#manage constipation naturally

[self-care-tips-free]

Finding Relief: Exploring Lifestyle Changes to Manage Constipation

https://self-care-tips.com/post-details/finding-relief-exploring-lifestyle-changes-to-manage-constipation

[arthenaa]

nocturne (interlude) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: it seems as if you've always managed to bump into your father's regular in untimely situations. it also can't be helped that you think he's absolutely handsome.

content: reader is a daughter of a medic and an apothecary, golden retriever x black cat trope, might contain historically inaccurate terms (not that well versed in the edo period or japanese culture. forgive me), mizu will be referred with he/him pronouns, mizu being emotionally constipated ig, slight mention of violence and gore, fluff, pre-relationship, meet cute, sfw.

a/n: heyaaa :D its been awhile since ive posteddd. considering this as a break from comms and sch!! ill try to be more active in posting as my xmas break is approaching hehe <33 current hyperfixation is mizu from blue eyed samurai. (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT !!!) enjoyy part 2!! (my love mine all mine)

You can still remember the first time you met him.

It was quite easy to recall the memory with ease. It was after all one of the nights where there weren't many customers fluttering about to avail your father's services in medicine due to idiotic accidents and miscalculated duels. You watched your father pull out herb after herb, vial after vial, stitch after stitch as more and more swordsmen of all ranks came in and out of the shop.

You were quite well-known around town as the daughter of the medic—often smiling and huffing about. Some say you were too naive to be comfortable and accommodating to your father's customers but others also claim you were elegant and a ray of sunshine due to your approachable and easygoing nature. None of that mattered anyway, not when the field of medicine was your only focus in life.

Your father doesn't like to call you his apprentice but you knew you were his. After all, with all the knowledge he's passed down unto you, you might as well run your own apothecary but alas, you still had much to learn.

It was also a quiet agreement among men that no one pays too much attention to the daughter of the skilled medic and apothecary. You suppose it's because of your father's standing and reputation that most men would rather cut off their arms than get on the bad side of one of the only medics who can actually do a decent job in life-threatening situations.

Which brings us to the current topic at hand.

It had been a cold winter that night. Your father had been busy making fresh medicine at the behest of a high lord in one of the rich provincial states up north. It was up to you to man the front and be alert in case any wanderers might walk in asking for help.

The harsh breeze of that winter night was your first cue. The doors had swung open which left you scrambling off your seat then a second later, a man with a lean stature stumbles his way through—arm clutching the side of his stomach.

Your breath hitches as he props himself against the wooden pillar. He looks up at you, blue eyes clear and intense that it left you speechless from where you stood.

"I-I," He gasps for air, eyebrows scrunching from the pain. "Help-I need—"

You wasted no time in aiding him as you took wide strides to his injured form, arms holding out to keep him steady as he began to wobble back and forth. You scream for your father, worried that the man before you would pass out at any moment.

Thankfully aware of the situation, your father prepares the receiving area. You look back at the injured patient with worry in your eyes as you further assess all sorts of damage on his figure.

However, you can't help but find yourself entranced by his clear blue eyes. Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he has managed to keep himself awake perched up on your shoulder.

He locks eyes with you, blinking slowly, and just as you begin to get lost in those blue hues of his, his body begins to fall.

"Sir, wait—!"

Then he's out like a light.

The next time you met him had been purely coincidental.

After that night, the man left quietly like the leaves falling gently along the stream. He left quite a hefty sum of money on your father's desk and kept the bed clean at his departure. It's safe to say that your father was overjoyed by the payment.

Your father had sent you on an errand to town to gather some supplies from a supplier he trusts. He had been busy attending to patients and manning the counter to be the one to get the package himself.

"You have nothing better to do anyway, might as well be useful to your old dad," Your father scrunched his nose playfully as he placed a bag of money on your palms. "And if a man approaches you, remember to use that knife I gave you and make clean perforation at the jugular vein—"

You had stopped your father right there.

It didn't bother you that much and this also was an opportunity to get some leisure time. You did as you were told and saved a bit of money for window shopping.

Stumbling upon an artisan selling hair ornaments, your eyes immediately dart toward a golden hairpin with imitations of sakura leaves. Upon reaching out to inspect it, a hand collides with your own causing you to let out a gasp.

"Apologies—" Your eyes dart up to look at the stranger but is met instead with familiar blue eyes, this time under the disguise of orange tint sunglasses. "Oh! It's you."

The man furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you Mr. Gojo's—?"

"Daughter?" You perk up with a smile. You shift from heel to heel at the intensity of his gaze. Somehow, you're feeling quite nervous with this gentleman. "Yeah. I caught you that night."

"Ah," The man nods, awkward in his stance before turning back toward the array of ornaments in front of him. "Thank you."

"I-It was no problem," You stammered, hands smoothing out the fabric of your kimono. "It's what we do after all."

There's a hum of response coming from the man before silence ensues between the two of you. He had gotten back to analyzing other items that the vendor was offering and you could only stand there, discreetly watching his every move.

You didn't have the opportunity to take a good look at him besides his eyes that night. Your father seemed like he had recognized the man before you and ushered you out of the room before you could have the chance to offer help. Though, now, you could see that he had a proportionate height—a few inches taller than you but still tall nonetheless. His shoulders evoke confidence with every move of his body but his face talks of the mystery hidden under the guise of his kasa. He was pretty, yet... handsome. You've never come across a man who could embody both sides of the spectrum.

"Do you need something?" His voice had startled you out of your daydream causing your cheeks to flush. He raises his eyebrow with his ever-perpetual glare. You give him a sheepish smile.

"I've never gotten your name, sir." You purse your lips, tilting your head as he squints his eyes at your request.

"My name? Why?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at his response. Why? What does he mean why? This man was truly cynical, you think.

"Well, I saved you, didn't I?"

"Correction. Your father did." The man deadpans. You giggle at his tone, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Alright, no need to get so philosophical with me," You jest, trying to get him to lighten up to you. You take a step closer, trying to gauge his expressions as you give him a lighthearted smile. "Is getting to know people a crime now?"

The man sighs before looking at the array of hair ornaments to your right. He then grabs the hairpin you were looking at and tosses a bag of coins toward the vendor. He places it within your palms before adjusting his cloak. You flinch at the sudden gesture, unaware of his intentions.

"It's Mizu." He says before turning and leaving without further explanation. You stand, agape as the man further blends in with crowd with each step he takes away from you.

This man—No, Mizu, surely is interesting.

This next meeting was one you were thankful of.

Now, it wasn't as if your meetings were solely limited by chance. He became a regular after your father's incredible work on him. You watch him arrive usually at the end of every week, either looking to restock the medicine that your father gave him or get himself treated for an unwanted injury.

You tried interacting with him during his visits but Mizu always either cut the conversation short or grunted in annoyance. He never tried to entertain much of your whims and only left you grasping at straws for whatever possible chance of interaction he might give you.

Although, despite being cold towards you, he still has the heart to help you in mundane tasks whenever he encounters the chance. For instance, upon seeing you struggling with the basin, he immediately walked over and carried to where your father is with ease. He also grabbed your freshly bought basket of fruits and guarded you on your way back home. He even thumped the back of your head lightly with his hand on his way out while you were fixing up the front.

He was an enigma. A puzzle you desperately tried to solve but always failed.

The thought of his gentlemanly actions had always left your heart thumping faster and louder within the confines of your chest. Wanting to know him, get closer to him, see the corners of his lips upturned—anything to see a version of him only you can keep.

It also seems that your father is familiar with his master. You hear talks between them, asking about the well-being of a man named 'Master Eiji', the one whom Mizu calls his swordfather. You ought to know better than to eavesdrop but somehow your attention has always been led towards his very existence.

Your father had always been strict about you ever since you were but a wee girl. He had expressed the importance of having a fruitful marriage with someone who is of your deserving. He, after all, was in a true love marriage with your mother and was together for at least 25 years before your mother succumbed to her illness at the age of 45.

It also didn't help that you were deemed the sunlight of the town, often getting several interested looks from promising men. But all your suitors couldn't take the intensity of your father's expectations. It's safe to say that you won't be getting married for awhile.

"Just stay here, my daughter," Your father sighs as he serves you seconds of your favorite food. "Who the hell cares about marriage anyway."

You laugh, reaching out to pat your old man's hand. "It's going to look bad for you if you don't marry off your one and only daughter, y'know?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to do any of that," Your father grumbles, taking a sip of his soup. "Work here, eat, sleep, go have fun. That's what your mother would've wanted anyway."

You were grateful for your circumstances, yes, but you've always wanted to help out as much as you can for your dad. His reputation as a skilled medic can only take so much before others will come to expect more. So as long as you're in his care, you try to help out around his shop as much as you can.

Although you wonder if your father would allow him to—

Ah, forget it. Convincing your father was a lost cause.

Back to the current task at hand, your father had tasked you to gather some herbs from the forest near your humble abode as it is less taxing for your finances when you have easy access to one nearby. Gearing up for the coldness of winter, you stepped out of your house in pursuit of such herbs. With a hop on your step, you wish to finish your task sooner than later to prepare for a certain gentleman possibly visiting later at night.

The only you thing you didn't account for was the possible danger you'd be encountering.

"Listen, I-I don't want any trouble," You slowly backed away as a group of men began surrounding you. It was uncommon to encounter bandits around this area as this was situated near the town. You're not so sure as to what prompted this criminals to stage a robbery in broad daylight.

"Oh, c'mon little miss," One of the bandits chuckled. He twirled a knife in his hand as he approached you menacingly. "We just wanna know what you're up to."

Your breath speeds up as one of his companions playfully advanced with a jump in his step. You flinched back, heartbeat thumping as the crunch of leaves around you signified their slow advance towards your figure. You clutched the knife your father gave you within your hands, ready to use it in case one of them tries something.

Jugular vein. Neck. Neck. Vein. Keep it fast. Right side.

"Perhaps we could do something fun, darling? I'm sure you'd love it." Wide grins and loud laughter erupted from their lips.

Vein. Lethal point. Could head straight through the liver. Artery. Perforation.

Your head had begun to ramble, your father's words echoing within the depths of your mind. Just as you adjusted your grip on your knife and one of the bandits had began to finally get whatever they aimed for in the first place, a breeze of wind suddenly alerted you of a new presence.

You shut your eyes in fear as one of the men at the far back screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The leader bellowed as he watched his man crumple to the ground, holding what was left of his dismembered arm. The other bandits begin turning towards the new opponent, swords ready as they watched him step over their comrade.

You open your teary eyes, locking gazes with the familiar hues of blue hidden under orange tint. There's some sort of hardened glare as Mizu looked at you up and down, assessing your well-being within a matter of seconds.

"This is Takayama's jurisdiction," Mizu's deep voice bellowed as he placed his hand on the scabbard of his sword. "I suggest you leave."

The leader lets out a scoff as he widens his shoulders to appear more menacing to him. Mizu only looks at him under the guise of his kasa.

"You are outnumbered, samurai," The man smirks. It might've been intimidating with the number of men that surrounded Mizu but you were well aware of his prowess as a swordsman and completely had faith in his abilities. "Your talks of dominance do not affect me."

Mizu chuckles, one hand reaching up to push back his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We'll see about that."

"Thank you," You smile widely, eyes crinkling as you grab his extended hand.

The bandits groaned in pain as they crumbled to the ground. Some have even passed out from the harsh hits that Mizu had inflicted. You watched him twirl and move with elegance, slicing and hitting with precise angles that left you in awe at his performance.

It took at most 15 minutes for him to finish all of them and another 3 minutes for you to pick your jaw off the floor and fix yourself up.

"It's no problem," Mizu nods at your gratitude. He holds your hand firm as you wobble back and forth to stay back in balance. "Although, I advise that you venture towards areas within the town vicinity. This area is bordering outside of Takayama, thus the bandits."

"Ah," You let out a soft laugh. "There were more herbs here. I thought it was safe."

Mizu doesn't reply back as he gazes at you from the comforts of his glasses. You flush at his stare, still not being able to handle its intensity. You look down to busy yourself with, staring at your conjoined hands before finally taking notice of a scratch on the side of his hand to his wrist.

"You're injured," You whispered as you pulled his hand close to yours. You hear Mizu's breath hitch as he stumbles slightly at the pull of your hand. You look up at him as he furrows his eyebrows.

"I-It's fine, it doesn't hurt." He tries to reason with you but your grip on his hand remains steady.

"You saved me so I'll repay you by treating this. Alright?" You give him your best smile and suddenly the samurai doesn't have the heart in him to say no. At the sound of his reluctant silence, you enthusiastically pull out your satchel filled with medicinal tools. It was handy that you always kept your tools with you no matter where you went.

You applied antiseptic, brushing it with a clean cloth along the wound. Whether Mizu felt the pain or not, he only remained as still as a rock while you worked.

"You're early today," You try to make conversation as you clean his wound up. Mizu stays silent for a few seconds before replying.

"I had free time," He says. "I... was also out of medicine so..."

You hum, nodding along his words as you make gentle strokes to ease the pain (if he ever felt it).

"If you ever need to go out like this again," He picks up the conversation making your heart skip a beat. There's a pause of silence before he continues. "Let me—If I'm there, let me know. You don't need to endanger yourself like this."

You let out a quiet laugh as you finally wrapped his wound with a white strip of cloth. You look at him with softened eyes, reveling in his slightly flushed cheeks and gaze dulled by sincerity. There's a pause of comfortable silence between the two of you, only lost in each other's gazes.

You slowly reach out, hands pausing as you communicate a request for consent. Mizu only gives you a small nod before you reach out to pull off his glasses. Those same beautiful blue orbs stare back at you as you revel in their gaze.

"You're more handsome like this," You whisper as you take a step closer to him. Snow gently falls around you, cascading in gentle flow as you breathe out puffs of air. Mizu tilts his head with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

There it is.

You flush in his gaze as he reaches up to brush a stray hair away from your face. "You're jesting," He says with a quiet tone.

Your gaze at him doesn't waver. "I'd say yes if you asked me to marry you."

Mizu let's out a chuckle, eyebrow raised at your bold response. "You are one dangerous lady, Y/N. Does your father know that?"

You roll your eyes at him. "How could he know when all he does is keep men away from me," You tilt your head playfully, "Although, I do wonder why he often keeps you close. Perhaps, he's found you to be worthy of a man."

Mizu laughs at your praises, shoulders shaking as the two of you stand close to one another, basking in the soft breeze of the winter sky. He lifts his hand up and flicks your forehead. You flinch back, holding your forehead in pain as you give him a glare.

"Ow?!" You frown as he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. "What a way to turn off a lady!"

"You're too adorable to be a lady," Mizu teases as he crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head as he looks at you with squinted eyes in thought. "Kind of like a.... puppy."

Your jaw drops at his comparison causing him to release a few chuckles. It wasn't fair that he was out here causing poor things to your heart and raised by a father who was direct and determined to achieve the things he wanted in life, you didn't allow yourself to back down.

With wide strides, you easily reach where he stands before standing on your toes and grabbing his face as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-?!" His face flushes a deep red as he moves back holding his cheek. You flash him a cheeky grin as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I'll be waiting for your proposal, Mizu," You giggle, swaying back and forth with your hands tucked behind you. You put on his glasses before leaning slightly forward with eyes squinted playfully. "Or shall I be the one to propose, hm? Seeing as your blushing from just a kiss on the cheek."

Mizu takes a few seconds before collecting himself. There's an unreadable look on his face before makes careful steps towards you. You watch him, curious as he stops in front of you—hand reaching out to pull his glasses off from your face. You expect him to start berating you for invading his space but what you received after was certainly something you never took into account.

He leans down and gingerly places a kiss on your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses himself close before pulling away all to fast. Your lips tingle as you watch him put on his glasses back with a smile.

"I'm no coward, Y/N," He adjusts your cloak as you remain speechless in front of him. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

And just as he enters, he walks off with quiet footsteps, leaving you grasping at whatever was left of your brain after what he just did. Your face flushes a deep red as your fingertips touches your lips with shaky movements.

Did this man just—

"Are you coming?!" He calls over from the dirt path back to your house. You stumble in your footing as you rush over to him.

"I-I'm coming!" You stammer as you gather your things and rushed towards him. He greets you with a smile and this time with his glasses tucked away. Blue hues greet your flushed form and suddenly an overwhelming realization washes over you.

Oh, I'm definitely not going to let this man go.

a/n: MY WIFE MIZU MY WIFEEE,,,,, planning to make a pt2 idk lemme guys know if u want one. will also fix my archive, tumblr's getting messy. NOT PROOFREAD but will fix if ever i do go back on this after my finals. HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!

[leviiheichou]

Levi Ackerman will always treat you with respect and love.

He is the man that will never raise his voice at you, no matter how much he is stressed or depressed. No matter how upset he is with you, he will always try to communicate with you.

If he's wrong, he may not be able to apologise (because let's face it, he finds it the most difficult task in the world, not only for you, but he finds it difficult to apologise to anyone) he will try to bribe you with your favourite food or something that you wanted, and suddenly after days of cold shoulder and silent treatment, you'll find it on the drawer next to your bed.

Private space. Sometimes when you feel like you need some space, he'll let you be. He respects you, and he respects your space. He knows that sometimes, it is very important to give space, to allow you to process your own emotions. It's like you're in a cave where you've isolated yourself. He'll not leave you alone because he'll always be there outside the cave. Once you're ready to be out of that place, he'll be more than happy. But sometimes, if it gets too dark, and the cave becomes a place of not happy solitude but of angst and depression, he'll not refrain himself from holding his hand to you. He's always there, and that's what matters. He'll give you space, but at the same time he'll always have your back.

If you both had a fight, he'll never be able to go to bed if you didn't make up. Even if you guys ignore each other for days, at night he'll still manage to make you snuggle with him and have tea while reading books. Quality time is never compromised. He loves you, and he respects you, and he means it when he will not let you sleep if you're both angry at each other. Suppose you fell asleep, he'll keep poking your back, and keep tch-tching until you wake up annoyed and ask him what's the matter. The latter always ends up in long cuddle sessions.

Another reason he can't stay angry with you long is because if he does, he gets constipated. And then he's all grumpy, a dark cloud over the survey corps. You must make up with him at least for the sake of the corps.

He'll get jealous sometimes and it's natural. It's his love that shows. He respects you so much that he cannot bear to see guys stare at you with that malicious gaze. You may find a few eyeballs snatched, and a few ribs broken, courtesy of humanity's strongest and your dearest husband.

He respects you, and therefore YOU ARE HIS EQUAL. HIS BETTER HALF.

And so, when you're away for a long, long time, you'll find him miserable. You're a part of him, and he's a part of you. Eve was created out of Adam's rib, and in that sense, you're of him, and he's of you, and he cannot think of anything but you, in your absence. It's taking a part of him away.

He sees you as his equal, and he shall never do something to you, that he does not want for him, or for anyone else. He's loyal. That goes without saying, and he's not going to hurt, because he respects you too much to do that. He trusts you, and that shows. He's not possessive, but he'll not stop himself from kicking butts and breaking bones of those who hurt you (or try to flirt with you, even if they know that you're his darling wife) .

He respects you, and with that he'll also teach you to respect yourself. The way you treat yourself, is how others treat you.

But for Levi Ackerman, he takes it as his duty love you, to cherish and to respect you.

[tiredfox64]

Bi-han x confessing to a person who's been making ice puns at him since day 1 (+ him asking his brothers for guidance on doing so). He's so embarrassed to be in love with anyone and even more embarrassed that it's THEM, the lame pun guy/girl. Tomas and Kuai are literally howling with laughter at this whole situation. Their emotionally constipated brother and the person that thinks “underwhere/underwear” wordplay jokes are clever. The added dimension of hilarity added to Bi-han openly cringing at their jokes by the fact that Bihan wants to marry this person sends his brothers into borderline hysterics laughing everytime. Everytime they greet him with “*ICE* to see you again! :D ” it pushes bihans eventual confession back 2 days.

Love at Frost Sight

Yip notes: Yeah but this is the man who said "Freeze where you stand" before throwing ice. He has the tiniest funny bone in his body.

Pairing: Bi-Han x Gn reader

Warnings‼️: Bad puns, not proofread I’m tired (fixed it a little cause I can’t sleep)

You made an impression the first day you joined the Lin Kuei. You were a skilled fighter who had the potential to be greater, even Bi-Han could see that. He needs people like you. Naturally skilled with a boost to perfection. You acted like the perfect candidate…

Until he allowed you in.

It was like shaking a poor sinner’s hand. Bi-Han had no clue what was about to hit him. Your true nature was exposed the moment he gave you your uniform as a sign that you were part of the clan.

“ICY that you like me.” You joked.

His eyes immediately widened in confusion, “…what?”

“Nothing. I’ll start getting ready. I’ll see you later.” You walked off quickly to put your uniform on and start your new beginning.

Poor Bi-Han, he sure will have a hail of a time.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Bi-Han learned quickly that you were quite the jester. You made every serious situation into a comedy skit.

You know how hard it is for the others to keep a straight face when they are being lectured and you decide to tell Bi-Han to “chill out”. The once quiet room that echoed your grandmaster’s voice was now disturbed by sharp exhales and snorts. It didn’t help that he’d go silent and everyone would try to figure out if he was mad or you actually made him shut the fuck up. The answer was there were so many thoughts running through his mind that if he tried to speak he would stutter.

You always have an ice joke ready for him. In every situation, you’ve managed to put anything ice into your sentence. If it’s not ice it’s cool, icy, or hail. How do you fit all those jokes into your head while focusing on your training? It’s almost mystical.

So why, WHY he screams. Why does he have feelings towards you? You’re so lame but he wants you. Heavens help him, he’s fallen in love with a loser.

The worst part is that his brothers are starting to catch on. They can see that Bi-Han is different now. He’s frustrated with his emotions. They’d hear him grumble to himself even when things were going well. He’d whisper under his breath about something being so idiotic and foolish. Not to mention he was daydreaming more. Blank stares, fist clenching, slow blinks, and cringing. Yes, cringing. He’d take a deep breath, give a little ‘eh’, and walk off. It’s clearly not serious if he’s acting like that.

Kuai Liang and Tomas discussed how they were gonna approach the situation. Clearly, Bi-Han doesn’t want to talk about his feelings. He never does. But this is different. He is reacting to something he has never felt before. That’s why he’s acting out.

Out of all the emotions they ran through they would have never guessed it was love. Bi-Han is supposed to be too cold for love. So when Bi-Han came to them in a tense mood they were shocked by his question.

“Kuai Liang, I know you have experience with…infatuation of a person.”

“I have never-“

“Do not play dumb we all know you like Harumi ever since you were a child.”

Kuai Liang put his head down slightly after being called out like that. Tomas was already thinking a million things. He caught onto what Bi-Han was going to ask. He slammed his hands down and blurted out a question.

“Who is it?!”

Bi-Han glared at his adopted brother for asking the obvious. He wanted to deny that he was interested in anyone, let alone you. But he came to them for a reason. He has no idea how to portray his feelings. He’s been stuck being this uptight, serious, cold-hearted person for a long time. You introduce a warm and tingly feeling and he doesn’t melt, he crumples like an iceberg. So if he wants a genuine he has to be honest and tell them who it is.

“The person is the one who gives me the most headaches.” He said quietly.

The reaction he got did not ease his awkwardness and embarrassment. Kuai Liang and Tomas were looking at him like he had grown a tail. Their eyes shifted as they tried to calculate the right words to say.

“Interesting…” Kuai Liang said in the most enthusiastic voice he could produce.

“Wow, I mean you two sure would make a lovely-“Tomas stopped himself when he snorted and had to cover his mouth.

Bi-Han immediately turned his back on his brothers and tried to walk out. Kuai Liang jumped out of his seat to catch his brother and let him know there was no shame in falling in love.

“Please, brother, we do not mean to offend you. We are simply surprised that it’s them.”

“Please, please, it’s fine.” Tomas was responding in a higher pitch as he tried his hardest to contain himself.

Kuai Liang was staring down Tomas and was mouthing to him to stop already. This is a moment in history, Bi-Han is in love! He’s in love with a person they would never expect. Tomas immediately contained himself and suppressed any giddiness he was feeling.

“Bi-Han, there is nothing wrong with your feelings. It would help if you sit down with us and tell us why you might like them.” Kuai Liang advised him.

“That is the problem. I have no reason to like them when they tell those horrible jokes.” Bi-Han’s anger was boiling up just thinking about his silly crush.

“Maybe you haven’t thought about it enough. You should take time to think about it and not be confused all the time.” Tomas genuinely wanted to help his brother figure this out. He even pulled out a chair for Bi-Han to sit in.

This feels more like an intervention than what Bi-Han originally came here for. He might as well put in the effort to figure it out. He hates leaving this a mystery even when it comes to emotions. Fine, he’ll bite, but they can’t laugh.

Tomas, hold it together for your own sake.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

It may have taken 3 hours but they got a coherent answer from Bi-Han. His reasons are, well, reasonable.

As mentioned before you are a skilled fighter who has a lot of potential. You are graceful in your movements both in kombat and in general.

It’s not all jokes and lollygagging with you. You can sit down and have a heart-to-heart conversation with someone. You could take things serious, you choose not to unless it’s life or death. Even when you get a little silly it’s cute. The joy on your face when you make people laugh or smile can melt your grandmaster’s frozen heart. Not fully, don’t toot your horn.

It’s the jokes that kill him. The puns, fucking hail, they are so corny and cheesy. They are always directed towards him. A pile of ice puns just waiting to be thrown at him. That’s why he’s so embarrassed that it’s you. You have great qualities but puns are not your forte in his mind.

According to his brothers he shouldn’t change that about you. It’s your charm. It’s also the reason he noticed you more. So could he really say it’s a bad quality when it brought him closer to you?

“So you do want them to be your partner?” Tomas reiterated.

“Yes, yes, for the thousandth time. Are you imbeciles going to help me or not?”

“We will help. The real question is if you can confess. It seems like their jokes knock you off balance.” Kuai Liang had this smug tone to his voice because he knows what he speaks in the truth.

That struck a nerve. Bi-Han feels like he’s being called a chicken. If Kuai Liang were not his younger brother he’d be dead by dinner time.

Bi-Han’s hands clenched into fist that slowly turned to ice. He has to keep his calm to prove he can confess to someone like a normal human being.

“Tell me, tell me how to confess someone. I will do it today.”

“It is simple, brother. Just tell them what we discussed. Tell them about the qualities that you like about them and ask them to be your partner. It should not be hard for you.” Because who in their right mind would deny their grandmaster. That’s a death wish.

With that answer Bi-Han was already out the door, trying to find you. Ten seconds later he returned.

“I will do it tomorrow.” He said as he gritted his teeth.

Tomas’ jaw dropped as Kuai Liang rolled his eyes.

“Why did you change your mind?” He sounded so exhausted.

Bi-Han didn’t have to say anything. He just flung the door open and there you were with a shit-eating grin. You looked so giddy as you bit your bottom lip and looked up at Bi-Han. Anyone could see the sparkle in your eyes.

Bi-Han signaled for you to repeat what you just said to him. He needs his brothers to hear the shit he deals with every day.

“I was just saying how it was ICE to see him again!” Look at that proud smile on your face.

Tomas immediately let out a laugh before covering his mouth. He did not mean for it to be that loud but his mouth was already open. It was a chain reaction because Kuai Liang struggled to keep a straight face. He lowered his head and used his hands as a visor to prevent anyone from seeing his lips twitch. His heavy breathing gave away the fact that he was close to laughing. Bi-Han…he’s not entertaining. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and grimaced as the pun replayed in his head over and over again. It’s nothing new but it makes him react the same way every day you tell it to him.

“Aw, don’t be so COLD with me, grandmaster.”

Kuai Liang smacked the table as a plead for mercy. Don’t make another joke he might combust. Tomas could only produce a wheeze in his effort to stop a laugh. The best part, they were imagining the same things which didn’t help their laughter.

Picture this:

It’s you and Bi-Han’s wedding. It’s a beautiful winter wedding and you are ready to marry the man of your dream who was once your grandmaster. You both stand before the Lin Kuei and the ceremony goes on. You are both asked if you take each other’s hand in marriage. What is your response.

“Uh duh, I’m head over HAILS for him.”

The mind can create such funny things even from men who are assassins.

Yeah, no, Bi-Han can’t do this today. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you the other way. He ignored how you were raising your eyebrows continuously as a weird way of asking if he gets it. He pushed your back lightly and that was your sign to walk away. He does that often you know what he means. He closed the door and looked back at his brothers who looked like they were hanging on for dear life.

“As I said, tomorrow.” He emphasized.

They nodded their heads as they understood their brother’s reason. Tomorrow…yeah right.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomorrow came and passed. Then another passed. Then another. Another. Ah, he didn’t confess. But Kuai Liang and Tomas were sure having a hoot.

Their poor brother, why must you throw a pun at him just because he is a cyromancer?! He just wants to admit that he is in love with your lame ass. Every day when he gets the motivation to confess to you, you make another joke. He has a moment of clarity and walks away. In the morning that man is in need of you.

Do you realize the effect you have on that man? He can’t live without you or your pun. There was one day where you didn’t feel too well. You had a major headache that prevented you from thinking straight. When you saw Bi-Han and didn’t say anything he wanted to clutch his nonexistent pearls. He actually ask you if you were dying. You reassured him that it was just a headache and you’d be fine soon. Yeah, he knew you were fine when you told him “Boy, that sure was a HAIL of a headache.”

You’re gonna give me a headache. Please, have mercy.

Maybe today will be different. He’ll tire you out and catch you off guard to prevent you from saying anything. It doesn’t matter at this point he just needs to get this off his chest without walking out of the room. He went around, looking for you to bring you somewhere more private. You were just coming around the corner when you saw Bi-Han. Gosh, you were like a devious fly the way you rubbed your hands in preparation for your pun.

“Hello grandmaster! It’s ic-“

“No.” He replied bluntly as he covered your mouth.

You were actually shocked since this was the first time he’s tried to stop you. It was successful, all he needed to do was cover your mouth. He was quick to redirect you to one of the training rooms. Yes, his genius plan is to tire you out by fighting. Can’t speak when you’re too busy trying not to get your ass beat.

To his dismay his brothers were in the room. He wanted to tell them to leave but any sentence he constructs will give fuel to the pun flame. He grumbled before pushing you in.

“Today, I want us to spar. I need to see how you’ve improved.” He removed his hand from your mouth and distance himself from you.

He went into his usual fighting stance and was hoping on a star that you would follow along. His brothers were watching you both. They were watching like hawks. For once, you didn’t say anything. You got into your fighting stance, making sure you were properly balanced. But…

“Before we start I just have to say…”

Oh, oh no

“That you’re gonna need to take it ICE and easy. I fell yesterday and it hurt like HAIL. The way ICY it, it would be unfair to fight me at full force when I’m injured.”

…

…

…

“You ready for some more COOL puns?”

That’s a new face Bi-Han was making. He was wincing as if your puns physically hurt him. It hurt his soul. His eyes narrowed. His arms dropped. Today’s not the day. Tomorrow won’t be the day. This week won’t be the week. He needs to recover from all of that.

“Why do I like you?” He questioned out loud.

That was the breaking point for Kuai Liang and Tomas. They haven’t laughed like that since they were children. Tomas was on his hands and knees, dying of laughter. He sounded like a hyena. Kuai Liang was clutching his stomach. His body is not used to laugher so it’s a mixture of joy and pain. He was going in between laughter and coughing. He really wanted to support his brother, he did, but Bi-Han’s reaction was too good.

The tips of Bi-Han’s ears started to burn and turn a shade of pink. That color traveled to his cheeks. This was too embarrassing, especially because he knew you heard what he said. He had to walk away from this failure.

What did you do? Well you clearly joked around since you thought that would make him feel better.

“Wait FREEZE don’t go! Did you mean that?! We can make it work! I’ll fight tooth and HAIL to make this work between us! ICY that you like me a lot! It’s as clear as ice.”

“THAT IS ENOUGH FOR TODAY!”

Bi-Han’s words bounced off the hallway walls before he walked to his bedroom and slammed the door. All the clan members looked around to see what all that ruckus was about. All they found was you with a dopey smile on your face, Tomas cackling, and Kuai Liang coughing up a storm.

Well, I hope you are happy. You just drove your future husband crazy. I don’t know why he’s so mad. He should let loose and enjoy the ICE of life.

Yap notes: Sorry if the second half is a little messy, I don’t have my laptop with me. So I went swimming for a bit that was nice. I went into the 10 feet end like a dumbass but it was nice. Now I must rest and forget about my life. Adiós!

[moodymisty]

I’ve wanted to ask this for a while and I’m glad I can finally ask. It not exactly a request, but I’m sure it still counts as a head canon ask

So in to regards to the original 20 legions, how would you rank having a harem of space marines from that legion

It’s no contest that Salamanders are pretty high on the list, and it’s safe to say that the Iron Hands are at the bottom of the list, just to give an example

I was just curious to know your opinion on where you would ranks the other legions and where they would fall on a hypothetical list

Author's note: I love this XD this ask was so much fun to think about let me have my astartes harem

Warnings: You have multiple space marine husbands i don't know what that qualifies as i just figured it would be a worthwhile warning

Dark Angels: How'd you even get a group of them together without killing eachother? Impressive.

Ultramarines: A good harem of space marines to have. Organized too, there may or may not be a spreadsheet of wife time that exists but they firmly deny it.

Alpha Legion: Sneaky harem, each of them likes to sneak into your room and try and have time with you alone, only to get busted by the others also doing the same thing.

Iron Warriors: Don't.

Luna Wolves/Sons of Horus: Not a bad choice, though if there's going to be a harem happening in his legion, it's probably going to be Horus, his wife, and his Mournival just being real here. He's not allowing shit like that to happen without his presence.

World Eaters: Don't. Don't put multiple of these guys in the same room it isn't going to end well. They're like bettas.

Word Bearers: They really go hard on the worshipping thing. You are their princess and it's cute at first, but they get very overbearing. At least they don't fight with eachother much.

Blood Angels: They are some of the best, the only major downside is all of them have an appetite, so there's probably not going to be many times where you aren't somewhat woozy.

Iron Hands: Terrible, but mostly because their aloof and stoic nature isn't as cute as Imperial fists.

Emperor's Children: They are all super dedicated and love showering you in gifts. Don't think too hard about where they came from.

Imperial Fists: You have the most emotionally constipated men ever. They are incredibly protective and you have never felt safer, but they also have the emotive potential of a piece of sheet metal.

Space Wolves: The most chaotic bunch of husbands ever. They are always fighting with eachother, mostly joking but it sometimes gets serious, and most of the time it isn't even about you. Are terrible at sharing, and someones lost a finger because of a brawl over wife rights.

Death Guard: Your stinky, stinky husbands are terrible. They really like bringing you flowers though.

Thousand Sons: They all argue with each other nonstop which is annoying, but every now and again they'll work together and you'll have the best, warp fuckery filled night of your life.

Salamanders: As you would've expected, you've won the lottery. You have some of the best astartes in the galaxy who are quite happy to have you as well. They all know how to share, and don't try and kill eachother which given previous legions is a definite plus.

Raven Guard: They're pretty calm by the standards of others on this list, so not the worst. It can get a bit annoying to manage each of their depressive pouting fits though.

Night Lords: DON'T? As fun as it might seem to be a barracks bunny for a group of chunky Night Lords, this is a terrible idea. There's a non 0% chance you'll end up as a snack, and not the fun kind.

White Scars: Probably the best harem to be honest, given they probably have actual harems on Chogoris so the whole thing is familiar. Each are equally proud of their wife and it's really cute.

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hey girl! Since you write 2 of my fave genres and saw your're accepting requests I hope that maybe this message reaches you and you will give my idea a try. It is of course some angst to fluff with Gojo x reader. Both in their 20s (let's say JJK0), reader is pretty new to the Jujutsu world but just as strong as Satoru, super funny and sarcastic but very chill (so a bit his opposite if you will). Shoko, being close with the reader notices that she has feelings for Gojo and she doesn't confess because of fear of rejection. Things get worse when reader *thinks* she sees him flirting and tries distancing herself and wallow a bit. So maybe at the end either something happens and Gojo confesses (in his own emotionally constipated way) ooorrr Shoko *helps* out a bit by having a talk with good 'ol Gojo (or both *wink*). Either way, you take this idea, turn it, twist it, do whatever your magical talented self wants with it and you have all the love from me (you have it nevertheless ^^). Thank youu

Misunderstandings Can Often Be Helpful {Gojo Satoru}

A/n: thank you for requesting, I hope you like it

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Trigger Warnings: none

Everyone who knew Gojo in a relatively more personal level could see it. Geto leaving hurt him. His wounds were still fresh and bleeding but he was now the strongest. Alone. The word didn't even feel right, refering to himself as the strongest when he had been so used to saying "we" since Geto was supposed to be always there with him. His best friend. His one and only.

But life went on and soon a new student was announced. With the only exception that you were no regular student. After the arrival of Yuta in Jujutsu Tech, Gojo had naturally expected you to be more around the first years age. The shock on his face when he learnt that you were just a few years younger than him would forever remain imprinted on your meomory... and on paper since Shoko managed to take a picture of him.

When the principal told him about you, Gojo expected to see someone with no abilities whatsoever. He knew of course that you were almost on the same level as him power-wise and from Yaga's sayings, you had no idea how to control your powers. It went without saying that he had been assigned to be your teacher since he not only was the only one who overpowered you but because he was the only one knowledgeable enough to help you understand and control your powers. That was what he told Shoko anyways.

What he didn't expect however was to get his ass kicked both physically and mentally. And all that on your first day there as well.

"Whoah, were are you going?" He quickly stood up, stretching his back. The last kick you had given him behind the knees had been enough to make him realise that turning off his limitless was a wrong decision.

"To get some water, I assumed we were taking a break? You seemed really friendly with the floor." You opened the door, ready to walk out.

"Do you usually assume a lot of things?"

"It appears as such. I assumed you were stronger in physical combat."

Now that was a hit below the belt. Apart from Geto and occasionally Shoko, no one ever had the balls to call him... weak. Gojo Satoru wasn't weak. He was the strongest!

"Damn that would have looked great on camera..." Shoko shrugged, blowing out the smoke from her cigarette.

"Are you kidding me? I don't even have time to respond! It's one sarcastic comment after another!" Gojo chuckled before shouting a 'time out' for the first years.

After that day, Shoko took a great liking in you, mostly because Gojo seemed to be getting gradually better emotionally. In fact, she went to properly meet you the very next day. And the rest was history.

You and Gojo were the only reasons why she would stay up late in her office, waiting for your training session to end, just so she can catch up with all the latest gossip brought by none other than the new strongest duo.

But Shoko was no fool. Be it after training sessions, after missions or even after some casual nights out with the two of you, she had quickly picked up on the way you looked at Gojo. It wasn't really admiration. Hanging out with his annoying ass had brought your ego to the same level as his. It wasn't the expected teacher-student dynamic either. That had long been gone after you managed to give him a black eye (accidentally obviously) during your early days of training.

It was something else, something she could say was a developing crush on the world's most annoying human being. But it was fun seeing it. Gojo knew your favourite drink by heart and would order it for you before you could even open your mouth. You would slightly blush when he would pass it on to you after the waiter mistaking it for his order. On extremely rare occasions she would catch your apologetic expression as you brought him to her office after landing him a hit that wasn't supposed to hurt him at all. Not to mention how she would notice you looking at him during your breaks. Yes, that was what sealed the deal for her.

The only problem was... Shoko knew Gojo and most importantly, she knew the reputation that surrounded him and if not the reputation then... the crowds of women. Not to be mistaken though, Geto was surprisingly far more popular with women back when Gojo and him were teens.

"You're here alone? That's a new one." She patted Maki's back, signaling for her to leave as Gojo entered the office.

"Yeah well... y/n left right after practice ended." He groaned and laid down on the cold metal bed Shoko had. "She did strain her leg though so I don't know why she refused when I offered to take her to you."

Shoko's alarms went off. You, refusing help from none other than Gojo Satoru? The guy you had a crush on for the last year now? Sure, there had been a few times here and there when you refused to help each other out of pure banter but at the end of the day, both of you walked into her office together.

"What's with that smile?" Gojo raised the left side of his blindfold just to side eye Shoko. "It's creepy."

But Shoko's life had just gotten a new meaning because the very next day she was ringing the doorbell of your apartment. She knew it was Saturday, you didn't have any missions and no practice time with Gojo so this was the perfect time to learn what had happened the night before.

Shoko wasn't someone who liked gossip. Scratch that: she wasn't someone who liked to work in order to learn the latest gossip. To his credit though, Geto always brought her something juicy. With him now gone, she was counting on you and Gojo.

"It's... 8 in the morning... what are you doing here? Why are you even up so early?" You let out a yawn and stepped aside to let her walk in your apartment.

"I need to know everything." She removed her shoes and her coat. "And when I mean everything, I mean even the tiniest bit of sweat that ran down Gojo's exposed forehead that made you not come to my office yesterday." With an air filled with nonchalance, Shoko took the ashtray you had bought specifically for her and walked towards your balcony. She knew you didn't like the smell of smoke in your house. "Come on! I need words coming out of your mouth sweetheart!"

You would have made up an excuse. Shoko knew you would, she could practically see it forming in your head but she knew you weren't going to say it. Because she was your best friend and you were hers and in the past year, the two of you had shared more secrets with each other than she had with anyone else. Yaga's hemorrhoids? You had discussed that in your first week there. Yuta's crush on Maki? Been there, said that.

"Um... I just... does he have a girlfriend?"

"No? Why?"

"Because... like..." And then you finally caved in, taking the closest chair and placing it next to the one Shoko was sitting on. "Two days ago, after we had returned from our mission, I filled in the paperwork and as I was heading to Yaga's office I saw him talking to a woman... and she seemed both serious and flirty?"

"How did she look like?" Shoko asked a little hesitantly, hoping you weren't talking about the one she thought you were talking about.

"Tall, blonde hair, she was holding a helmet."

Her assumptions had been correct. "Yuki? Tsukumo Yuki?" She turned to look at you with wide eyes and a cigarette that was hanging so loosely from her fingers that could fall in any moment. When you didn't respond, Shoko bursted out laughing. "Are you shitting me? Yuki is a special grade sorcerer. She would never... god... anyways, I have to go to the office."

That was a lie. Shoko wasn't going to the office.

Conveniently enough, yours and Gojo's apartment were as close as a fifteen minute walk so when she finally reached the fifth floor of his flat, she wasn't breathless.

"If you don't confess to that poor girl in the next hour, I will personally call her and tell her that her contact name in your phone is love. With a red heart."

"It's almost nine in the morning what are you doing here? Why are you even up so early?" He let out a yawn but unlike you, he didn't let her in so Shoko just pushed her way in. "No matter the case, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh you do. You have bought her kikufuku over a thousand times. Kikufuku that were meant for you!"

"I am a person who likes to share." Gojo leaned against the kitchen bar.

"He is lying." The old lady that he had hired to clean his house on Saturdays spoke, walking out of his bathroom. "He keeps following me while I clean and talks about her. I even sent her a gift on her birthday since aparently I know her better than her own mother."

Shoko's eyes widened at the sound of this new information and it wasn't long before she started throwing the apples on the kitchen counter at Gojo.

It took Gojo three minutes to put on some nice clothes and he could swear that if Shoko was tall enough to reach him, she would be dragging him to your house by his ear.

"What's-"

"Have fun!" Shoko pushed Gojo inside your apartment and before both of you could protest, she closed the door and glued her ear on it so she could listen to every single word, every single comma said between the two of you.

"How's your leg?" He asked. If anyone were to grade him right now, maybe he could get a D- for the effort.

"I'll live."

"Um... so..."

Was he nervous? Gojo Satoru, nervous. Let me rephrase that: Gojo Satoru was nervous while talking to a woman?

"You have made huge progress this past year. And I appreciate that we..."

The truth was that not even Satoru himself knew why he was so nervous. He had performed this speech for months in front of his mirror even though he knew how unlike himself this was. Gojo Satoru never rehearsed love confessions because he never needed any. The girls confessed to him, not the other way around.

"We?"

"Please calm down a little. I am trying to remember the highlighted part at the corner of the page."

No, he hadn't written anything down. Hell, he had never even completed one rehearsal of this supposed love confession. But humour came naturally to him; it was the only way Gojo knew when it came to dealing with stressful situations. Especially after Geto left.

"I am glad we are the strongest um... together."

"Sure." You brushed it off, unaware of the amount of effort this poor guy was putting into confessing.

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7."

"For what?"

"Our date?"

"What date?"

"The one I am taking you on because I just confessed and this is what couples do?" A small pause followed and Gojo could practically feel the sweat staining his forehead even though he wasn't really sweating. "No?"

"8 works better."

[nardo-headcanons]

About Deidara

i am back again with some shower thoughts about Deidara, once again, 90% headcanon and very rambly

Deidara is, in my opinion, one of the most misunderstood characters of the Akatsuki. Many paint him as an explosive (pun not intended) idiot who simps for the Uchiha. But I don't think it's so simple.

We all know Deidara heils from Iwagakure, the hidden stone village. Considering his closeness to Oonoki, Kurotsuchi and Kitsuchi, I like to think he is a direct descendant of Oonoki and related to Kitsuchi in some kind of way. Maybe a son? A nephew?

LET ME EXPLAIN:

Thank you so much to the OP who initially pointed this out, unfortunately I couldn't find their post even after 2 hours of scrolling.

Naruto, as can be seen, has full monolid eyes, making him not European looking, contrary to what many people, including myself, thought. Sasuke, on the contrary, has double eyelids, a trait seen as very desirable in Japan and other East Asian countries. Sakura has a mixture of both, a double eyelid but with visible epicanthal fold. These details all stay consistent through the manga. BACK TO DEIDARA

Living with the Tsuchikage has its perks, including wealth and leisure time. Since in Iwagakure, the Tsuchikage heil from one family and one family only, I think that from his birth, Deidara had been shaped and molded into the perfect next leader. He was given anything he desired for, he could have anything that he wanted. He was never allowed to be the kid Deidara, the one making mistakes and living in the moment, no, he had to pave the road for his future.

It was shown that Deidara does know how to make his explosions colorful, and that is mostly done by mixing the explosive substance with alkaline earth metals. Doing that requires knowledge of advanced chemistry since you need to know the ratios and mix-ins. If we take into account Onoki's Kekkei Touta, particle release, we can assume that Deidara has been tought in the natural sciences, up to the atomic level. (this is so cool in itself, he could probably explain orbital theory and quantum mechanics to you)

Deidara was 9 years old when he became a rogue ninja, having joined the Iwa explosion force at a young age and became one of its most talented members. It's making me believe he must have been a literal super genius if he managed to go that far as an elementary school kid. The name "Deidara" might be a pen name he chose for himself as an artist, and Onoki, Kurotsuchi and Kitsuchi call him that out of respect - just like Deidara always uses respectful honorifics for his higher-ups. He was raised that way.

He was used to people reacting to him with awe, whether that be the Iwa citizens treating him as royalty, or the people looking at his bombs moments before they go off. It's all he has known. So, when emotionally constipated Uchiha men come along, who don't give him the reaction he believes he is entitled to, he explodes. Literally and figuratively.

In a way, Deidara is, like so many others in the shinobi world, a child forced to grow up way too quickly, never being allowed to live in the moment, always having to think of the future. Maybe his time in the Akatsuki was the most freeing he has ever had.

[dewinabsentia]

ghoul love languages

─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ 𖤐 ⋅⋆ ───

swiss / physical touch

swiss loves his physical touch. anytime he’s lounging near another ghoul, they’re touching. whether it’s a delicate tangle of tails, or fully hauling someone on top of him. even on tour, when everyone is far too close together, swiss still craves it. when walking backstage he likes to have some point of contact with someone, just a brush against their shoulder, even better when their hands entwined.

dew / acts of service

emotionally constipated as he is, dew is pretty good at showing his love through actions. he’ll wake up early to quietly make everyone breakfast, take over cumulus’ den chores when she’s overwhelmed, work alongside mountain in the greenhouse. it’s not just about giving though. the rest of the pack have learned his unspoken appreciation for acts of service and will silently slide up next to him and take up whatever task he was working through. a soft thank you, for providing help or just letting someone else help, will usually having him stifling a beaming smile.

aurora / gift giving

aurora just has so much love to give. she’s burned cd’s with music she thinks sunshine will like, ordered special seeds for the greenhouse that mountain had been talking about, made phantom some art to put up on his walls. her favorite part is the reaction she gets when giving someone something they really like. she feels like she has the whole world in her hand in that little moment.

phantom / quality time

oh phantom. he just wants to hang out. he loves his pack so much. he’s always orchestrating movie nights or game nights. sometimes he’ll plan with dew for a big family dinner night. he thrives off the buzz of everyone being together, the laughter echoing through the den, the purrs kicking up when everyone settles in.

rain / quality time

rain prefers individual quality time. don’t get him wrong, he loves his ghoul piles, but he preens in undivided attention. watching a show together, sitting together while reading, taking a bath together. his one on one moments with the other ghouls are his most cherished.

mountain / acts of service

mountain feels the best when he’s helping. he loves doing something that he feels is for the good of someone else. his work in the greenhouse, while running on his element, is a product that the whole ministry can enjoy. and he’s proud of that. he also takes a smug satisfaction in being the tallest ghoul around and grabbing things from tall heights, but he would never say that out loud. when another ghoul offers help, he’s all warm energy and big smiles. he loves spending time by sharing work. some of his fondest memories are from the days that dew has come down to help him in the greenhouse, both of them knowing how special these moments are.

cumulus / physical touch

cumulus is a cuddler. she’s always ready to nuzzle up to anyone in reaching distance and often initiates cuddle piles. she tries to have physical contact with as much of her pack as possible in these moments. she’ll lean back against mountain’s chest, rain nearby playing with her curls. swiss and sunshine on her left and right, phantom’s head in her lap, holding dew’s hand across sunshine, tail intertwined with cirrus. aether and aurora somewhere in the mix with a hand on her. it takes a bit of ghoul tetris but eventually cumulus has a little bit of everyone and everyone has a little bit of her.

cirrus / acts of service

cirrus’ acts of service manifest in keeping shit together. on tour she sometimes plays ghoul manager, having more natural authority over her pack than any human ever could. it’s never a burden, she has fun chasing dew out of dressing rooms to sound check, laughter echoing down the back halls of a venue. she likes scheduling outings for the ghouls, dragging them out to national parks and watching them experience peace in nature. as much as she enjoys holding things together, she’d never say no to handing it over to someone else. she’s good at indulging in receiving her own love language and the other ghouls are delightfully aware of that.

sunshine / words of affirmation

sunshine is never at a loss for words. she always has something to say. as much as she loves teasing her ghouls, her words are frequently tender and full of love. she’s all sweet petnames and i-love-you’s. she knows how to pick up the pieces of a broken ghoul and glue them back together with soft words of encouragement. she also knows how to fix a stubborn ghoul with a few choice words. while the rest of the ghouls aren’t as elegant with their words, they know sunny responds well to verbalized appreciation. so they do their best to remind her how loved she is, even if it comes out fumbled and awkward. she understands all the same.

aether / acts of service

much like mountain, aether feels his best when helping others. but rather than physical actions, he relies more on his elemental abilities. it’s no secret quints have a magic touch. aether loves jumping at any opportunity to give some of his element away, quelling the mildest of stress to soothing the most intense of pain. sometimes aether gives too much of himself away, leaves himself drained and exhausted. but there’s never a lack of ghouls ready to take care of him, nursing him back to his best self with a few loving scolds about spreading yourself too thin.

[milksnake-tea]

5 + 1

"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."

rollo flame x gn!reader

contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory

word count: 6.3k

note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it

tags: @crysangria

———

Rollo doesn’t fall in love.

He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.

While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.

Noble Bell was no different.

In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to. 

When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.

That was, until he met you.

—[1]—

A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.

The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.

It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.

Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.

“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.

And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.

You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.

Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.

It was refreshing.

Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.

Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble. 

Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.

“You forgot to use the formula.”

“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.

“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”

Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.

You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”

“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”

“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”

“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.

“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”

“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.” 

“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.

Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.

“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”

“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.

It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.

“Is this right?”

Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.

“Good work,” he praises.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”

“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.

“You sure?”

“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.

“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”

Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.

But he doesn’t hate it. 

Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

—[2]—

You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.

Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.

You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.

You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.

“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”

“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.

“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”

“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”

“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.

You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.

Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.

For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.

Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.

You’re very correct.

Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.

“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.

“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.

"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.

Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.

“Is there an issue?”

“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”

“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”

Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.

Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.

In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.

—[3]—

When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.

You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.

Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.

Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.

Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.

You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.

The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.

“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”

Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.

“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”

You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”

“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.

While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).

“So, what kind of food do you eat?”

“The same as everyone else.”

“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”

“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”

“Eh, makes sense.”

You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.

But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.

“Rollo?”

Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.

“Oh, you forgot this!” 

Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.

He doesn’t get the chance to.

You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.

“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”

“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.

“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice. 

You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.

But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.

“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”

“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.

“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”

—[4]—

“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”

It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.

You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.

You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.

You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.

“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”

“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”

“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”

You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”

“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.

“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”

“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”

“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”

That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.

Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.

The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.

“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”

The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.

“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”

“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”

“Only an hour, the rain helps-”

You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”

“But I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.

You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.

“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.

Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.

“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”

“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.

“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.

“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.

“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”

Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”

The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong? 

You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”

“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.

“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”

“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.

“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”

“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.

“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”

Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.

You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.

You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.

The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.

“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”

You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.

“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”

“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.

You smile, relaxing into his hold.

“As long as you’re okay.”

Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.

You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.

It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.

—[5]—

Rollo thinks he’s going to die.

Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.

He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.

He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.

“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”

Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.

He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.

“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.

“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”

“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”

“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”

“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.

“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.

“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”

The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.

Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.

You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.

“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.

“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.

You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.

The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.

But you both hesitated too long.

Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.

The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.

“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”

Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.

You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.

There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.

—[ + 1 ]—

Rollo isn’t stupid.

He isn’t oblivious.

He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.

But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.

Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.

What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?

He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.

It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.

So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.

With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.

"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."

Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.

But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?

You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.

"You okay, Rollo?"

He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.

Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.

"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."

You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."

"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.

The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.

Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.

You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.

Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.

Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.

It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.

In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.

Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.

[mud-castle]

Nutmeg: Your help today was invaluable, Scourge. Thank you. Scourge: Uh- yeah...sure...whatever

The leader of Hope Colony and her emo, emotionally-constipated second taking a stroll after a mission.

More info under the cut:

It dawned on me that there would be a fairly large time gap between Scourge and Nutmeg's experiences with the clans. Now, I could make Scourge younger, but I think I can make it work

So, Tiny makes it out of his house, barely alive with some fresh wounds and his collar broken off, and runs into the city after a forest cat raid. While he never does the whole dog and Bloodclan thing, he does grow skilled in ways to survive in the city and builds his own reputation.

Four years afterwards, a new name is sweeping the city, Nutmeg. A kittypet who not only managed to save two of her kittens in a raid but killed a forest cat while she was at it...and lived. She rapidly gains followers and builds up a group she names the Hope Colony.

Their mission: Keep the forest cats out of their homes and away from their kits by any means necessary.

Scourge is down for getting some forest cat blood on his claws and breaks his four years of routine to join. Having lived most of his life by himself, he's difficult to work with initially, but they help each other and eventually get along. Eventually, he becomes her second.

Nutmeg has a very warm, friendly personality. She's very charismatic and people-oriented. She generally prefers to try diplomacy, even with forest cats. If that fails, she turns to the power of incredible violence.

Scourge is always down for the power of incredible violence. He's well known for doing the "dirty work" of the Hope Colony, mostly because that's what he's good at. On the inside, however, he's struggling to live in a group after spending most of his life watching out for only himself.

Bro barely remembers to eat most days yet now he's supposed to keep up with the dynamics of the different city groups as well as forest cat issues. ugh. Politics.

As seen in the photo, Nutmeg freely gives compliments and expresses gratitude. Scourge is unsure how to react to the feelings this brings up.

Designs:

Nutmeg is now buff because Nutmeg deserves to be buff. And Squilf gets her tail from her grandma. She has scars on her side and on the eye hidden by her bangs from Thunderclan's raid on her home. The other scars are from the many fights she's been in since then. She still lives with her humans, though she's gone much of the day to run the Colony.

Scourge now has his iconic red bangs because I can't give him his edgy personality and not have them there. The fur naturally grows like that because I said so. The scars on his leg is from the forest cat raid he escaped from. The ones on his face are from random fights. He's also underweight cause he forgets to eat when in a work mindset.

[theambitiouswoman]

Natural Remedies for Common Ailments 🍃

*Natural remedies can be a great option for managing common ailments, but it's important to remember that they may not always be a substitute for professional medical advice and treatment. If you have a serious or persistent health issue, it's important to consult with a doctor. Also, remember that what works for one person may not work for another. Do your independent research, some natural remedies may have interactions with medications or existing medical conditions.*

Cold and Flu:

Honey and Lemon: Mix honey and lemon in warm water to soothe a sore throat and ease congestion.

Ginger Tea: Ginger has anti-inflammatory properties and can help with nausea and congestion.

Echinacea: Some people use Echinacea supplements or tea to boost the immune system.

Headaches:

Peppermint Oil: Apply diluted peppermint oil to your temples for headache relief.

Ginger Tea: Ginger may help reduce the frequency and intensity of headaches.

Indigestion:

Peppermint Tea: Peppermint can help relax the muscles of the gastrointestinal tract.

Chamomile Tea: Chamomile has anti-inflammatory and relaxing properties.

Insomnia:

Valerian Root: Valerian root supplements or tea may promote relaxation and help with sleep.

Lavender Oil: Lavender aromatherapy or a few drops on your pillow can promote relaxation.

Small Burns and Cuts:

Aloe Vera: Apply aloe vera gel to soothe burns and promote healing.

Honey: Honey has antibacterial properties and can be applied to cuts and wounds.

Stress and Anxiety:

Exercise: Regular physical activity can reduce stress and anxiety.

Meditation and Yoga: These practices can help you relax and manage stress.

Lavender or Chamomile Tea: These herbal teas may have a calming effect.

Sore Throat:

Salt Water Gargle: Gargling with warm salt water can relieve a sore throat.

Marshmallow Root Tea: Marshmallow root tea can help soothe throat irritation.

Nausea:

Ginger: Ginger candies, ginger tea, or ginger capsules can help with nausea.

Peppermint: Peppermint tea or candies may also help alleviate nausea.

Constipation:

Fiber-Rich Foods: Eating foods like prunes, bran, and beans can promote regular bowel movements.

Hydration: Staying well-hydrated is essential for preventing constipation.

Acne:

Tea Tree Oil: Applying diluted tea tree oil to acne-prone areas may help reduce breakouts.

Honey and Cinnamon Mask: Mixing honey and cinnamon into a paste and applying it as a mask can be beneficial for some.

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika comforts you after having a nightmare

content: fluff, arcane au, soft!sevika

You can't see.

The sound of your own gasping breath causes a nauseating sensation to settle within you. Everything around you is stark black, with no sign of anything familiar to pull you back to reality.

"It's okay," Her voice just barely keeps the dam from breaking. "It's okay now. I'm here."

Another sobs rips through you.

"I know," Her coaxing is tender. "It's okay. I promise." And even though she hadn't just relived your dream, you believe her. You know that she knows. She gets it. She gets you. Somehow, without you having to explain anything, she remains right here; understanding exactly what you need. "You're safe now."

Light illuminates the room suddenly. Despite the gentle click of her bedside lamp, the change is still jarring. Your eyes begin to burn as they struggle to adjust to your restored vision.

She stares back at you with piercing grey pools of care.

In that moment, the world rights itself again.

She doesn't say anything more. Your breathing calms to a steady pace, hair rising at the base of your neck as you realize that this is all you had needed. You can't help but marvel at how easy this is. How easy she makes it. All of those months of crying yourself awake, struggling through nightmares and flashbacks, only to realize that the simple gaze of someone you care for has washed it all away.

"I'm right here." She reminds you. And then you're pressed against the side of her, your head buried in her neck as her left arm circles around your waist. Naturally, you allow your legs to rest over hers. The cool surface of her headboard against your back is the only thing that keeps you from fully melting into her embrace.

Your hands grip onto her arm, the same arm wrapped around you, and you can't help but give her a light squeeze. It's an unspoken thank you. A gesture that you know she understands. She always understands.

Beads of sweat drip down the sides of your face and onto her shoulder. You don't bother to wipe them away.  And you don't think she necessarily cares.

Once you finally muster up enough courage to speak, you mumble, "It was a bad dream."

Her hold around you tightens. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You pause to ponder on her offer. Then you snort out a weird combination of a chuckle and sigh. "Not tonight. But I am more concerned that it's," You glance at the digital clock on her nightstand. "2 am in the morning and you somehow aren't tired of me."

"Why would I be?"

You lift your head, a wave of disbelief washing over you. "I've managed to disturb your sleep at 2am in the morning, Sev. Who wouldn't be even slightly annoyed by that?"

Even though you're grateful to be in this predicament, you hadn't necessarily thought you would ever get to this point with Sevika. Your friend group often teased her about being emotionally constipated. When you first met her, a month had passed before she even initiated a conversation. She wasn't the most outgoing. And she wasn't usually the type to hold people during strange hours of the night and listen to them complain about their issues.

But here she is. Holding you—asking you to complain. You struggle to fully understand why.

"The time of night is the least of my concerns right now." Sevika replies, pulling you out of your reverie. You're close enough for her breath to tickle your lips. Her pupils are dilated, gaze flickering to a space between your eyebrows. Then they trickle down to the slope of your nose before she peers at your lips. "Are you sure you don't need to talk about anything?"

You swallow thickly, reveling in the feeling of her skin against yours. Her hand slides to the base of your neck, fingers rubbing into the back of your scalp; holding you there. Tethering you to her.

A lump lodges itself in your throat. The sweetness of it all becomes painfully overwhelming. You aren't used to her being like this. And you definitely hadn't expected it. Every passing day that the two of you grow closer, the more that Sevika surprises you. The layers that come with her are multifaceted and sometimes entirely the opposite of what you initially thought.

Like now.

You blink slowly. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

A lapse of silence follows. Her eyebrows raise, head tilting in slight annoyance. You can already tell that she thinks your question is ridiculous. "You know why."

You suddenly feel naked despite being fully clothed.

Her gaze is unwavering, dark full lips parted and absolutely stunning. Your heart hammers in your ribcage. You're almost convinced it'll leap out of your chest as her words echo through your ears: You know why.

There's something between the both of you that's been boiling for a while now. You've been aware of it. It doesn't take rocket science for you to realize that friendships don't usually consist of shared kisses and slow morning rises with countless cuddles and breakfast food. At least, that's not how it's been for you with your past friendships.

But despite the line that's obviously been crossed, the both of you have yet to define exactly what you mean to each other.

It's something that you haven't been willing to say—for the fear of being rejected. For the fear of scaring Sevika away (it's taken a long time for her to become completely comfortable with you), and also for the fear of things changing.

You don't like change.

Not when everything is already perfect as it is.

But the signs are starting to become increasingly harder to ignore when she says things like 'You know why.'

"Did I scare you off..." She asks, grip tightening around your scalp in an attempt to regain your attention. It's a habit of hers you've grown to love. Your body grows rigid, a powerful magnetic force hitting you right in the gut. Within seconds, she loosens her grip, scratching gently into your scalp, completely oblivious to the sparks that she's triggered.

"No," You reply, mind fuzzy. "The opposite, really."

Her expression remains placid, as usual. But there's a tender shift in her eyes. It's subtle but it's there.

She tugs you closer to her and that's when you realize that you're in an awkward position of halfway sitting in her lap. You find yourself shifting your weight, trying to get comfortable despite the crick in your lower back.

"Here," She mumbles, pulling you towards her more. You allow her to guide you before repositioning yourself. You face her as you sit in her lap fully, legs straddling her. Both of her arms take this moment as an opportunity to wrap around your hips. Your heartbeat jumps up to your throat.

These feelings, these thoughts, are something that you don't ever think you'll get used to. Your mind can't help but focus on her half-lidded sleepy eyes, and how perfect they are when gazing at you in this way. She's wearing a tank top, which displays her broad shoulders and bulging bicep muscles.

And her hands....

God. Those hands.

She squeezes your hips and you bite your tongue to keep from reacting too strongly.

"Where do you keep going?" She inquires, searching your face with mild concern. She taps gently on one of your temples. "You don't always have to think so hard, you know."

Your throat is dry.

Like, desert dry.

You try to swallow but you can't.

Because she's so fucking handsome and caring in this moment.

You swallow thickly, an undeniable hunger rumbling through you. Out of complete desire, you reach up, fingertips brushing against the warmth of her brown skin.

You nod. "I know."

Then you bring your other hand up to cup her right cheek, caressing her for a few gentle moments, before traveling down to her neck. Your fingers graze against a few of her scars, rubbing gently into the skin, testing out the waters; hoping that this sort of intimacy is okay. She sighs at the feeling. Her eyes soften.

"You were screaming," She continues. "And no matter how hard I was trying to wake you, you wouldn't budge. I was worried."

Your eyes widen, realization settling within you from her admission.

She's still worried.

The kind of worry that she's never shown towards you before.

The kind of deep-seeded worry that people only have for those they really care about.

"I'm okay." You reassure her. Your hands shake as you squeeze her shoulders. "It was just a dream. Nothing worth mentioning for the time being, but I'm okay." Your chest hurts. Your throat hurts...your eyes. All of it. Feelings crash into one another, creating an impactful explosion within your heart. "You're here with me. So I'm more than okay."

Her eyes resemble something raw—almost close to...

"Okay." Her expression becomes heady. She allows her gaze to focus on your lips, incredibly transparent in her wanting—not holding back in the slightest with her intentions.

You analyze her in return, both confused and curious by her behavior. She lingers for so long, close enough for you to taste her breath, yet so far away. Your heart jumps into your throat as she peers back with an indescribable glint.

You feel a strong surge overtake you with a stuttering breath before you're leaning forward.

Lips and breath draw together, forming into the shape of one, and shooting a trail of shivers straight down your spine. Your mind buzzes, her affection unraveling you; breaking you. She's all soft skin and devastating fervor, with sounds of stars exploding between you two. The feeling of her holding you with immense regard—and the sensation of her chest pressing against yours, hands chaining you to her lap, digging into the flesh of your thighs with a delicious strength—has you falling apart pathetically.

You can certainly determine that there's been poems written about Sevika. The push-and-pull feeling of such perfection like her, with all of her charm and strength, is the sort of beauty that not every human is lucky enough to come across.

She bites and sucks and licks and it's otherworldly. Kisses melt into one another as a rhythm of panting and gasping materializes. She pulls away, lips planting into warm patterns against your neck. Your head tilts, need washing through every inch of your body.

Your grip on her shoulders tighten almost dangerously—to pull her close? Or steady yourself?—You can't be sure anymore. But she doesn't seem to mind, moaning into your mouth at the action.

Sevika is the first one that breaks away, lips puffy and pulled into a gorgeous grin.

Your lungs nearly collapse at the sight. This kind of smile that she wears is rare, laugh lines prevalent around her mouth with her gapped teeth on full display.

"As long as you continue to do that," You utter, still struggling to catch your breath.  "I'm pretty sure I'll always be okay." Then you shake your head, attempting to center yourself from the high.

She chuckles knowingly, smile widening so much that her face almost breaks. "I'll make sure to hold you to that."

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: In Which Chilchuck Begrudgingly Has Feelings for his Coworkers, and Kabru Has...Something. He Sure Has Something Going On Over There.

Before we continue, I feel I should clarify 2 things:

I've been trying, ish, to avoid spoilers for this comic, but I've watched through the Golden Country episode and more importantly I'm so bad at not reading spoiler-y but interesting- and insightful-looking analysis. So, much of this commentary isn't wholly original and any particularly genius theories of future events are likely made with actual foreknowledge.

When I said on the first post that I was starting the comic because "I need to know what happens", what I specifically meant was "I need to know how the Laios-Kabru dynamic ends up, and the general geopolitical situation, so I can accurately daydream what sort of tariffs they'll set in the kingdom of which Laios is definitely not going to be the one managing the political, economic, or social minutia." Tariffs are going to be important, okay. They're a key way a nation-state interacts with other nation-states, especially one with rare materials to trade, powerful neighbors who want them, and the natural barrier of an ocean. Truly, every fantasy series ever should be required to have an epilogue or many an additional book/season/etc of a The West Wing-style depiction of day-to-day governance of whatever resulted from the story's climactic finale.

Okay, back to the liveblog.

.

Inch resting. The manga characters, having met the Mad Mage, keep using she/her pronouns for them, where in the anime they used he/him. I assume one of these is just, like, wrong - some translation choice was made before truth was revealed later in the course of publication?

But it makes SENSE that the characters wouldn't necessarily know, at this point! The Mage's appearance is pretty gender-neutral, especially as an elf, an notably gender-ambiguous race. So the characters in the manga picked one guess and stuck with it, and the characters is the very slightly alternate timeline of the anime picked another and stuck with that!

Now: having used they/them throughout this musing and previously he/him because a) the show and b) that's what I saw in fandom, I think I'll switch to referring to the Mage with she/her pronouns now. Because A) that's how the thing I'm reading apparently will be doing it, and B) they still call her "Lord of the Dungeon", which is obviously the greatest gender option of all.

...however, the manga does keep saying "lunatic magician" rather than "Mad Mage" (caps mine), which is a TOTAL failing in drama. Always alliterate, preferably archaically.

.

Orc woman: Ugh, this halffoot sucks. I'll tolerate his company only as a favor to the vegetable guy.

Orc woman after listening to Chilchuck complain about his coworkers for an hour: Nvm, this halffoot is a worthy and loyal friend of the vegetable seller, and I guess those other guys too. He's just emotionally constipated about it.

.

Laios just has these soft little fond smiles sometimes and I? want to hug him?

.

MY MAN IS BACK!! Kabru wink count: 1 this chapter, 4 total [updated as I read]

.

Corpse Retriever: If you don't report us for trying to get you guys killed so we could collect a retrieval fee, we'll let you kill those two of our guys who are already unconscious and collect that fee yourselves. We'll just take 30% of it, for not telling on you.

Kabru, internally: Hm. Well, I'm not king of this dungeon yet, but nonetheless I feel comfortable passing and executing a just judgement upon you for your many known, presumed and planned crimes. Emphasis on 'executing.'

Kabru aloud: I accept!

Kabru: [starts killing them with a classic faint, wide-eyed smile]

What a guy. He's even holding that knife so well. Look, next he's analyzing social trends and acting ruthlessly to adjust them toward the direction of the greater good!

What a guy. Truly this is a "so my type that it's embarrassing" situation.

.

I can't efficiently crop panels to show all this, but favorite parallels in these chapters full of parallels:

Kabru's breakdown of the Touden party is like Laios eagerly explaining and analyzing the behavior and anatomy of monsters (including, though we don't know it yet, calculations for killing them - though we DO see him saying that humans are easy to kill because he knows all the physical weak points!)

The references throughout these two chapters, by Kabru and his party, to the interconnected socioeconomic dynamics of the island and dungeon - the corrupted system fails to check corpse retrievers, the Island Lord as an annoying but necessary bulwark against the Elves, the dungeon growing hungrier as fewer adventurers go down because there's less money and more risk - are so so so like Senshi and Laiois discussing the dungeon biome's ecosystem and food pyramid.

The whole vibe of the party re: their respective weirdo tallman leaders. We watched Team Laios develop this, recently crowned with Chilchuck's near-tearful argument to turn back for a rest, which means we can recognize it when we're dropped into it with Team Kabru: that "this guy is SUCH a goddamn weirdo, but I already followed him into some level of hell, so I'm obviously not turning back now." Kabru's party does think he's weird - "You remember so much about other people that it's creepy." "Why are you enjoying this?" But they're also pitching in on the speculation like Team Touden all hel cook monsters. Compare:

Also!! Something something predisposed beliefs and presumptions of others... This party is so eager to assume the worst of our party, even though our party objectively saved them from perma-death twice, once from ghosts and once from being eaten by fishmen. Chichuck is greedy and bossy, Senshi smells so...notably...that he's judged to be sketchy af... Kabru is trying his best with what info he has, he knows it's not enough to pass a judgement and he wants more, but it's very...uncomfortable? To see this sort of discussion of people we know are great, when we're so used to watching monsters be killed with exquisite understanding and respect.

...I'll chew on that angle of theme more later. Man, you know how, say, what makes the musical Hamilton so good is at its heart it's just like 5-10 leitmotifs that interweave to create every single song? Dungeon Meshi is like that. Hmm a Dungeon Meshical...

.

"Yeah, yeah, we've all heard your weekly lecture about how someone responsible and sociopolitically conscious needs to take the dungeon and the throne or everyone in this region is doomed. None of us can wait to see you flip off the Island Lord to his face. Eat your rations, buddy."

.

JUST THE CUTEST, INNOCENTEST, POLITEST, HELPFULEST (WITH NO ULTERIOR MOTIVATIONS WHATSOEVER) YOUNG MAN!! LOOK AT HIS BIG BLUE EYES AND EAGER LITTLE SMILE!

[3 seconds earlier:

I'm obsessed. In the spirit of this comic: I want to eat him with a spoon. I want to take small divots out of him and lick each one carefully off the spoon, luxuriously exploring and enjoying the complex texture and flavor. Like he's a really good pudding. And then I want to see if, if he and Laios kiss, do they both explode in antimatter.

[popponn]

things about sae.

it's sae's turn in my brain microwave. i want to understand you, underlashes senior. headcanons +observation+ rambling. spoilers, will be updated as time goes on.

scathing, mean af vocabs. pretty rude even as a child. but compared to rin, his cursing seems to be much tamer.

is REALLY focused on soccer. but also said in the character interview to not "only be able to/focus on soccer like him".

but in his introduction to u20 shows that he seems to value someone who goes all in to soccer. and it's kind of in line with the things he "admits" and chided. example a: shidou and isagi being individuals who are undeniably soccer obsessed (though on isagi's case as they haven't even talk, if i remember correctly, this might be more because of isagi's way of winning through "making use of luck"). example b: things he said in the u20 introduction in response to sendou.

headcanonish but this guy is giving me "burnout gifted child" vibe with all the prodigal status, expectations, and being hit in the face by the world. like what are you. are you satisfied by marina??????

there are few moments where he displays something that is pretty close to 'praise', but say it not to the related person/group himself. (i.e. his thoughts of blue lock in locker room, his comment about "dont switch out any of the u20 member".)

like is he being not nice on purpose????? honestly probably. headcanonish, but if seeing his way of giving comments to rin pre-spain, it's been like that since he was little. (i will check rin's ln again later)

in contrast to rin having "natural luck", this guy seems to more " making/seeking luck". but idk yet, with only ice cream sticks as clues. sae backstory and ln spin off when.

his eyes during the confrontation with rin in that snowy night are pretty expressive. but since visual cues leave a really wide room for interpretation + bllk tendency to subvert things, i will not comment. but honestly i really agree with the sentiment that sae was hurt by rin's words, but in the end the discouragement seems to come more from a place of "i don't want you to get hurt so just go home and don't play soccer anymore" (very very hc and more of an interpretation, as sae's pov is still non existent)

aka yeah, this guy is shit at displaying concern and any sort of care. headcanon but. do you see the vibe??? with rin???? like it's similar. what is this genetic.

simple fashion, but pretty trendy and chic(?).

this guy seems like a family guy who misses his family a lot. (please make up soon with your lil bro)

watches chibi maruko chan. has habits that genuinely reminds me of old people (drinking tea, looking at sea, thinking of family).

people at blue lock think of him as someone who seems to be good at study, but looking at the pattern of hyperfocused people in blue lock it either goes two way: a) his skill at everything else is questionable at best, abysmall at worst ; b) he is an all-rounder indeed.

but then again there is also the third type aka "good at football, still functional at everything except communication and emotional management skill".

his way of talking in jp is, to put it simply, pretty casual like guys his age. the thing that are the rudest part of it was his choice of words and the fact that he seems to talk like this to everyone. even his elder. and also the way he is very blunt in expressing his opinion.

but somehow that bluntness is gone when it came to showing vulnerable emotions. talk about emotional constipation.

if his character interview is reliable and unbiased, as it is from sae's own pov, his relationship with his parents seems okay.

genuinely wondering about his parents' canon response to his and rin's cold war.

does he even have friends. no like seriously.

his brother and him are really similar in many ways. rin is probably copying him in some ways tho—that, or rin's own issues. or sae's own issues.

please just make up with your brother. (2)

after spain his bang is gone. as in he just pushed them up. in u20 it still went down sometimes in a few panels.

he likes numbers. maybe he really is smart.

genuinely looking at him like "please get a hobby" not even as an insult but out of genuine concern. this dude has so many issues and the burnout child prodigy vibe is real strong with this one.

but not fully his fault. pretty much live alone overseas, probably with no friends his age and just a manager as his support system, went through a crisis, is a (probable) family loving guy with his family far away from him, then came home to his beloved lil bro he spoiled and dotted on and shared a dream with saying hurtful things to him on his lowest point. and not supporting his new decision and dream. from sae's pov, it's brutal.

i can defend rin on this too tho. honestly please talk to each other, itoshi bros. or acknowledge that maybe neither of you were in not in the best state of mind during that confrontation.

seems logical and he does likes numbers. but honestly, he just acts as he wants—look at how he talks to journalist, how he has 0 hesitation to leave an ongoing match.

went to spain at 13 according to rin's spin off novel. also mentioned to "hate to lose" and seems to be a strict perfectionist.

must be noted however that how rin sees him seems to be very biased. a bit of rin analysis/hc, but there seems to be "putting nii chan on a pedestal" going on there. how their childhood truly is from sae's perspective is still unknown. on rin's part tho, seems to be a very nice period.

is rich. so the snobby rich condescending guy aura is probably not that far from the truth. his sense of money seems to be a mess, as a few hundred millions is a small amount for him.

this guy seems to be picky with who he respects and he really doesn't hold back in disrespecting someone he doesn't. even higher ups and older people.

does skincare canonly.

doesn't seem to have friends so far...? (nel arc, before pxg match) but if we look at how rin is now, unsurprising.

in rin's novel, rin's physique is mentioned to be "better" than sae's actually. with how "rin wins in luck" while sae "loses" motive exist through the ice cream sticks, probably this motive will come up again when sae appears again.

[hisunshiine]

—so break me off another night [4/7]

Part 4 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️rating: M 🗓️wc: 3,596 + text messages 🗓️warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feelings of being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, self doubt, again Kim Seokjin as the antagonist, explicit sexual content: fingering, unprotected sex, only one person orgasms, dirty talk  🗓️an: thank you once again to my amazing team of betas for reading this for me. @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @peachiilovesot7 you guys rock. obviously we are getting towards the end of the week, but I am still working on the last two chapters, so idk if i can manage a surprise drop this week like last week, but i am aiming for consistency. thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

“Yoongi, darling, please put your phone away at the table,” your mom says as she reaches out towards his other hand. You share a look with him at the gesture and pet name, and he coughs to cover the awkwardness as you turn back to your cutlery, pretending to be invested wholeheartedly in the meal before you. Your dad sits on your mom’s right side, across the table from Yoongi’s fiancé, Leah, nose buried in a book and missing out on the conversation.

“Sorry, Mom. Just helping one of the guys out with some girl troubles.” Yoongi pockets his phone and smiles over at his fiancé, who sits to the left of him. “Thankfully, I don’t have those issues anymore.”

You know Yoongi doesn’t mean anything by his statement other than to bask in the love he shares with Leah, but you internally cringe because you know your mother. Three, two, one…

“You might not, dear, but your older sister’s biological clock is ticking. Speaking of your friends, is that one doctor, Seokjin, still single?” 

“Uh, I’m not sure, but he works a lot, Mom. He doesn’t really have time right now to date and stuff.” Yoongi looks over at you where you sit at the edge of the table on his right side, his eyes apologetic at opening up this can of worms.

“Now, honey, she’ll find someone when she’s ready. No need to rush, right, princess?” Your dad comes to your rescue, seeing the tension you’re clearly showcasing—tight smile, eyebrows raised, fists clenching around the silverware.

“But I want grandchildren! Healthy grandchildren at that! She is getting to an age where risks of certain disorders increase, and if she waits too much longer, she might not be able to survive a pregnancy, let alone the child,” she huffs, pouting about the scenarios she’s spewing. 

Your mom has always had a complete lack of regard for others’ feelings; it’s just one of her selfish qualities that you’ve all been subjected to over the years. Not that her wanting you to get married and have kids so she can have grandchildren isn’t selfish already, but now to demand that they have absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ with them—despite that not always being something a woman can control when carrying a child—just puts the icing on the cake. 

You make sure to time your response for when she picks up her wine glass. “Yes, Mother. I will be sure to tell the semen that gets ejaculated into me that it better not have any disorders.” 

The sounds of her sputtering the wine back into the glass fills you with satisfaction. Leah, Yoongi, and your dad all laugh to some degree, though your dad also displays wide eyes at the blunt nature of your words. 

Your mom says your full name once she regains her composure, but you’re too busy placing another bite into your mouth, the morsel melting on your tongue as you hum with contentment. 

“Young lady, I am speaking to you!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I thought I was old and withering away, all my chances of giving you crotch goblins to dote on basically fluttering out the window.” You nod at the large window behind her. 

“Very funny. Seriously, you’re a true comedian. I’m just the villain in your life, because me wanting to make sure that you don’t squander your life away alone and without love is a bad thing to want for my daughter.” Her fake tears are building; voice warbling as if she’s getting choked up at her manipulated selflessness being misconstrued.

“Oh, give it a rest, Mom!” You raise your voice, fed up with her attempts at gaslighting. Especially with the way things have been between you and Jungkook lately, you’re a little more sensitive to her needling at you than usual. The rest of the table falls silent, not used to you responding to her like this. 

“Honey,” your dad tries to cut in, but you’re already set on being honest. 

“No, Dad, don’t try to change the topic. She wants to talk about this, so we will.” You turn to face her head on, hoping that you won’t see Yoongi’s reaction when he finds out the truth between you and Jungkook. “I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now, and I didn’t want to tell you about it because you like to push and push and scare people away. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until it felt like it could be serious. So stop trying to pair me with Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any of Yoongi’s other friends, because I’m already seeing one of them. Jeon Jungkook.”

The room falls dead silent. 

“Wait, you’re…no way! You’re the one he’s been seeing?!” Yoongi’s incredulous tone has you swiveling to look at him. “I thought you guys were just like…best friends,” he finishes lamely. 

“Yes…why, what do you know?” Your interest piques as varying emotions cross Yoongi’s face. 

“Nothing, just that he’s been seeing someone for several months, and—actually, this is weird. I’m not talking to my sister about my friend.”

You sigh out, annoyance in every huff at the way he just decided to end the conversation. Especially since this means your mom now gets the chance to speak. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Is he that nurse friend of yours, Yoongi?”

He nods at her question, deciding to talk to her instead of you, as if it would be a safer territory. “Yeah, he works at the same hospital as Seokjin and Namjoon.”

“That’s a respectable job.” Your mom seems to be plotting, wheels turning behind her eyes. “How old is he again? Does he have any assets of his own?”

“Uhh, he’s twenty-six. And I’m not sure, I’m not his financial advisor. But he’s a good guy—works hard, is loyal to his friends, or so I thought, before I knew he was seeing my sister behind my back.”

You roll your eyes at him, about to speak up, when Leah beats you to it. 

“Yoongi, please do not tell me that you’re one of those guys who thinks that father’s and brother’s own the women in their families and that your older sister making her own relationship decisions is somehow something that needs to be run by you? And that it’s okay for you to be associated with him, but not for your sister?”

“I—no, I don’t think that way, I’m just shocked that the two of them kept it secret for so long, that’s all. That’s all, I promise!” He repeats it when Leah continues to glare at him, as if she is contemplating whether or not to proceed with their wedding at the end of the week. 

Your mom tries to direct the conversation back to your love life. “He’s twenty-six? Oh, no, he’s way too young for you! You’re thirty-two, darling, he’s not going to be ready to settle down with you at this point in his life! Why, he’s probably just now starting to enjoy his single life. At that age, men want to sow their seeds, not plant them for the rest of their life.”

Blinking at her, you feel dumbfounded at her words. As if twenty-six is so different from thirty—the age your brother is right now. You realize that there’s no arguing with her, nothing you do will be good enough for her. It stings to know that even if you were to get married and give her grandchildren, that they probably wouldn’t meet her expectations either. 

“Listen,” Leah breaks in, voice soothing as she reads the room. “I think it’s smart that you and Jungkook are keeping things quiet until you’re ready. Less room for others to try and break you up, and allows you to grow into love with each other without outside influences and doubt. He may be twenty-six, but you’ll know better than all of us what he’s ready for. Ages don’t have set milestones.”  

“Well said, Leah, thank you. Yoongi, have I told you that you did well choosing your future wife?” Your dad attempts to break the tension, and it works for the most part. The five of you resume eating lunch, and once it’s over, you bid your parents farewell under the guise of needing to finish preparing for your brother’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party that you’re graciously hosting. 

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi follows your lead, an excuse of last-minute wedding preparations rolling easily off his tongue so that he, too, can make an escape with Leah in tow. The three of you walk down the front steps into the summer humidity, and you wait patiently at the door of your car for Yoongi to gather his thoughts into words. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back there. I’m just surprised to find out about you and Jungkook because he’s talked to us about you before. I didn’t know it was you, and now that I do, I kind of wish I still didn’t,” he jokes with a gummy smile, easily settling your nerves, “but mostly, I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, the only reason I didn’t tell you about Jungkook is because he’s your friend and I didn’t want to make it weird for you guys, especially if it wasn’t going to turn into anything. I still don’t know if it will, but Mom was pissing me off, and I just wanted to shut her up. It didn’t work, but, oh well.”

Yoongi looks at you with questions in his eyes. “Do you…you know, want you and Jungkook to turn into something?”

You ponder the question, blinking as you roll the thought across your mind. “I think—I…”

“Let me rephrase it. Maybe it will help you figure it out for yourself. How would you feel if Jungkook decided he did want more, and stopped whatever is going on with you to pursue it?”

Just hearing the thought that Jungkook would decide he wanted more and not deem you to be the person to pursue ‘more’ with…it brings a pang to your chest. Your face reveals it, and Yoongi just hums before asking another loaded question. 

“Would you be okay if Jungkook decided to bring someone with him to the wedding? Someone who isn’t you?”

This causes you to pause again. 

“What do you mean ‘if he brings someone with him to the wedding’? Like a date?” Your chest feels tighter, a string coiling itself inside of you making it hard to breathe. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first, lips hesitant to speak, but you must be looking at him as if you need something, anything, to be able to fill your lungs fully. 

“Look, I care about you both, so I’m not going to gossip or share anything that I’m told in confidence. That being said—if either of my questions made you feel some type of way, do something about it.”

Yoongi leaves you with those parting words, moving to the driver’s side of his car. Leah waves at you from the passenger seat, and you wave back as Yoongi reverses out of the driveway and disappears out of view. 

Your living room is freshly vacuumed, various board and card games stacked on your coffee table and bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter. You load a case of beer into the fridge, waiting for Jungkook to show up with the food you ordered so you can set it out on the small dining room table.

A few decorations line the edges of the counter and dangle from the walls to celebrate the upcoming matrimony of your brother and his fiancé. You were able to change into a cute summer dress, possibly a little short but you were at home and could easily change if you needed, and just about everything was done. You check your phone again looking for a message from Jungkook, and it pops up when you unlock your phone. 

Slipping into your flats, you walk out your front door and watch as Jungkook’s car pulls up to the side of your street and parks. You walk the short distance to his vehicle and open the back passenger door to grab the tied plastic bags of hot food. 

Jungkook is still seated, the car’s music still playing despite being turned off. He’s grabbing his belongings, a black backpack, car keys, and cellphone, before grabbing the cardboard box from the passenger seat. 

“Thanks for grabbing this for me, Gguk. I was able to finish all the decorating and cleaning.”

You shut the door with your hip as Jungkook makes his way around the car, locking it with care as he balances the box in his hands. 

“Of course, it was on my way. Plus, we have thirty minutes to relax before people start showing up.”

Using your foot to open your front door wider, you allow Jungkook to enter first and then follow him in. Setting the hot food on a platter, you turn your oven on to warm so that everything stays fresh and ready to eat once the guests arrive. Jungkook sets the cake in your fridge above the case of beer, and you can hear him double check the front door is shut properly before he returns to join you in the living room.

You’re leaning over the far end of the couch, searching for your charger cord. “You know, I really should invest in one of those six-foot-long cords, this one is always disappearing.”

“You know, that dress is really short, babe.”

“Yeah, but I really like how it looks on me. If I start flashing people, let me know and I’ll put on some shorts or something.” You’ve almost got the charger in your grasp, satin-like cord slipping through your index and middle finger multiple times. The heat of Jungkook’s body pressing into you is both welcoming and pleasant, but one glance at the watch on your wrist and you know you don’t have a lot of time. “Jungkook!”

“C’mon, how am I supposed to resist this perfect ass when you’ve got it up in the air for me.” Jungkook leans back, replacing his body with his hands, firmly massaging your exposed cheeks. “I can be quick.”

“People will be here in like fifteen minutes, we don’t have enough time!” You move away from him, climbing off the couch and going to the kitchen counter. You’re sure you have another cord there that you can plug your phone into.

“What do you mean? That’s plenty of time for me to get you off.” Jungkook follows you, not giving you much space as you lean over the counter.

“And what about you?” you say as you turn to face him, finally having grasped a cord to plug your phone into, the connecting sound chiming off.

“What about me?” he says, leaning into you for a quick kiss. “I don’t have to cum right now, I know you’re good for it.” He ducks his head and kisses you again, this time pressing his body into you.

You return the kiss, and you don’t stop his hands as they travel up your thighs to get to your thong. He wastes no time in pulling it down, and once the waistband slackens he lets it fall the rest of the way to the floor, his fingers moving deftly to part your folds.

“Can’t believe you tried to act like you didn’t want me,” he mumbles against your lips about the way you’re already wet when his fingers make contact.

“‘Cause there isn’t a lot of time—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, kissing you hard until he feels you melt in his hold. You hear the rustling of his pants; the sound of the fabric and the distinct zip of his jeans as his free hand tackles his clothes. His fingers leave your core briefly, and you open your eyes as he pulls back from the kiss. Following his gaze, you take in the sight of his glistening fingers applying your slick essence to his shaft. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you follow his instructions. You’re not prepped like he usually makes sure you are, but sometimes it’s fun this way, even feels good, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he splits you wide. You feel the head of his cock as it slips through your folds and then the pressure as he penetrates your opening, thick cock stretching you open.

“So tight, fuck,” Jungkook growls out, and he continues to push his hips into you until he bottoms out. You feel yourself clenching, walls contracting around the intrusion as you grow accustomed to his size. 

“Please, Ggukkie—move.”

Jungkook sighs with relief at your request, pulling out of you just to slam back in, fucking you hard into the counter. You grasp at the edges of the counter, searching for purchase as you slide along the cool countertop. He never lets up, only picking up speed as you leak more after he adds his fingers to the mix, index finger spelling something along your clit as he pounds you. 

Pressed up against the counter like this, you place your cheek flat to the surface, the cool temperature helping to calm your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, and you welcome the closeness as he kisses at your neck, sucking lightly when you mewl at a sensitive spot.

“Fe-feels so good. Don’t stop.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, feeling the tightening coil building, and you’re so close now that he’s found the rhythm and is hitting your spot exactly how you like. “Kiss me.”

His lips find yours easily in the position, but the kiss is sloppy; Jungkook’s always liked it wet and messy. Likes you wet and messy. You’re close, and the sound of your doorbell ringing should make you freeze—should make you push Jungkook away from you so you can clean yourself up—but knowing someone is standing just outside your front door while Jungkook defiles you only a few steps away? 

“Fuck, babe, that’s it, cum all over my cock.”

Jungkook shivers as you stifle a moan, and as impatience rings your doorbell for a second time, he slips out of your warm core and pushes you towards your bedroom. 

“Coming!” Jungkook calls out, grabbing a paper towel to dry himself before tucking back into his pants. He sees your discarded panties at the last second and pockets them before opening the front door to let in one of his coworkers, Kim Namjoon. 

“Hey man, come on in!” he greets, holding the door open as the Fellowship Doctor steps through the entryway. “Just finishing the last touches, let me wash my hands real quick, I was in the kitchen.”

You appear just as Namjoon passes the counter to enter the living room, and Jungkook can’t help but notice all the ways he’s affected you. It just makes him want you more. He plans to have more of you later tonight, hence his backpack with a change of clothes for work in it. 

He can see you’ve fixed your hair, smoothed out your dress, but a small blossoming mark on your neck remains the only proof that he made you cum seconds before letting Namjoon into the room. The doorbell rings again, and you greet Leah and Yoongi graciously as you lead them into the main room. 

Jungkook eyes your legs, wondering if you had enough time and sense to put on a pair of undies—he’s hoping that you didn’t. 

As the room slowly fills with more guests, you and Jungkook orbit around each other, close enough to touch but avoiding contact for several reasons. His smirks and your desire-filled eyes speak loud enough for the both of you, though. 

Hours pass, and the group is buzzed and happy after a drinking card game. You find yourself sitting on Jungkook’s lap, as there isn’t enough sitting space for everyone to be comfortable. No one finds it weird though—you and Jungkook have been close since college and with the alcohol flowing, no one notices the too long touches or the way his hand sits high on your thigh as you joke with Seokjin and Hoseok. No one pays any attention when he finds out that you did not replace the underwear burning a hole in his pocket.

“Hyung, I finally have my outfit for Sunday,” Taehyung shares, calling across the living room to where Yoongi sits with Leah. 

“That’s good, I was worried you might show up naked.” 

Everyone laughs, and once it quiets down, Yoongi makes an announcement. 

“If any of you plan to bring a plus one, please let us know soon, so we can make sure our counts are right for Sunday.”

Murmurs go through the group, everyone confirming what they’ve already RSVP’d, but you stare at your brother. Your buzz disappears quickly as you wait for the man under you to agree that he’s not going with a plus one, but he shifts under you, not saying anything. 

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” 

Yoongi’s eyes move from you to Jungkook as he answers him.

“Yeah, that works. You deciding on bringing that girl you told us about?”

“Yeah, I’m sure SoHee’s waiting on a reply,” Seokjin chimes in. 

SoHee? As in school nurse SoHee? Your brother looks at you again as if to say ‘See? I told you so’.

“Shut up, Jin-Hyung. I only said I might invite her. I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

Everyone returns to their conversations, but a silence settles around your corner of the couch as both you and Jungkook read a little too much into what each other’s actions mean.

stay tuned for “i must be favored to know ya” coming 8-?-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[ashsd3ad]

# being gojo satoru’s therapist.

word count: 2.5k-ish

some angst (suicide is mentioned very briefly), no use of y/n, cursing, female!reader, idiots unknowingly pining for each other, emotionally constipated gojo

it was so fucking stupid, he didn’t need any of this. he’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern era for god’s sake.

why on earth was he being forced to see a goddamn therapist?

upon yaga’s request- well, demand actually, he was required to see a shrink because, as the principal worded it, he needed ‘a lot of fucking help’.

of course, he refused at first.

thee satoru gojo in a shrink’s office? what was that, some twisted fucking joke?

sadly for him though, yaga decided to put his foot down and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. he threatened the snowy haired man to take away his teaching job if he didn’t get the help he apparently desperately needed.

so it began, satoru gojo’s journey with his therapist.

over the course of a couple of months, satoru had grown accustomed to his routine with his therapist.

he met up with her in her cozy little office, she tried to make the conversation about his feelings and he’d redirect it to something else entirely, mainly complaining about higher ups in his field.

that always earned him a look, but she never forced him to share his inner monologues with her.

she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to anyways, he wouldn’t let her.

all of this led to an unlikely.. friendship?

well, satoru wouldn’t exactly call it a friendship, but it was.. something.

that day, was no different than their usual meetings.

a tall and lean figure made its way into her office and sat on the comfortable armchair in front of her about 30 minutes prior, but all she got from him up until that point were silences and changes of subject.

“and how did that make you feel?” god here she went again with that stupid fucking question.

satoru sighed, stretching his legs and arms a little.

sometimes she forgot how massive he actually was.

the woman briefly averted her eyes, looking everywhere but at his stupidly stunning figure, afraid yet another crack would appear in her professional persona.

she’d tell herself it wasn’t her fault, it was only natural after all! he was just very nice to look at.

she could be pretty dense, for a therapist.

“you worry too much,” he said casually, albeit a little irritated, after some back and forth. for some reason he couldn’t quite understand, his mood wasn’t the best that day, but he still tried to keep his usual laid back attitude, hiding the annoyance behind a pout. for her sake.

“i’ve told you countless times, i’m here just because i was basically forced, nothing is actually wrong with me.. if yaga didn’t constantly check in with you, i wouldn’t even attend our ‘sessions’ in the first place”.

well.. if he had to be completely honest, satoru had told only half the truth.

he attended their meetings also because his therapist was a very pretty sight to look at, and surprisingly interesting to talk to (when she wasn’t trying to pry into his feelings, that is.)

satoru was more than aware she was only trying to do her job, he really was. he just.. didn’t care, so he decided he was going to make it her problem. maybe he’d manage to get her to her wits end and she’d finally give up on him.

‘please don’t give up on me’

gojo leaned forward a little, resting his elbows on his knees. a playful smile took over his previously pouty lips as he said something along the lines of ‘why don’t we talk about YOUR feelings instead?’.

maybe he could joke his way out of this? he hoped he could.

his therapist sighs, scrunching her nose and pinching the bridge of it slightly. cute.

“we don’t talk about my feelings because i am your therapist, not the other way around, gojo” she countered, trying to keep the conversation as workplace appropriate as possible, suppressing the urge to headbutt the stubbron (and gorgeous) man in front of her.

the woman was very proud of her skills as a therapist, so much so that the lack of progress with this peculiar snowy haired man left her particularly dissatisfied, so she started putting slightly more effort than usual in trying to crack his façade, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“and, for your information, i do worry about you for a reason” she continued, voice firm, stern even.

‘she really worries about me?’

“judging by the very limited amount of insight on yourself you’ve provided me, you really do need someone to talk to about your feelings” his pretty therapist added, looking at him straight in the eyes.

she looked like she wanted to obliterate his sunglasses with her mind.

‘don’t look at me like that’

feelings feelings feelings, he was so tired of hearing her going on about them.

after that statement his mood quickly worsened even more, his face fading in a cold, borderline cynical, front.

‘well, thats a first’ she thought to herself, a little taken aback.

satoru had been curious about what exactly she saw in him from day one. was it concern? pity?

‘i don’t want her pity’

whatever it was, it was a waste of time on both ends.

"i see" he hummed thoughtfully as he tapped his fingers against his knee, pondering on his next words. "can I ask you something?"

“sure, go ahead” she answered calmly, a bit of unsureness and skepticism detectable in her voice given the sudden shift in his character.

satoru seemed to stare right through her for a few moments. his gaze was cold and unmoving, his eyes felt like they were piercing hers in a way that no other client's ever has.

“have you ever considered…” he begins slowly, voice low “that you might not be as good at this job as you think you are?”

his words were sharp, each one chosen with great intent. there was something behind his eyes that both fascinated and terrified her.

‘im sorry’

her eyes widened momentarily at his question.

a flash of annoyance, maybe even anger, thundering in them as her eyebrows furrowed, her lips parting to throw an equally biting remark back at him.

be professional.

she took a deep breath and crossed one leg over the other, speaking calmly once again.

“if you want to criticise my skills you’re free to do so, even though you’re not qualified to do so” the woman retorted.

“and if you want a different therapist you’re more than free to ask mr. yaga” her words did have a little edge to them, but she still managed to keep most of her composure.

before the man in front of her could get a word in, she added one more thing.

“but from my perspective, a therapist’s perspective, you do need one” she said as she tapped her heeled foot on the ground.

‘i know i need help’

‘help me please’

satoru pondered for a couple of seconds, then he chuckled humourlessly as he leaned back in his chair.

his face was stoic, similar to a statue, and his eyes lacked their usual shininess, almost looking muddy.

not that she’d noticed anyways, considering they were hidden behind his glasses.

there was an intensity to his gaze though, one that made even just looking at him feel as if she was under a microscope.

"I think you're taking this too personally." he hums, mocking her ever so slightly.

"i’m not criticising your skills per se, all I'm saying is..." he pauses for a moment, considering how best to say it. "even a blind man could see your ‘concern’ for me runs deeper than the usual pity you feel for all your patients”

“you must think i’m really fucking pathetic, huh?”

what the fuck was he going on about?

“my concern for you, or any other patient for the matter, is not based on pity in the first place, gojo” she looked at him, her face bewildered.

“you think i pity you?” she raised both her eyebrows in question, the incredulous expression still on her face.

satoru chuckles. though the sound is soft and quiet, delightful to hear, something about its sweetness makes it bone chilling.

nonetheless, this made her excited.

it was the widest range of emotions he’d ever shown her.

‘im breaking through!’

“do you not?” he asks, shifting in his chair, and leaning back in it once again, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“why else would you be trying as hard as you are to ‘fix’ me?” he asks, a frown stretched across his gorgeous face.

“i’m just a client like any other, but yet here you are! trying your damn hardest to change me.”

ah, so he did noticed her extra effort huh. fuck.

still, who the hell put the idea she pitied him into his stupid head?

“i do not pity you, gojo. i’ve seen patients far worse than you are” she said, almost sounding a little defensive.

“and i’m not trying to ‘fix you’, or change you for that matter! that is not my job!” she exclaimed, a smidge too loud, massaging her temple with one of her hands immediately after. probably to chase away the growing headache he’d given her.

‘i managed to piss off my own therapist what the fuck is wrong with me and why do i even care?’

before he was completely swallowed by his self deprecating thoughts, her voice brought him back once again, like a saving grace.

“my job is helping patients navigate through their emotions, using methods that are tailored perfectly for them” she explained.

“i communicate with my patients to help them find a way to process their feelings that works for them. i do not pity them, i just help them” she paused “..or, well, try to. if they let me” the woman concluded, face serious.

his face twists in distaste as he listened to her speak. bullshit.

“that’s the thing though,” he responds slowly “i don’t need help with that”

the man pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, finally meeting her eyes properly.

‘he’s so pretty’

“you think I need your little ‘tools’? or to talk about my feelings??” he said, annoyance lacing his voice.

“i have always known how to process my emotions. I don’t need you to teach me how. i’m. fine.”

she barely held back the urge to scoff.

gojo had never realised how bad his coping mechanism were, and she was just trying to get him to develop healthier ones, bit by bit.

‘communicating would be a great fucking start’

evidently though, it wasn’t working, so she decided it was time to switch up her approach and be a little brazen, maybe that would work.

“you? processing emotions? that’s a good one.” she snickered

he scrunched his nose up, questioningly “and what could you possibly mean by that, huh?” he felt himself get more and more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

he felt like he was being stripped naked, exposed, against his will. all the things he’d worked so hard to bury, the careless persona he’d built..

‘stop looking at me, stop finding out things about me i don’t want you to know.’

“you bottle everything up, pretend it’s fine and let it eat at you from the inside, little by little” she looked at him menacingly, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“that big goofy grin, or the confident smirk you put on, doesn’t work in here, gojo”

she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “in this office, i’m reading you, not the other way around” she continued ad she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“i know you’re used to getting you way, because you’re smart, even though it doesn’t look like it, but as long as your ass is sat in that chair, you won’t find a way to give me answers you think will please me”

“if your goal is to get me to tell yaga to get off your back, then we’re going to be here for loooong. i’m striving for the truth and i’m going to get it”

to hell with being professional.

the man remained silent for a few moments, his expression almost..hurt? “…I think I hate you.”

he smiled in defeat, leaning forward once again, and though his voice was even and calm, it came out a bit strained.

“no, I know I do.” he didn’t though, and that confused him to no end.

the woman gently laid her hands in her lap, trying to ignore the sting his words left in her chest as her voice went back to its usually stoic connotation, completely discarding the venom it previously dripped in.

“i get that a lot from patients like yourself” she started, calmly.

“usually, they drop therapy after a few session because they can’t handle the truth being thrown in their face and then, after a while..”

a pause, like she was choosing her next words carefully “they end up dropping dead on the floor when the fire crew cuts the rope they hung themselves from” she finished, her expression darkening ever so slightly.

“you think you don’t need help, you think you’re fine just ignoring your emotions, but one day they will catch up to you and it’ll be too late to save you” her voice lowered, almost shamefully, as she tore her eyes away from his.

“nobody will be there to save you from drowning.”

satoru looked shocked for a moment, then he felt a sudden and unprovoked rage take over his body.

how dare she?

he wasn’t like that. he was strong. the strongest, actually.

he wordlessly jumped up from of his seat and went to stride straight out of the room, with the intention of never stepping foot there again, but then he stopped, his back still to her.

for some weird reason he couldn’t quite comprehend, gojo felt the need to still try and prove he was fine, despite the fact the issues he’d tried so hard to hide had been uncovered and brought up to the scorching sunlight.

“i’m not stupid. i am perfectly aware shit might eventually catch up to me, but i’m the strongest fucking being that ever walked this earth, i’ll deal with it”

what was meant to be a powerful statement, came out sounding whiny and hoarse, almost like he was trying to delude himself into believing his own words.

‘at least he admitted he has issues, progress is progress’

his therapist opened her mouth to talk, but he didn’t give her a chance.

he felt like he was being consumed by a sudden and foreign rage.

“BESIDES WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?!” he suddenly screamed, rapidly turning to face her again, his glasses being hauled across the room in the process.

“why are you that concerned over some stranger like me?” he adds, his expression hard, “do you genuinely, truly, believe I’m worth helping?!”

‘we’re going to have to work on these self deprecating thoughts’

‘im the strongest, i don’t need to be cared for.’

“yes, i do” she stood up from her chair in a (failed) attempt to not crane her neck upwards to look at him.

“i do believe you are worth helping” she assured him in a gentle voice “you can walk out now, if you wish, but never forget this is a safe space where you’re free to talk, satoru” she said, her words surprisingly comforting.

“you’re not a god, you’re human just like the rest of us”

being called human never felt so good.. and it was also the first time she had ever called him by his first name.

and just like that, the usual gojo satoru was back, cracking jokes.

“do you normally call your clients by their first name, or am i special?” he asked, the question dripping with sarcasm and a tiny bit of flirt, as a small smile appeared on his lips.

the angry pretty boy has been calmed down, success.

“you definitely have a savior complex” he added quietly, chuckling a bit “it’s cute”.

a smile made its way on her face too as she shook her head a little, her cheeks a little warm at the compliment “whatever lets you sleep at night”

the woman sat back down, once again crossing one leg over the other.

“now, will you sit down and give therapy an actual chance, satoru?” she looked up at him, expectantly and hopefully.

“yeah.. yeah, i’ll do that.”

gojo satoru may have been the strongest sorcerer in modern history, but he was still human like everyone else.

☆

| @ASHSD3AD ‘S WORK, DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE. |