunlight from the windows.

"No one really knows you, huh? That you're the face behind His Highness's curse."

"I'm not very well known, no. I'm rather seclusive."

"You're a selfish, sad little excuse of a being that you have to curse a man to love you."

You heard this so many times already you are sick. You will not entertain this. "Do you have somewhere to be, Your Highness? Isn't your mother meeting His Highness for diplomatic affairs? Should you not be present?" From the way her face flushes you know you've hit a mark.

"Let me guess. Her Majesty arrived to propose a marriage alliance between you and His Highness, and he refused?"

"Yes. He refused, and I was sent away like a common wench, but I love him, so I'll free him from your clutches. I would be damned if I let some pathetic witch get in the way of my happiness."

"Your happiness, huh," You mutter under your breath, shutting your book close and facing the princess.

"What do you know about His Highness?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you know his favorite beverage? Book? Resting spot? Do you know he keeps one too many books on our bedside table? We had to get a larger one because the previous was too small. He will sleep with those damn headphones on but do not try to take them off--he's a very light sleeper."

"What does this have to do with–"

"He acts like he is immensely annoyed with Prince Kaveh, when they are actually quite close. His face is often stoic but his right eye twitches just slightly when he's upset.

"Also, it was not His Highness that refused to have you attend today's meeting, but Her Majesty, your mother in fact."

"What?" She spluttered, undignified. "Why would my mother–"

"The prince is highly sought after," you cut her off. "I wouldn't be surprised if she sent you away to take her own chances. It's happened before."

"You lie!" Her voice bounces off the walls, high and shrill.

"A snake is what you are, trying to pit me against my mother. Are you not satisfied with trapping His Highness?! Having caused so many broken hearts all around?!" Her face twists, and she points a finger at you. You smile in faint amusement.

"I will have you locked in the dungeons and flogged, until you reveal what nefarious plan you were trying to enact! This kingdom wont fall to your evil!"

A hand lands on your shoulder, and the princesses face blanches, while you try to keep yours from grinning.

"I heard you from down the corridor. You were so absorbed you didn't notice me approaching."

"Apologies, husband," and you place your hand over his, flashing the ring at the girl, just to watch her face pale further.

"We were preoccupied."

"Oh? With?" You roll your eyes.

"The usual. How I'm a despicable witch who wants to bring down the kingdom. That I stole your heart and keep you for my own selfish desires."

"Well, the last part is true."

"Aha! Ha! See?" The princess points, and her face is victorious. She flips her hair over her shoulder, hand on her hip. How ridiculous.

"He knows. Even your tricks can't keep him chained to you forever wench."

"Is that right? And here I thought he was still held captive to my charms."

"No!" She huffs. "Your Highness, you must have been enchanted, and have now fallen in love with me, to break the curse." She smiles wide, eager.

"I'm so glad! I knew my love was strong enough to free you!"

"Are you delusional?" You can't help but snort at how fast her face falls.

"...Pardon?"

Al Haitham sighs, brows pinched.

"No, rhetorical questions are rude, you are delusional."

"I beg your pardon?!"

"You do not have it." Al Haitham's blunt tongue is at work, and you've forgotten how ruthless he could be. He holds you by the hip, and brings you closer to his side.

"I've received dozens of marriage proposals throughout the years, despite my already being married. I would be dumbfounded at the audacity, but I'm further appalled by these childish, baseless rumors." The princess steps back one step, and Al Haitham presses you both forward one.

"A witch, a snake, a miserable wench; none of you have any respect for my spouse, Their Highness, the future monarch." He looks down at the girl, and the ice there would suit cryo more than dendro.

"Compared to you, my spouse is far superior. They rule my heart and soul and will lead this kingdom beside me. You, on the other hand, will one day be bargained off to some monarch to bear them heirs. I'd rather say you are the sad pathetic being." Oh wow. How romantic. For a man of logic he knows just the words to get your heart to flutter. Something has him agitated.

"They….they have you brainwashed, Your Highness. They will bring ruin to this kingdom!"

"On the contrary, many of the reforms they proposed have boosted the economy and helped enlarge the middle class, slowly dwindling the lower classes by integration. Worry about your own kingdom, Your Highness, for it will surely face its own obstacles."

"What…what do you mean?"

"Your mother made a fool, and nuisance, of herself. She seems to be just as brainwashed as you are, and tried to impose herself on me. As such I refuse to entertain your company or any more 'diplomatic talk'. Your carriages should be packed and ready by now. You may go." The princess has her hands half raised, and she trembles where she stands.

"...But, Your Highness…Our trade, ships have been lost to sea or attacked by pirates. The navy we sent never returned. We need aid!"

"Oh, you should have thought of that before you disrespected Their Highness. Before you threatened to have my spouse locked up and flogged. Before you were so delusional to believe I'd fall in love with a princess so selfish, immature and incompetent. Now leave, I do not want to look at you any more."

The girl's face is red and tears are starting to run down her cheeks. You have a smidgen of pity, and you bump your hip to his side, shooting him a look.

He looks, and he sighs. You see the tiny muscles under his eye twitching, and you smile fondly.

"Safe travels Your Highness, and good day. I hope you garner some insight, otherwise, never show your face here again, thank you." Not much better. A sob tumbles past the girl's lips, and she shoots you a baleful glare before running off, skirts gathered. You both watch her leave.

"....Something has you worked up, my prince."

He leans down to your height, and those eyes of his always make your heart stir, like now, solely directed to you.

"These rumors and proposals have gone on too far. I will not entertain them anymore."

"Oh yeah?"

"The queen sprayed some fragrance on me when we were left alone, which I assume was some sort of spell, because she immediately began to undress and try to throw herself on me, as if I'd reciprocate."

"Oh my! They're getting bold now." You reach up to cradle his head, and bring him down to sniff at his neck. Sure enough, there was a faint sweet scent.

"Luckily I'm already protected by one witch." You feel him breathe against your hair.

"Mediocre work. Hardly a witch's work, or at least, a very inexperienced one. The queen was certainly audacious."

"Desperate. The princess wasn't lying about their trade and ships. They could use our help."

"Will we though?" Al Haitham moves his hand from your hip to the small of your back, bringing you in closer.

"We could impose a higher cut of their trade at a lower price as compensation for our help, and the audacity those two had coming here." You snicker at your husband.

"Yes, two royals, one nearly enchanted and seduced, the other berated and threatened to be flogged."

"I should have taken a finger of hers."

"That's a little too far, Your Highness. Don't worry, I put a spell on her, myself. With luck it will transfer to Her Majesty as well."

"Oh? What kind?"

On cue, two screams of rage filled the air, and you grinned, wide and sharp.

"Nothing life threatening, or two cumbersome. Their rashes should be gone by the time they return to their kingdom. Maybe next time they'll watch their tongues."

Al Haitham grins too, rare and precious, and your heart is stirred into a frenzy.

"What did she try to do to you? Tell me."

"I stopped her before she could try anything."

"Tell me."

Al haitham takes your hand, and puts it over his collar.

"She touched me, here. Down to," He trails it down his chest, the planes of his stomach to his belt. "Here."

"What else?"

"She kissed me here. And here." He taps his neck, two spots, and you press your lips there, long and slow. You move up his jugular, to his chin, and you finally move your mouth over his, suckling softly. You press circles into the dip of his hips, and he groans quietly into your mouth.

He only pulls his face away, the slightest blush, but presses you closer, every soft line of yours pressed against his harsher ones. Harder ones.

He grins, and his hand is so sturdy against your back.

"What do you want to do to me?"

You don't know if you can press closer, but you try. "Everything she tried to do."

does anyone else have thoughts about gojo satoru who wants to buy you sexy lingerie for your birthday present, but doesn’t know what your bra or panty size is.

the man is walking into the lingerie store with his head held up high and his cheeks tainted red. all the women, and their significant others look at him with a confused yet intrigued look. why‘s this extremely handsome man walking into the lingerie store alone?

with long confident strides, this man walks to the set aisle. his blue eyes widen behind the designer sunglasses, and it isn’t the price tags that fluster him—he could care less about the insane price tags—what flusters him is the material and style of the lingerie.

he swallows, hard. he suppresses the shaking of his hand and reaches out for the dark blue lingerie before his also very blue eyes.

"excuse me sir?" a woman appears out of no where, breaking goio‘s impure imagination of you in said lingerie. "is there anything i can help you with?" she asks, cocking a brow.

gojo puts the lingerie down and stammers, licking his lips for a moment before coming to his senses. "i— yeah." he thinks hard and keeps his mind straight. "can i have this for my girl?"

"sure," she nods, taking the lingerie from his hands. "this is our limited edition, by the way. we only have two of these ever made by our famous designer.." gojo could honestly care less about what she is saying. all he‘s thinking of right now is taking the sinful piece and placing it on you as soon as possible.

"yeah." he nods, already looking around for another sexy set.

"the person you‘re with must be really lucky." she chuckles, still doing whatever the fuck she‘s supposed to do and looks at him. "this is one of a kind." she further adds. he nods again. "so i‘ll have to ask.."

"what‘s their size?"

gojo stops.

"what?"

"it‘s limited edition, so there‘s no size other than this. we have to make sure it‘s their size." she looks at him.

gojo halts. his whole body shuts down as he looks at it. he hadn‘t thought that part through. he thought that if he‘d see what looks good, he‘d immediately know it was made for you. but for god sake, now that he’s here, he doesn’t have a single clue.

"i— um—" he stammers, trying to explain it. "it‘s—"

"do you not know it?" she frowns. "i mean it‘s okay. you‘d just have to ask her then come—"

"no! i know it!" he cuts her off quick, pressing his fingers to his temple. "it‘s— it‘s.."

without even realizing it, gojo brings up both his hands to the air and makes an odd shape. the woman watches and eyes him oddly as he continues to further describe the shape.

"what‘re you doing…?"

"i‘m trying to show you." without a single ounce of shame, this man then puts his hands on the bra and feels it.

he‘s trying to figure out your tit size with his hands.

"yeah, that‘s it." he nods, sure of himself. then he grabs the thong. he places it flat on his palm and sees the size before nodding once again and smiling to the woman. "mhm, that‘s the right size."

the woman stares at him, bewildered. her jaw hangs agape, throat dry as she watches gojo move around and look at her. "yeah, that‘s it. it‘s her perfect size."

without even awaiting her response, he proudly takes the set from her and walks away, not even bothering to check the number tag for the size as he goes around and does the same for every piece of lingerie he encounters.

the people look at him, meanwhile he couldn‘t give a damn. he simply walks around, and purchases what he found with pride, leaving the store and the people in there more confused than they ever were in their lives.

and when the man gives it to you during your birthday, somehow, some fucking way, it‘s actually the right fucking size. and when he knows about it, he‘ll smugly tell you the story about how he found out your size and you‘ll just be left embarrassed the next time you‘re walking into that store with him.

alhaitham x mermaid! reader

⤀ warnings: fem! reader, no pronouns mentioned a/n: another thing sitting in drafts that I was actually saving for Mermay ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼 pt 1 ⋙ next

He was out at a cove, a little ways off from port ormos, studying newly discovered runes carved along the sea cavern walls. Your song was supposed to lure him to his watery grave, but….

“These earpieces are soundproof.” You’re caught by surprise when he responds in your language. His pronunciation is a little off, but to be fair, merfolk are an ancient race and haven’t been sighted in a very long time. As such, whatever linguistic knowledge that’s been preserved up until now is… distorted at best.

The two of you strike up a deal: you help him perfect the language of your people, and he’ll introduce you to the wonders of the world above. A fair exchange. You agree to meet at this same cove on nights of the full moon, although the interval between these meetings grow increasingly shorter, so much so that you find yourself visiting this human once a week. He’d always arrive just as the sun sets, skipping a chunk of crystal ore out into the sea, indicating his arrival.

“And what did you bring for me today?”

“These are called zaytum peaches.”

“Ooh they’re sweet! And jucier than bubble berries…”

“I wasn’t aware fruits could grow underwater.”

Alhaitham is a scholar with an eager mind, so when things peak his interest, it’s second nature to want to satiate his curiosities. He asks his questions, but never pushes you to answer. With time, you grow comfortable enough around him to openly divulge your life beneath the waves, and it becomes a wonderful exchange of language and culture.

“Would you like to come underwater?”

“I know you didn't like the harra fruit today, but I thought you'd given up trying to drown me. Soundproof earpieces remember?” he says, tapping said headphones.

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself further up out of the water, until your faces are only mere inches apart. That's not what you meant at all.

"They say a mermaid's kiss will give you the ability to breathe underwater...let me show you my world." Your voice, hypnotizingly low and sultry, immediately send alarms ringing in his head. Your fingers brush against his cheek, your touch feather light as you whisper into his naked ear, "Do you trust me?"

In the time alhaitham had spent with you, he had never forgotten about the dangers of a mermaid's seduction. But at this proximity, with you so close and your voice so enchanting... he feels his head spin, like he's in some sort of trance where it's nigh impossible to deny you anything. As if by instinct, alhaitham subconsciously reaches for the headphones hanging around his neck— his safety net, his life raft.

You pull away, sinking back into the waters. So he doesn't trust you. It's no surprise due to the nature of your very being, and to hope otherwise would be foolish. Still, its difficult to hide the irritation and hurt that laces your words before you bid him an awkward farewell.

Once you disappear into the sea, alhaitham lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands. Next time you meet, if you decide to return at all, he'll remember to teach you about the intricacies of human courtship rituals.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

a/n 2: alhaitham is allergic to rizz ;\ this was supposed to be just a short brainrot but i had so many thoughts about this (and still have more unwritten) anyways i love mermay what a great month to be online, so much pretty art

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

the gojo getou storyline makes me unhinged for so many reasons. it's told totally out of order. you meet getou's corpse first, then watch gojo kill him in the film after getou's gone insane, and then you see their friendship. that friendship that's just two teenagers and all it's fun chaos and conflicting ideals. then. toji happens. and both of them during this period were SO CLOSE to being the only ones who understood each other. so close to being able to see through one another-- "you haven't released your technique yet, have you? you've not slept either, and I bet you're not gonna sleep tonight either-" and "suguru... have you lose weight?" and yet their friendship, the trust between them, "after all, we're the strongest", was splitting at the seams the more what they could individually tolerate changed. gojo had awakening by himself, accepted himself as THE strongest, felt a little untouchable and so able to change things, was choosing teaching and facing the elders-- and getou's conflicting ideals and sacrifices in all his comparative powerlessness as missions by himself piled up sent him spiraling. the dam breaks and getou takes his own route and so becomes a wound gojo would hold onto for the rest of his life. a pain that would be weaponised against him. it's feels like such a flip from adult gojo being seemingly too cool, uncaring and childish, when in fact it's getou who treats their past friendship as some trivial teenage stuff, while gojo holds onto everything with deep regret, and later with deep betrayal at seeing getou's corpse used this way.

ppl talk a lot of his ascension after this and not enough about the sheer trauma of being slaughtered. it lead satoru to obsess over perfecting his technique, and not take notice of what was going on with suguru. he was in his head so much that he couldn’t see the distance growing between them. he, like suguru, was deeply affected by his failures

cw: delulu fuel

author's note: it's 5 am and i can't sleep... i have to fix my sleep schedule at some point :DD i posted this on mobile so idk if it looks messed up i'll just edit it later

guys... i think alhaitham is the type to pull your chair closer to him. like. just imagine sitting beside him while you guys are trying to look at some information on a book and there's a space between your chairs. like a foot length of space, and you deliberately sat a bit far from him as to not get into his personal bubble. and alhaitham just... he just does it unconsciously. he notices that you keep craning your neck to get a good look on the book, so his hand just automatically grabs the underside of your seat and pulls you closer to him. the muscles in his arms flex and you can very much see it from his cutoff, skintight arm sleeve. he does it with such ease and nonchalance, he doesn't even acknowledge it. he just goes back to reading while you're staring at him flustered because he just?? pulled you really close to him?? we don't have to be this close to share the book?? you can literally see the parts of his hair where the gray gradually turns into white and the hints of green on it from the little space between you. you harshly suck in a breathe and just continue to focus on gathering the information you need, but you fail to see the slight upturn of alhaitham's lips and his hand that doesn't let go from gently gripping the side of your seat.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

cw: suggestive, nsfw, dubcon-ish(?) if u squint

author's note: my first post, woohoo!! this is literally just an idea dump, very cliché scenarios and idk what this is actually lolll

the kamisato clan's head finds out about your hobby in an unexpected way. he made the effort to finish all of his tasks for the next two days, an act to spend more time with his lovely wife, having been mostly absent for the first few months of your arranged marriage. it was late in the afternoon when he retired to your shared room, waiting for you to return from your trip to inazuma city. you picked up a hobby to busy yourself with, as he wasn't always around the estate. you have developed a liking for reading books from the yae publishing house, going there at least once a week. his eyes find your desk on the side of the room, with papers haphazardly scattered all over it. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head at your surprising messiness. in an attempt to tidy up the space, his eyes catch some words on the paper in your neat handwriting.

the fireflies had already lit up the night when you arrived. you slip off your geta when you reach the entrance of the estate. your feet are slow and quiet as you walk towards the room, clutching the newly bought books and writing materials close to your chest, afraid to disturb your husband, who must be resting at this time. your eyebrows raise in surprise as you slide the door open to reveal ayato sitting on the edge of the bed.

"my lord! why are you still awake this late at night?" the title you call him makes him smirk. he stands up from his position and stills in front of you. a smile paints his face, and your eyes automatically drop down to the beauty mark under his lips.

"i thought i told you not to call me that, sweetheart." ayato gently pried the materials from your hold and put them down on your nearby desk. an small noise bubbles from your throat as his warm and lithe fingers brush against your hand. "i am your husband, and you are my wife. i believe we're past such formalities, don't you think?" his lavender eyes stared at you as his figure loomed over your own, and he waited for your response.

"i, uh," you stammered nervously as his towering presence created an intimidating aura. you stepped backward, leaned your hands and sat slightly on the desk for support. "i didn't think we were affectionate enough for each other to cross such a line, my lord."

he laughs a little, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "i suppose, so. although," your heart beats faster as he slowly walks towards you, leaning in close, close enough for your noses to brush each other now and then. this is the closest you've been to ayato in the span of your marriage. the unusual proximity does wonders for you; your heart beats faster, and your senses are heightened. you can feel the warmth of his body as both of his hands cover your own, effectively trapping you against the table. your husband leans over to whisper in your ear. "i would believe you if your insistence on calling me "my lord", didn't remind me of something."

"a-and what may that be, my lord?"

"'my lord's hands slowly inch up the supple skin of my thigh under the fabric, all the while pinning me on his desk.' sound familiar, darling?" your eyes widen in shock, and a strange feeling like electricity crawls all throughout your body.

"that- it's for a book i'm writing!" you turn your head to defend silently, followed by an audible gulp.

"why didn't you tell me you were writing such a book for the yae publishing house, hmm? is that why the books you buy also have such explicit themes, sweetheart?" more embarrassment comes over you in the mention that he has seen the content of your books. you guess the additional plain paper covers you had put over them were not enough.

"well- it- it helps for reference?" you answer, unsure and embarrassed that you had just indirectly admitted your inexperience. ayato lets out a breathless laugh and smirks. he faces you and takes your chin in his hands. he looks down on you; his light purple eyes pulling you into him, hypnotizing you away.

"darling," he purrs, and the deep rumble of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. your breath gets caught in your throat when his hand moves to your shoulder and carefully pushes you down on your back on the desk.

"my lord," you call out weakly, getting lost as you feel him settle himself between your legs. his tall figure hovers above you as his hand reaches the hem of your yukata. he bends down and kisses the corner of your open mouth. the desire to be touched was consuming you.

"if you wanted reference," he bucks his clothed hips on yours and takes pleasure in the pant you breathe out. your legs wrap around his waist, feeling hot as he continues to grind down on you slowly.

"i could show you much more than what your meager book has."

likes and reblogs are much appreciated!!

Jjk spoilers

In all honesty, I'm not suprised that Suguru was the one that drifted off onto a different path and not Satoru or Shoko.

Satoru was born with the six eyes and his fate was set onto a road starting and ending inside of the jujutsu society. His reason of existence is simply to exorcise and save those who fall in the hands of curses. Nothing more, nothing less.

Although not much is known about Shoko, we've seen how she acted towards Suguru becoming a curse user, calling it stupid, hinting onto the fact that her will as a sorcerer was naturally strong. Not only that, but unlike those who act on the front lines, she's a doctor and one of the very few people that can use reverse cursed technique.

Suguru was said to be kind, which is something to be taken for granted in the series. (Yuuji for example, regardless of how kind he stays, he wouldn't be rewarded with anything). In a world full of losses and despair, his kindness would be tainted just like everything else. To add more weight onto him, he never had a family that could support his ideologies and his sense of direction in life, unlike Satoru (and maybe Shoko).

After the events of the storyline, only Suguru became conflicted. Satoru stayed the same for the most part; instead, he could be considered to have become a better (stronger) version of himself. Suguru stayed behind and couldn't find his way out of his conflicting ideologies, ending up as the way he became.

He lost his kindness, only sparing it for those worthy protecting sometimes.

Perhaps the things also turned out the way they came to be because Suguru wasn't as special as Satoru and Shoko. Satoru was born in the Gojo clan and possessed the six eyes, Shoko was a reverse cursed technique user that could also use it on others.

Suguru never had any abnormal abilities, and the only thing he gained eventually was the title of a special-grade sorcerer. He was talented, but to be considered special in the area he was in required much more than talent alone.

I love Suguru

Why is Geto associated with dragonflies in some fanarts? Is his name associated with it like Yaga's name is to moth?

It is from one of Q&A in the fanbook.

The question asked how much of original Getou was left when his arm moved by itself, which Gege answered that it was like a dragonfly whose neck has been broken but still moving. Something like a postmortem spasm.

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

Gojo’s living that hard life as a single father at the tender age of 16, so to prevent Megumi from putting himself back up for adoption, you step in. It turns out that raising a child with someone can cause complicated feelings.

wc —10k

contains — vomit, goldfish death, JJK spoilers, (1) instance of Megumi slut shaming Gojo but it is resolved, minor mention of violence (it’s jjk come on), Gojo is significantly nerfed because he’s about 10 years younger and I needed it for the plot 😁

The first time you see Gojo again after he murders his best friend, he has a child clinging to him, which says a lot about his mental state. Of everyone in your generation, your first pick to be a parent would not be the man who is currently holding the still unknown child by the scruff of his neck, like a cat. 

A sad, traumatized cat with a head that looks too big for the rest of it’s body. The child makes desperate eye contact with you, arms and legs dangling helplessly. You’re not sure how long Gojo’s been holding him like that, but judging by his expression, it’s been long enough. 

Shoko finds her voice first. “Did you…steal a baby?” 

The lump of black hair and seething eyes that Gojo’s carrying grits out, “I’m a first grader.” 

Keep reading

meadow

ao3.

Megumi’s newest trick is a bird. The owlish thing, Nue, is a giant—all spiny terracotta feathers, all talons, and electrified. The Fushiguro siblings and their young warden watch it slow dive into the distance, sloping along the tree line and casting a star-like shadow on the meadow.

Nue is wide enough to eclipse the sun. As it perches atop the hinoki, it shrouds the three of them. The young Fushiguro stands still as Gojo’s eyes flit over to him; even with subconscious mastery, his tiny figure is nearly imperceptible in the darkness.

“Can you call it over, Megumi-kun?” Gojo asks. Megumi nods once. With a steely glint in his eyes, Nue descends.

“Wow, you’re so amazing, Megumi-chan!” Tsumiki says, voice high and bright. She grips Gojo’s right hand in hers, carefully applying polish to his fingers. Three bottles, three different shades, and one sheet of stickers. Mindful of the uneven ground, Gojo uses infinity to keep the polish upright.

Keep reading

ramé 4.0

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|4| gather info from your crush.

[READ 1.0 HERE AND 2.0 HERE AND 3.0 HERE!]

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; tooth-rotting fluff; pining!satoru [as usual]; however- the reader is kind of less oblivious here; gojo's so in love with ya... he loves teasing ya quite a lot though; mention of relationships, confessions, crushes & first love; just some nice fluff with humorous & romantic undertones & easter eggs

▸ this is what i was cooking for dinner, @afortoru 🥰🥰

▸ tsuki ga kirei desu ne = the moon is beautiful, isn't it? [poetic way of saying 'i love you' in japan]; anata mo utsukushii = so are you [a flirtatious (& slightly uncommon) reply to this way of confessing one's feelings]

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"tsuki ga kirei desu ne."

"anata mo utsukushii."

a long minute passes between gojo and you, gazes fixed on the other person and only them, before you lick your chapped lips - the boy's attention instantly going to that hynotic motion of your tongue...

and you pinch his arm.

"ow shortie!!!! what the fuck was that for!?!?" the boy yells, massaging the sore spot on his arm, before out of nowhere, the red signal glows green and he has to shift his focus to the steering wheel.

you toss him a mad scowl from the passenger's seat, one he catches effortlessly, winking, when an observation crashes upon him and he coos. "aww, did my itty-bitty-shortie-baby just get flustered by me? aww, is she blushing? aww, she's so cute!!!"

"i asked you to help me learn how to confess, gojo," you grumble with a glare at him, "not make fun of me."

your co-passenger makes an affronted face at your words, although, internally, he is beside himself. and to be honest, how can he not?

you're in the same car as him, on a three hour long drive from tokyo to nikko, exchanging declarations of love with one another while the boy's (spare) shades slide down the bridge of your nose and he hums along to the songs you choose on the stereo... if a few facts are being ignored (like the one where this is your mission and the two of you are in your uniforms), the second-year can totally imagine the two of you going on a weekend getaway as a couple now.

a soft smile settles on his lips, as he sneaks a glance of you from the corner of his eyes. "i wasn't trying to make fun of ya, shortie," he says, "i was just responding to your statement."

"but that directly?" you ask, shock and embarrassment flooding your face. your friend stifles a chuckle. "i commented on the moon being beautiful. you should've said something like 'it is, isn't it?' - but no, you went and replied, 'so are you'. my admirer will never be so direct with me; why don't you try to understand that simple fact?"

there are a few days when gojo is really divided between wanting to flick your forehead hard and wanting to kiss you senseless.

today seems to be one such glorious day.

swerving the car onto a stop by the side of the road, he lets his head fall onto the steering wheel and lifts it to lock his eyes with yours.

"and what makes you think your admirer won't be a direct guy?"

"the fact the guy couldn't even show his face to me once, and did not even want to share his contact details with me, despite me pestering him via suguru and nanami, for ages now."

okay, ouch, that one's on him.

yet, never being the one to accept defeat, he throws back, "and what if he wants to build up some mystery before your first meet? you love mysteries, don't you? the guy likes you; he must be trying to use that knowledge to confess to you."

"i like only murder mysteries, 'toru," your deadpan response arrives in a beat, which then evolves into curiosity when you ask, "but how do you know so much about these things? how many relationships have you been in, 'toru?"

it's gojo's turn to grow embarrassed now. hand reaching out to fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, he answers, "zero."

"hey, don't be embarrassed," he watches you shoot him a grin. a tiny smile is all he manages to return while you continue, "i too have never been in a relationship. anyone you ever confessed to?"

"isn't that evident from my previous answer?"

"nope! you might've gotten rejected; who knows~"

the grin on your lips widens; gojo looks at it for once before dropping his gaze. under the interplay of the light and shadow from the leaves of the tree, there appears to be something different about you - the sorcerer can't really pinpoint what it is but he knows there is, and he doesn't want to dwell on it - lest he loses his self-control.

"i have never confessed to anyone, and whatever confessions i have received, i've either ignored or rejected them all."

"ooh, same!" your excited voice ringing within the confines of the car, you lift his palm to meet yours in a hi-five. gojo lets you do so - before you place it between your two palms and clasp it, a sharp gasp drawn from him at the action. you shoot him a concerned look.

"your hand's freezing cold, 'toru? you okay?"

"yeah, yeah, i'm fine," the boy mumbles, moving his hand away from your comforting warmth - an action he doesn't want to do but has to, for the sake of propriety. something happening out of sheer impulse isn't how he wants to start his story with you - you don't deserve that.

"um, okay," you mutter, then inquire, timid and awkward, "i've one last question on your love life... can i ask that? you can totally ask me to stop though if you're feeling uncomfortable."

"ask away," the boy answers with a smile, he can see, is tense in the mirror as he restarts the car and returns it to the road. a long second passes before you ask, "have you ever liked anyone, 'toru?"

"yeah... there's one girl. i love her."

"oh."

the monosyllabic answer sends a torsion through his chest and gojo twists towards you - only to find a cryptic smile resting on your lips.

discarding your shoes, you fold your knees upto your chest and rest your head atop them, facing him. your senpai is really thankful a soft song comes onto the stereo next, for were it not so, he's certain your soft question would have gone unheard.

"how does your first love feel? beautiful, right? the way it's in books, songs and movies... isn't it?"

gojo takes a moment to mull over your query.

it is... yet it isn't.

the flutters in his heart when you skip past him in the corridors with a beam; the butterflies in his stomach when you plop on the chair next to him in the cafeteria; the dizziness in his head when your face is too close to his; the utterly-unplatonic thoughts of you plaguing him, day and night, dusk and dawn...

the fictional works sure have got this aspect of love right.

but they aren't right in so many other aspects of it.

falling in love with you isn't love-on-first-crash nor is it from a magical transformation in one of you nor is it after ages and ages of ignorance and denial and the final mind-numbing feeling that oh shit! you're the one for him; always have been; the girls with whom he's been till now are mere mirages of you; but it's too late now... you're moving abroad on a flight in two hours, with a boyfriend who's far better than him.

no.

the goggles-wearing sorcerer's catching feelings for you is way more realistic and easier to digest than that.

the two of you are friends, friends, friends - until the morning the two of you are munching on an ice cream tub, and with a casual glance at you, the boy muses what he feels for you is weird, not like his feelings for his other friends - and after a month's worth research, reaches the conclusion of him being in love with you.

quick. direct. smart.

just like the heir of the gojo clan himself.

a small smile lining his lips on this short trip down the memory lane, your senpai hums, "it's complicated. you'll understand when you have your first love."

a soft sigh is the only response you give and gojo reaches over to give a small knock to the side of your head. "don't overthink, shortie," the boy says in a fond tone, a feeling which expands within himself at the smile you offer him, "everything's gonna be okay; i'll personally make sure it is."

"oh, yeah?" a brow rises while your eyes crinkle in a cheeky grin. "and how exactly do you plan on doing that? you gonna have a serious talk with my admirer or something, before our first date?"

if talks in the mirror over the bathroom sink counts, the white-haired boy has had countless discussions so far - but he doesn't tell you that - choosing to return your question with a question of his own.

one which has been pestering him for a while now.

"but, shortie... why the hell are you practising-"

"to confess now?" stealing his words from the tip of his tongue, gojo watches you let out a long tired exhale, then slump back in your seat, a hint of a smile on your lips. flying strands of your hair, from the wind rushing in through the open window, form a halo around your head-

your friend thinks you are an angel descended from above, no matter how you look.

a titter breaks his enraptured gaze on you, and he blinks, finding you with a tiny curve of your lips. you continue, "i wanna stay prepared. if not for this date, then another. if not for this guy, then another. but the thing is, i wanna stay prepared. for love and for everything that comes with it - besides..." your smile grows bashful, an emotion gojo instantly realizes is impossible for him to get tired of seeing on you; you shrug.

"the heart does what it wants, does it not?"

really??

the young sorcerer looks away from you for a beat, letting his gaze travel over the rows of trees dotting the increasingly mountainous terrain, then looks back at you.

the two of you are awfully close to the destination of your trip.

removing a hand from the wheel and reaching it out to intertwine his fingers with yours, the boy asks, "wanna go visit that patisserie i was talking of the other day after this mission? i've heard the sweets there are worth dying for."

"but won't it be late evening by the time our job's done?" you ask back with a frown, "and we also have to return to the school... why don't-"

"it's a full moon tonight, shortie," gojo interjects you with a soft little smile. you stare befuddled at him for a while, before the bulb lights to life in your brain - an event bringing a semblance of relief to the boy - and you laugh.

"oh, oh, oh!" you exclaim, waggling your eyebrows, "i know exactly what you're going to do. you're gonna create a romantic atmosphere to teach me how to confess, aren't you? method teaching - eh, 'toru?"

a chuckle is what gojo decides to offer to your buzzing curiosity, until later this evening.

"i'll let my heart do what it wants to do."

▸ i like fairy cakes from the same universe as this, quite a lot, yk? 😇😇

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

about Gojo, Geto, Shoko, loneliness and love

spoilers for 220

written by my local monkey friend that i got permission to translate! don't take it as actual fact though, this is from our overall perspective from reading the latest chapter.

===========

In Shoko's memory, there's an image of Gojo with the loosed white bandages, who said "I won't let anyone be alone (独り/hitori) anymore" so you can see, the memory is around a year before the main events of jjk (~2017), and the time when vol 0 occured.

Speaking of vol 0, there was a scene at the beginning when Gojo was talking to Yuuta when he received death sentence by the higher ups, he said something similar: "But being alone (一人/hitori) is very lonely?"

They (独り/一人) have they same pronounciation (hitori), but 一人 is to count the number, and 独り is the state of being lonely. For example, you are in a room with 10 people => you're not alone (一人), but you can still feel lonely (独り). Basically, you can be surrounded by many and can still feel lonely. And in chap 220, what Gojo doesn't want his students to go through anymore, is being lonely (独り). on top of that, he used もう誰も (no other (person) anymore) which means Gojo himself had to go through that state, or he witnessed someone else going through it.

What Gojo wanted is "I won't let any other person be lonely anymore", not "I won't let anyone be lonely", meaning he doesn't want the PAST to reoccurred, so it's not him just being kind out of goodwill or anything. The reason for it is to make up for the past he went through.

Back to the subject individual of "being alone" state, Shoko, as one of the 2 people in Gojo's beautiful 3 years of youth, has given the right answer: "Truthfully, being in love (愛/ai) with either of you guys (オマエら/omaera) is something that will never happen even if the world falls down. But I was there (with you) too, what do you mean alone, you idiot. There's this bunch of monsters waiting for you to come back".

Gojo himself never mentions who is the individual behind that "loneliness", himself or someone else, but Shoko can immediately realize what he means. And that is because she links "being alone" with "you guys" (オマエら) (Gojo and Geto), and at the same time thinking about them during school. A Geto Suguru who felt alone with his spiral, with the insane ideals that he thinks no one could understand; and a Gojo who felt alone even though he stood among many peers and comrades because he lost the feeling of standing side by side with someone equal during his "first and last blue spring".

Next, we need to pay attention to the word "love" (愛) that Shoko uses.

Shoko uses 愛 (ai) when talking about her relationship (or lack thereof) between her and her two friends. In most cases, this word means romantic love, and it is heavier than the use of like (好き/tsuki). She is denying to hell and back that never ever in this life that she has feelings for them ("even if the world falls down"), but she "was there" too. It means she admits that she cannot provide (romantic) love for either of them, but she is still there for them as a friend. So, it would be stupid that you can't escape the feeling of loneliness, cannot escape the past.

The above sentence is suspicious, I must say. If you wanna show that Gojo's not going to be lonely with friends and students by his side, then this whole panel and confession of NOT being in love with either of Gojo or Geto are completely unneccessary if you really think about it. And if you want to show that you understand no one can replace a "bestfriend" for Gojo like Geto, then the word "love" is also not neccessary. Not to mention she uses 愛. Yuta uses that word for Rika in the battle. Yorozu said she will give Sukuna this bc she truly loves him.

So why does Shoko use such a term in the negative tone? Why does she want Gojo to know that friendship can also erase loneliness, not just "love"? Isn't it because in Shoko's eyes, Gojo feels that he has lost his "love"? During that 3 years of youth, Gojo never felt lonely because Geto was by his side. So when Geto left, no other person could help Gojo escape that feeling of loneliness anymore. In other words, there's no reason to bring up the idea of love if it's not to underline that it is what Shoko sees in them. Hence the panel is from her POV: it is only Gojo and Geto in that panel, after all.

Shoko confirmed herself. That even though she was "still there", even though "a bunch of monsters" were there surrounding Gojo, he still can't let go of the past, he still thinks that he's "lonely" all this time. "What do you mean alone, you idiot. I was there too". Yes she was there too. Even though she was there. Gojo cannot escape loneliness because Geto has gone. That is the reason why Geto is, and still is Gojo's "bestfriend, the only one he has".

In conclusion (tl/dr):

1. Gojo has not moved on

2. Gojo's current dream/ideal (not letting anyone alone, not letting anyone take away the youth of the young children) is because he wants to make up for the past

3. Shoko knows she can't provide them what they yearn for to truly feel happy when they were together (愛/love), but her and the students can give him care and support and companionship, so he shouldn't said that he's lonely

4. Gojo with Geto by his side is a Gojo who is not lonely

==========

I didn't expect to get more insight into Shoko's POV of the whole ordeal, but I'm glad we did. Shoko's denial of being in love with them isn't just there for no reason. There is no reason for her, of all people, to bring such a topic up under such circumstances: the children are going to fight to the death to save him and others. Shoko is also calling him out for thinking he's been alone, even though her and others are there for him. Which is... very sad to me. Geto is such a huge loss to Gojo, such an irreplacable existence, that when he's gone from this world, he made a huge void, and Gojo keeps gazing into that void, thinking he's lonely. He doesn't want anyone to be lonely like that, when Shoko calls his bullshit out because he has friends!!! He losed his love, and Shoko can't bring his love back, but she and the kids are there to support him in other ways too!!

I'm not saying this perspective is correct and canon, but it just makes so much sense that way for me. Gege has been playing the vague game about Gojo and Geto's relationship since v0, what with the mysterious last words, and now this mysterious love from Shoko's POV. I just love Satosugu and how Gege builds their relationship.

minors dni - 18+

listen listen listen

Satoru who's messy when he's going down on you. Lapping at you with a watery mouth and leaving behind a slobbery trail. Acting like a starved man.

And you'd think with the way he lets out moans, he was the one on the receiving end of pleasure. He's so whiny and loud. Low groans stumbling out of him as he tastes your essence. And he moans with every suck to your bundle of nerves too.

Fully convinced he gives you head for his own pleasure, because when you're tugging on his hair and gushing on his face, his whines are almost as loud as yours.

Don't even get me started on how he gets when you go down on him. He can't even keep his head up long enough for you to look him in the eyes. Oh and when you spit on his dick, he might just cum from that alone. He can't help it when his baby looks so pretty tucked between his legs.

He's just down bad okay </33

thinking about how falling in love for the first time would terrify gojo.

satoru holds the moon in his hands like it’s made of glass.

it’s unexpected and he almost can’t believe it, but there’s no mistaking the sense of warmth that settles in his chest whenever you’re within his sight, and the subdued melancholy when you aren’t. or how he always seeks your comfort when the weight of the world threatens to break him; and how a mere smile or laugh from you can make it all better.

he isn’t sure when his walls came tumbling down or why you’ve stuck around after seeing what lies beneath—that callous, arrogant, and flippant part of him. it terrifies him because satoru knows his own power better than anyone. he knows just how easy it is for him to destroy something precious. cruelty is an old vice, one that he keeps close and hidden. it has no place in something as sweet as love. but there’s no telling that he won’t hurt you, even if it’s the last thing that he wants.

he almost wants to put the moon back in the night sky, safe where he can’t harm her. but she’s so lovely in his hands, bathing him in a gentle light that reaches the depths of his heart, settling the tides raging within. it’s then that he realizes that the moon isn’t made of glass—the moon is a deity. he was fooled by her beauty and the kiss of her beams into thinking her fragile—weak.

but the moon is strong enough to pull forces to her will, to withstand someone as powerful as him. so satoru curls his palms over the moon and brings her to his lips, promising to treasure you as you do him.

Through a Mother's Eyes: 2.0 (gojo x f!reader)

Second Trimester

series summary:

For the first time in jujutsu history, two six-eyed wielders will walk the earth in the 21st century. Prophesized that Satoru Gojo will father the next user and the mother coming from your bloodline, you decided to take on the role to erase your family’s debts. The only catch? Your child’s first breath will be your last.

chapter summary:

Tensions rise between you and Gojo when he comes back overseas. He gets the wrong message and an unresolved argument leads to an unexpected event.

next part. previous. series master list.

content/warnings: pregnancy, arguments, mild violence, some angst, gojo gets the wrong idea, reader is super stressed out, reader makes an accident.

words: 6.0k

note: taglists are now closed

‘Hi baby! Does this voice sound familiar to you? It’s Momma speaking to you through this recording! Look! Can you wave back to me?’

2. Second Trimester

13 weeks

He missed it. Satoru Gojo missed the first ultrasound of his unborn child.

The international mission he was assigned to took a toll on his students, so being the frontman of this assignment ate up a majority of his time. He did let you know two days prior via phone call (he forgot the timezone differences, so he was confused about why you sounded extra cranky.) And aside from that, you understood his reasonings, but you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, since this was a milestone you hoped that both co-parents would experience together. 

Fortunately, your mother came with you on that day as his replacement. She was the one who held her breath and your hand while Dr. Ieiri (though she persisted in you just calling her Shoko) scanned the little being inside of you. Your mother was the one who shed tears of joy, though you knew that the happiness she showcased wasn’t 100% true. She was ecstatic to be a grandmother, but each milestone reminded her of what was to come.

During Gojo’s absence, you were in charge of a what’s soon-to-be extraneous and tedious task. You scouted the top sorcerer caregivers of Japan and brought them to the estate, going through an intense interview process. It started off well, but as 3 interviews became 10 and 10 turned into 20, you couldn’t help but feel exhausted by the end of the week.

“None of them surpassed your expectations?” Gojo’s sentence heightened through the other end of the telephone line. You sighed and nodded as if he could see you.

“They were great, but I couldn’t connect with them. They only talked about how they could raise our baby as a sorcerer.”

You half-expected for him to agree, but instead, you were interrogated.

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“No, that’s not what I mean-” You defended apologetically. “I meant that they only focused on our kid’s potential and not on them as a child. That’s what I’m missing from them. You understand?”

“I guess.” Though, he didn’t sound too convincing.

“…”

“How was the ultrasound?” Gojo changed the topic and you still felt unsatisfied with the open-ended topic. However, you complied with moving on, since he was probably extremely busy.

You rolled over on your bed, stretching out your back. As of lately, your back had been aching, the, unfortunately, beautiful gift of pregnancy. “It was good. I went with my mom and our baby’s healthy.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Gojo chuckled, granting a smile from your end. “I wish I was there to see them for the first time.”

“There will be many ultrasounds in the future. I forgot how long until the next one, but that’s when Dr. Ieiri says we’ll find out the gender.”

“Then I’ll be there. For real, this time.”

“Senseiiiiiii!” A new voice intercepted, coming from Gojo’s side. His loud and enthusiastic tone almost made you drop your phone. “Look! It’s the Statue of Liberty!”

“Idiot! Can’t you see he’s on the phone right now!” This time, a feminine voice swooped and scolded the boy. 

“Yes, it’s right there, Yuji! Wow, it’s a lot smaller in person... That's a shame.” Your co-parent acknowledged them for a brief moment, before returning to you. “Sweetheart?”

“Must be nice to be able to visit New York again.” Your fingers tapped on your chest and stifled a yawn. “When you come back, you’re bringing me back a pizza.”

“I’ll have it in the fridge, in the early morning. Though, it might be half-eaten!”

“But I want mine with jalapeños!” You grinned as Gojo grunted dramatically.

“Then that’s not real New York-style pizza!”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what I’m feeling right now.” You yawned. “Speaking of which, I’m tired and I have to be up in 5 hours. I’ll let you go back to your mission or sightseeing.”

“Hey! I’m productive too.” You could imagine him pouting. 

“Whatever. Don’t push yourself too hard. Goodnight, good afternoon or good morning, tourist.”

“It’s aftern-“

You hung up and threw the phone on the other side of the bed.

The smile that you had while talking faded and you glanced at the ceiling above, fingers interlocking over your belly. Gojo always took pride in his students, bombarding you with stories of them whenever he accompanied them on trips. It showed that he truly cared for them, even though it only sounded like one (Itadori, you assume) was the only student who respected him. You had yet to meet them and you didn’t know if you would ever. However, it made you feel better that Gojo would acknowledge his part in loving his child, even if he’d be gone from time to time.

In a few hours, it’d be time to do your part.

Rolling over once more, you spot a camera that sat on your desk, attached to a small tripod. It was a new method that you’ve thought of- secretly recording video diaries of your pregnancy journey, to your baby. Journal writing was your initial plan, but it was quickly decided that directly talking to your child via video where they could hear your voice and see you, would be much more memorable.

It was the best solution, but you wished that this wouldn’t’ve been an issue in the first place.

14 weeks

“Thank you, have a great day.” You repeated that phrase for the billionth time. The caregiver-candidate sitting in front of you nodded politely, stood up, and bowed before being escorted by one of the helpers. When you were the only person in the room, you dug the heels of your palms into your eyes and heaved drastically before laying back on the couch.

It was the 10th time this week that you had to turn down a nanny for your little one and even though it was the early stages of finding one, you couldn’t help but feel stressed already. For two weeks, you ventured off to one of your first tasks as a soon-to-be-dead mother by interviewing future caregivers. As stated, these were the prime nannies of Japan- and for two parents who were looking for a usual babysitter, all of these candidates would’ve surpassed their expectations. However, they couldn’t appease you.

Some were too proper, many were too strict, and all weren’t good enough. Though Ms. Kato wasn’t Gojo’s main caregiver growing up, she was the closest person to fulfill that motherly duty to him. Jokingly (not really), you offered her the position to be your little one’s guide, but she said how her old age would refrain your child from getting the proper care. (Also, she feared that if your kid shared an ounce of Gojo’s wild energy as a toddler, she’d go into early cardiac arrest.)

As the number of failures accumulate over the past 2 weeks, you also frustratingly snapped at some of the innocent helpers for just being there. A word about your anger had spread like wildfire. Some of the helpers you would converse with, no longer treated you with the same causality. When you would eat your lunch in the kitchen, all but Ms. Kato would leave quickly. Even when you stepped into any space, all the liveliness halted. The maids would bow politely and return to their duties in silence.

It saddened you as well since you knew very well that your changed behavior had resulted in the new atmosphere. If you weren’t sad, you were frustrated. If you weren’t frustrated, you were sad. Your negativity removed your drive to record video diaries for your child, because who wants to see a sad mommy? It was hard for you to have things go back to the way it was and due to the beauty of raised hormones, you became snappier by the hour.

“I don’t see why you’re able to just pick one.” Gojo blurted your name, his own frustrations building as well. After two weeks of barely being home, the strongest sorcerer finally made it back, absolutely drenched with fatigue. 

Even without his gift, the man had the emotional intelligence to determine how his helpers were uneasy in his house. The lack of coziness was something he didn’t expect and fairly disliked. And by seeing how militarized they were around you, someone who looked like they haven’t had a proper sleep in weeks, he could sense the problem.

Your hand clamped on the back of the couch that you once lounged on, prior to Gojo coming home an hour before.

“I’ve already said it a million times, Gojo.” Your free hand rubbed your temple in irritation. “These caregivers are not good enough for our child.”

“I’ve sent in all of the best sorcerer nannies in Japan. Do you want me to bring international ones too?” His suggestion did not bring any comfort. The sorcerer wondered if his parents had the same situation when they were expecting him. Although, he imaged them to be much more mundane and cooperative with each other.

“No, they’re not going to be good enough-“ You rubbed your growing belly, thinking about your little one’s future.

You both, on the other hand, were not only standing on different steps but were on two different sets of stairs. Gojo stood in his place, not capturing the sense coming out of your mouth.

“Sweetheart, you haven’t even tried.”

“Is interviewing over 25 caregivers for the past two weeks me not trying?!” Your grip on the couch tightened and your voice was strained. You were at the peak of your stress and exhaustion, the unfortunate highlight of the past few days. “I’ve been up day and night for the past 2 weeks sorting through their credentials, being yapped in the ear, because I want my child to have a proper maternal figure in their life! Am I not trying, Gojo?!”

The man you convicted took a step back and held an open palm out to retaliate against your anger. “Okay, I used the wrong phrase. But look.” He placed his feet and stood firmly on the ground like his voice. “You’re stressing out way too much over this. These nannies will be the best mentors for our kid’s abilities-“

“-mother, Gojo.” You corrected with pure ice. “Our child needs a mother, a parental figure to guide them. Not some mentor who will aid their powers. I thought you out of all people will know what’s best.”

“Excuse me?” It was his turn to be offended. “First of all, I do know what’s best. Our baby will grow up living under similar circumstances as I did. But this time, it’ll be better. Because I’ll be the primary parental figure and mentor for them. They're just the secondary, so you need to calm down.”

You bit your tongue at the lowness of his tone, realizing that you’d inched over a line that was barricading the secrets of his personal life. However, his claim at the end still caught you by storm.

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “You’re going to be the primary caregiver and mentor?! You, Gojo? Please.”

The disbelief sliding out of your throat had made Gojo’s heart pound- but it was far from a good way. Why not? That was his plan from the beginning.

“You can’t simply do both-“ You continued.

“-Why not?” He interrupted.

Your head began to spiral as the nerve-racking emotions embedded in you began to speak for themselves. Your tongue was on fire and the fuel was your fear for your baby’s future.

“I need someone reliable, a caregiver who will always be there for the baby.” You defended and your inner soul guilty for retaliating, but this time, the brain spoke faster than the heart. “You’re a busy man, Gojo. I’m not saying that you’re going to be a shit father, but our baby deserves a figure to raise and cherish them 24/7. And you and I both can’t be that person.”

Your chest rumbled and the strain in your throat strengthened. Your fears spilled out through fallen tears and your hands instantly swiped them. It broke you, knowing that you could never enjoy the fruit of your labor, the creation of your son or daughter. As disheveled as you were, you still mourn the same. Not for your predetermined death, but the inability to see your creation grow under your wing. Therefore, you hawked on the overly-qualified caregivers, who excelled in child discipline, education, and proper etiquette. But they could never surpass the one trait you were looking for: actual love. And through a mother’s eyes, that’s far from acceptable.

“Is this about me missing the ultrasound?” He only dissected the first layer out of a major core issue.

“Far from it. It’s about everything, Gojo.” You seethed, words burning in his mind. “It’s not the present that I’m worried about, but also the future.”

The argument was no longer about a suitable caregiver, but a relationship between a soon-to-be-father and his role in an unbounded future. 

“I’ll be there for our baby. My priority is going to be their well-being. We’re both going to be strong together and I feel like I’m the best option to offer that support.” If you weren’t so consumed by your own frustrations, you’d be able to read the sadness laced around his determination. How true is that statement?

You shook your head, more tears spilling. “No Gojo, no… Your priority is the world. Taking our child underneath your wing isn’t prioritizing their well-being. It’s the world’s. If you’re already too busy as of now, how would you be in years’ time? You just came back after a 2-week trip and I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I come back to you every night-“ He clenched your name through gritted teeth.

“-But that’s because I spoke up about it! And we didn’t see each other, anyways! If I never threw a fit and accidentally put our child in danger because I starved myself, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation! You’d be running off to the other side of the world, doing God knows what! I need commitment. I need to trust you, Gojo… For our baby’s sake.”

Your voice trembled and your shoulders rumbled as a sob approached you. The feeling of being pathetic was combatted with the pride of putting your foot down. With your body turned away from the uniform-dressed sorcerer, your body forced itself to withdraw with your fears and stress as you transected waves of outburst cries.

And all the while, the father of your child stood with an expression of anguish. You couldn’t see it, but behind his covered face, his eyes widened at the realization. 

An absent father… Is that what he will be? Is that what you truly view him as?

He could barely whisper, his own stomach plummeting to the ground. 

“Do you… Do you not trust me?”

And no matter your reasoning, Gojo couldn’t escape the gash you lashed out on him. He bled, realizing that even if he had split the earth in half, through your eyes, he’s not good enough to parent your shared child.

It was faint, but you heard it all. The broken fragments that you’ve created. For the first time, you thanked the stars that you couldn’t see his full expression on the other side of the blindfold.

“Your existence unbalanced the world, didn’t it? How much more difficult would the Earth be for you to hold once our baby is born? The scales would be tipped once again and I’m afraid that the limited spare time you’ll have won’t be enough to raise them.”

And through your emoted fears, all Gojo could only simply process one thing.

‘You’re unfit to be a father.’

His right fist clenched tightly as he ran a hand through his silver locks, face red as frustration turned into anger.

“No. Nope, I’m not accepting that b.s.” He almost spat out, surprising you. “No. This is going to be different. Unlike my upbringing, I know what to do for my child. I’ve lived through the hardships so they won’t. I’m not going to abandon them like you think.”

“I never said that you would abandon them! You’re just twisting my words, Gojo.” You stepped forward. That was far from your intention, and though you didn’t know much about him, you were confident that  Gojo is more than capable to love and care for his child.  However, your own focus was how often he’ll be there, not if. 

“Then what is it?! Huh?!” He snapped, closing the gap even more. However, the mistranslation had spread you two further apart. “I’m the strongest being alive, so I’ll apparently be way too occupied to save the world. I guess with my power and status, I’ll be nothing more than an absent father whose sole connection to my kid is their power!”

“Gojo, that’s not what I mean.” This time, you felt bad for unintentionally accusing your baby’s father of a trait that didn’t resemble him.

“That’s exactly what you mean.” His blind irritation spoke for him. “Just because I’m not glued to your hip 24/7 doesn’t mean that I won’t be there for my child!”

“… Jesus Christ, are you even hearing yourself right now?!” Your voice mildly rose. “When did I say that?! When?!”

You turned away, displeased with how he antagonized you. The tears that spilled down your face turned hot, flamed by the rising anger. Having his (now agonizing) presence all day and night was far from what you needed. The discrepancy between his personal feelings and your logical thinking for the baby’s future needs lied unknown. Nonetheless, both parties were left severely distressed.

You felt your stomach warm-up, a tingling sensation vibrated all around your body. The longtime pound from your heart relayed continuously, the beat getting louder and louder. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes, placing a hand on your belly, reeling your unborn child in for comfort.

The environment became all too aggressive for your liking. Gojo’s stress- likely from his mission added onto your stress- most definitely from your own mission. You needed to get out before something dangerous could happen.

However, Gojo wasn’t willing to let go.

“I hear myself loud and clear, thank you!” He spat flame after flame. “Do you know how hard it is to do what I usually do and come back for you?! For our baby? I could’ve just left you in the arms of the helpers and continued on with my ‘merry way,’ but I’m doing everything I can to prove to you that I am going to be a capable father.”

You couldn’t help but look at him stupidly. ‘What the hell is he arguing about?’

It was even more infuriating since it was obvious that anything you say would travel from one ear and out of his other. 

“Okay, you know what?” You ran your fingers through your hair and forced yourself to take a deep breath. “You’re not understanding anything I’m saying. How about you go to sleep and when you wake up, we get to situate things out like actual adults? … Jesus, you sound too much like my sister when she wouldn't listen.”

The sorcerer’s ears perked up and clapped his hands once, pinpointing your mumbled sentence. “See, that’s what I mean! That, right there. You think I’m too childish.”

“Right now, yes.” You answered not skipping a beat, while your heart jumped over multiple. “Go look at yourself in the mirror and you’ll understand why! You’re being severely childish and self-centered for making assumptions about things that I clearly never said and that I’m always taking it easy!”

Gojo inhaled deeply, his ears shaded into a darker red. Even from the exterior, you imagined his blood boiling in that tall, lean body of his, knowing that you’ve struck a nerve or two. However, he plucked multiple from yours.

“Whatever.” He grumbled and yanked on his collar. “I’m done talking to you, anyways.”

Your beaded eyes widened, layers of pride had sweated off your body.

“Fine! I’m done entertaining your smart ass today, too.” You crossed your arms. “Next time when you’re in a shitty mood, let me know before you spiral. I could’ve stayed over at my family’s house.”

“Why don’t you go then?” Gojo sneered, wanting to get the last word. “In fact, since I’m too uncommitted to being with you anyways, why don’t you do both of us a favor and spend your remaining days with them? The only reason why I needed you here is because of the baby.”

Your jaw clenched tightly at his retort. And immediately, the sorcerer lightly gasped as he retracted his tongue.

He was right. Your sole purpose of being brought before the Satoru Gojo was because of the predetermined destiny. You were nothing but a baby maker whose sole purpose was to bring in a child that would eventually stand equally with the strongest sorcerer. It was a contractual agreement that you signed all those months ago. Your family’s lack of status would be spat in Jujutsu ground and here you were, breaking the rules, arguing opposite of the man who’s the most opposite of you, because the universe decided to make you a carrier of his baby.

You knew that this was all temporary.

You knew that he was being kind- giving you gifts, traveling around the world to satisfy whatever random craving you had, and late-night talks, because of the baby.

You knew that you’d be remotely nothing to him, once the child is born.

You knew that you knew that, you knew that. 

But if you knew that the relationship you had with Gojo was nothing more than a signed agreement, then why did it hurt to hear it come from his mouth?

“Sweetheart…” He finally uttered the nickname that had left an opposite taste in your mouth. Hesitantly, his right foot stepped forward and his hand was reaching out for your arm. “I didn’t mean what I’ve just said.”

You could only laugh hopelessly.

“No… You did.” You shook your head as the heavy feeling in your heart brought you down even further. “Assumptions, right? Therefore, I assume that you did mean everything that you’ve said, because let’s face it, Gojo- it’s the truth.”

The strain in your throat returned, airing out any sentence you’ve gashed towards him. “I’m nothing to you but the carrier of your child. That’s the whole, inevitable truth- But man…” You shook your head up to the ceiling, biting your bottom lip. “I thought we were actually heading towards the friendship route. And I was looking forward to that, I really was.”

“But-“

“Stop it.” Clearly, it was your turn to have the upper hand in this conversation, powerful or powerless. You wiggled on a frail smile. “Just… I don’t know. You’re drained Gojo, and I am too. Go get some rest and I’ll stay somewhere else overnight. I can’t be in the same house as you right now.”

Baffled, Gojo inhaled sharply again and you wished you could see the full display behind his blindfold. What is he expressing? Concern? Contentment? Neutrality?

A big part of you just wanted to walk up there and rip the black fabric off of him. God forbid, but you’d like to see your co-parent’s face one day before you perish from this world.

“You don’t have to do this Sweetheart. I’ll-“ His voice was more gentle, coaxing.

“Stop calling me that too.” You demanded firmly. “Our ‘relationship’ was never that strong for you to call me that stupid nickname, anyways.”

You never knew where it came from, and it’s more than likely that he called you that out of playfulness. But there were moments where you’d mix up playfulness with endearment.

All of a sudden, everything in the living room became too bright and the still air pricked your arms and legs, layering each limb with massive goosebumps. Your fingertips numbed and you felt a sudden weight on your belly. The intense feelings combined with the pressure on your chest and swirling lightheadedness.

With you, the world was spinning and the long-gone nausea returned from its disappearance. Your ears rang with a petrifying high tune.

Gojo acknowledged the change of energy- how yours drastically increased… no not yours- the baby’s.

Your palms covered your ears, in a failed attempt to dilute the ringing tone. Teeth gritted not from any pain, but from the feeling of being overwhelmed. Waves and waves of this strange, new phenomenon washed over you, electrifying your soul to an outstanding light of this indescribable feeling.

It was too much for a regular human, such as you, to ingest.

“Hey- Stay with me… Can you hear me?” It took you a while to realize that Gojo was chanting your name with his hands on your shoulders. You tried to open your eyes, but it was only shut by the brightness of his presence. Why was there a large, blue aura surrounding him?

“Out…” You barely squeaked as the pressure had almost pulled you in. “I need to get out.”

The chatter with familiar voices emerged, and you could obviously tell it was from the helpers, mixed with the other outside noises. They were distant, but not so much at the same time.

“I wonder what’s going on inside.”

Birds chirping.

“Do you think they’re talking about us?”

The sounds of shoes scraping across the gravel.

“I don’t understand why the Lady yelled at us for the past few days. Honestly, I’m getting sick of it.”

Children running around the estate.

“Yeah! If we get our heads sliced off from Master Gojo, then I’ll give both of them a piece of my mind.”

A child fell.

“Pfft, as if you could combat against him. I am disappointed though, I thought she was very kind at first.”

The child wept.

“Quiet you two!”

You were about to go mad.

Overstimulation did not knock off any stress and you felt like every part of your soul was about to be pulled apart like taffy on a stretching machine. When you felt two hands clasp your cheeks, you opened and squinted your eyes in the direction of the owner. The hands left your face quickly.

“Oh no… Fuck.” The familiar male voice dominated your eardrums.

You reached a handout. “Gojo-?”

When you blinked again, everything stopped. The headache, the brightness, the overwhelming conversations, and noises. It was all still and neutrally warm. But when you fully opened your eyes, you no longer saw the tall, white-haired asshole that was in front of you. In fact, you could no longer see the couch, the wooden walls, and the familiar trinkets from a place you called home for the past few months.

Instead, you saw large trees, an empty walk path, a large body of water to your right, the bright blue sky, and the sun that shined over the glistening water. You were no longer home.

Were you even in Japan?

You now stood in an unknown area with no clue or direction of where to go. And to make matters worse? You didn’t have your phone on you.

——-

After a few moments of being dazed and confused (and freaking out that you teleported in thin air,) you walked around in your house slippers, letting the sun burn your exposed arms, legs, and toes.

“Was it you?!” You scolded your belly as you held onto it for dear life. “I hope it was you for teleporting me. If it was your father, then I’d literally nail him in the head.”

The closest building you could see from the naked eye was the size of a dot and there were no trespassers nearby.  It looked like it could be a mile away. And in order to get there, you had to go through a dark tunnel. For the 5th time, you squeezed your eyes shut and pushed your entire body, hoping you could miraculously teleport again.

But alas, it was your child’s power- not yours, that granted that great move.

The panic only resided very little, but it escalated quickly. You were no longer in an enclosed space, but you were now in a very vast and spacious piece of an unknown land.

“You could’ve at least teleported me somewhere with more people, my dear…” You clung onto the small mold as your feet kicked the dirt path. Worried about how you were going to get out and Gojo’s well-being, you only wished that pain-in-the-ass would come to find you soon. 

After 20 minutes underneath the basking sun, you felt your skin fry from its rays, and numerous beads of sweat dampened your body. Your throat was itchy and dry, and you were severely parched. On top of being mentally exhausted, you were also physically fatigued. You weren’t the most inactive person in the world, but now that you were carrying a child in your body, it became much more difficult for you to keep up with any activity without needing to take a break.

And boy, did that lake look so tempting to dive into.

But aside from your physicality, your heart tremored as it slowly closed in that you were in fact walking on unknown territory. There were no trash, footprints, or any other pieces of evidence that showed that there were other humans that trespassed before you. Even if you had a phone, you concluded that there would be no signal.

Too tired for sobbing, you pushed yourself until you reached the beginning of the dark tunnel. The only source of light was coming from the other end. Though the rigid, metal walls that circled in were obviously manmade, they looked untouched. However, the smell was absolutely rancid, and rotten.

The wicked scent punched your nose, immediately having you vomit out this morning’s breakfast. The acid penetrated through your already dry throat, increasing the uncomfortable burn. You heaved, spat out the remnants from your mouth, and wiped your forehead before groaning as you straightened your back from the soreness.

“Oh, damn.” If you could scream it out, you would. The dim entryway stood before you, waiting for your entrance.

“It shouldn’t be too scary, right?” You looked down on your belly. “If anything happens, promise that you’d teleport Momma back to safety, alright?”

After shaking a few jitters out of your system, you nervously entered the darkness, with your collar pinching your nose shut.

——-

You quickly pieced together why the spot you came from was an unmarked territory.

Human bones, pieces of fabric, and splatters of rotten, dried blood scattered the metal walls. And the owner of this humble abode? A curse that was a 9-foot-long purple slug. But, it was fast.

You scurried over to the other side at a maddening pace, utilizing the legs you were born with.

“Baby, Momma needs help! Please!” You pled to your stomach, hoping that they’d grant your wish. But, seeing that you’re still under the wretched place, you cursed loudly. “Fuck!”

Is this how you’re going to die? Both of your parents left the Jujutsu world at a young age and their natural-born abilities made you and your siblings capable to see things that a normal human shouldn’t. Though, your experience of seeing curses has always been mild, in comparison to this. The curse that chased after you was more wrenching to witness. 

It roared, dissipating a rumble that almost knocked you to the ground. You were raised with no technique to fend off these human-made spirits. And now, your timeline had the potential to be cut prematurely, as well as your baby’s. 

When the tunnel of light became more apparent, it boosted your tired legs to work faster. Though, you became too narrow-visioned to notice the uneven ground beneath you. On the last step before reaching the light, your right foot knocked over a large rock, causing you to plummet. With the instinct of a mother, you tilted 45 degrees, landing on your right side before getting scraped on your back. You hoped that your quick-thinking decision lessened the impact on your baby.

You groaned as the top half of your body was greeted by the bright, yellow sun. With the adrenaline coming to a screeched halt, the pounding headache returned and your body screamed from the scrapes and scratches.

“Huh- Ow!” When you tried to scurry up, your right ankle had you jolt from the twisted pain. You glanced down on it, noticing the forming bruise.

Wide-eyed, you thought you were done for. “No, no, no… Please!”

You didn’t know who to beg to: your child, a god listening, or the curse to give mercy. The heels of your palms dug on the gravel as you try and lift yourself up. However, the best option for you to move was to crawl.

The curse trailed behind you, exposing its baring, yellow teeth. You whimpered, losing hope of being saved. You thought of your family, who would deal with the unexpected pain of losing their daughter and sister earlier than planned. Your child, gone before they could take their first breath because their mother was too weak to protect them. 

And Gojo.

The man who had to deal with the immediate aftermath of your death. He would have to break the sad news to your family while going through the loss of his child- a being that would finally be his equal.

Even if you weren’t an important figure in his life, he made a fairly big impact on yours. And you didn’t even say a proper goodbye or left on good terms.

Your lips quivered as you hugged your belly, a new set of tears spilling out of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” You whispered regretfully. “Momma failed you. I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t feel their power rejuvenate your body when the anxiety amplified as it did before. Distress succumbed to your soul as a final attempt to trigger something, but nothing came through.

The curse was 10 feet away, its shadow blocking you. The horrifying fragrance perfumed your senses, but your fear of dying paralyzed the nausea. 

“Oh, shit…” You whimpered your final words as a thousand thoughts circulated your mind. The curse opened its large mouth, its blue tongue extending. An overwhelming wetness seeped through your shorts and onto the floor, creating a warm pool around you.

You had completely disregarded the fact that you’ve pissed yourself. At least no one was here to witness.

You continued to shake as the curse inched closer, closing in on you. For the final time, you closed your eyes and let out a shrilling shriek.

It roared back, lashing its weapon. However, the outcry was cut short as a red light glowered through its body. It growled in agony as it was knocked back. You opened your eyes and peered witness to the surprising flare- that came behind you, as it attacked the curse.

You couldn’t utter a word, let alone a sound. Was it your baby who protected you once more? But, you didn’t feel the overwhelming power wash over you again. Quivering, you waited for the next move.

What stunned you the most was when you heard a low growl coming from a very familiar voice behind you.

“Don’t think you can lay a scratch on her or my kid, you bastard.”

When you mustered up the courage to turn around, you faced the figure of a 6’3 tall man, with intense and glossy lips, supreme white hair, and… and-

“Holy fuck… Gojo-?” For a moment, you forgot the situation you were in. With the sun as his spotlight, a pair of the most tremendous eyes you’ve ever seen shined through the wisps of his silver hair.

The rumors were true. You thought that the glassy hues were reflected straight from the sky or even an exact replica as if Gojo took pieces of the natural blue ceiling and pinned them on his face. 

Except, they’re much more beautiful than the bluest of all skies. He’s beautiful.

His intense glare softened as he gazed down at you. In an apologetic matter, he squatted down behind you and brought an arm around your upper chest, and tugged you close to his.

“Close your eyes, Sweetheart.” His right hand reached out, and a red orb formed in his palm. Your breath refused to calm down as this left thumb twiddled on the ball of your shoulder, warm breath tickling your ear.

“I’m here, it’s okay now.”

Taglist: 

@shuxjodie @6thhokageswife @ladyalicevii @sh4nn @mamafushiguro @vesta-ro @imnotherrn @din-0-bi-wan @m00dycr4nkybitc @imtoodumbforaname @kyotorchidea @eyukkie @yochicoz @rntrsuna

repertum

plot: no matter how much you want alhaitham, you don’t think you can ever have him. he may or may not try to prove otherwise // ft. lumine and nahida 

warnings: afab!reader, 3.4 spoilers, smut but reader and alhaitham get blue balled, angst, fluff and comfort later. probably some incorrect game lore and timing/mechanics.

a/n: :)))))

-

“I don’t–” You rush out before your breath hitches. “– think this is a good idea, ah–”

Alhaitham keeps you pinned to the wall of your apartment, pelvis undulating against yours in an erratic beat. He drinks in every gasp that leaves your pretty little mouth, the same lips that have haunted his passing thoughts for the past month. His fingers dig into your waist and he leaves subcutaneous blooming sore spots on your shoulder and collarbone, relishing in your hisses of pain and pleasure, if the grip you have around his neck is any indicator.

Your words send a spike of adrenaline – he vehemently denies the possibility it may be fear instead – through his veins, to do anything to keep you right where he wants you, and he gives into the primal urge to dig his teeth into the very shoulder he’s been nibbling and sucking onto for the last ten minutes. The resulting yelp from you keeps him sated, and he places a soft kiss where he’d bitten you; a stark contrast.

Alhaitham lifts his head to look into your eyes, pupils swallowing over your irises and your eyelids half-open. He takes pride in having been able to push you towards such a state of inhibitions. “And what would make you think such a thing?” His lips ask against yours, tone dark with an alarming amount of clarity that you find absolutely unfair and unjust.

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—𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

summary: he hasn’t dreamed in a long time, but when al-haitham dreamed for the first time after the akademiya coup, he dreamed of you.

WARNINGS: archon quest akasha pulses, the kalpa flame rises spoilers! soulmate au if you squint, swearing, mentions of violence, death, injury, minor self-loathing, plot AND lore heavy, angst, fluff, not poly, happy ending!  pairing: al-haitham x fem!reader, minor kaveh x fem!reader word count: 18.1k grind

a/n: written for the lovely @zhongrin​ and her elemental supercharge collab! it was super fun to work on and really inspired me to love writing again because it was just a breath of fresh air. my entry: dendro + dendro + cryo = permafrost 

here are some important notes for this fic to help with understanding it:

tsaritsa is the former goddess of love. the goddess of flowers was a seelie. king deshret reborn was al-haitham. possibly ooc al-haitham (he’s also deaf!) i made shit up about teleport waypoints and about pretty much all the lore surrounding the three god-kings besides what i glimpsed through some books/theories/etc. i was just like fuck it we ball. 

inspo songs: who is she? - i monster, about you - the 1975, awake from a nightmare - hoyo-mix (i recommend you listen to this one especially during kaveh - chat: craftsmanship)

now on ao3 x

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