†She/He/They | 25 †⥠Multifandom ⥠â Sleep schedule status: what year is it? â ⧠Informatics student who loves to draw and yap about their interests â§
my friend showed me a screenshot of this announce line from the final fight of canto vii in the mirror dungeon and this was the first image to pop into my head
this is the third part of a request i got like 3 weeks ago đ get gregored on
general gregor headcanons
đ«§gregor has such atrocious self-esteem that you are undoubtedly going to have to be the one to take the first real step. he's fond of you in a way that he isn't with the other sinners, in a way that he usually isn't with anybody (at least that's gone anywhere), but he has no intentions of acting on it because he can't fathom the idea of you returning his feelings
đ«§you have to take things slow with gregor. he'll come around eventually, but much more subtle, fleeting forms of affection are best at first-- even if they leave him longing for more. your hand brushing his as you walk, or your pinkies briefly linking. the first time you kiss him on the cheek, he turns bright red and chokes on the smoke from the cigarette he'd been puffing on. once you slowly warm him up to it, he really likes to drape his arm over your shoulders or even let you lean your head against him. he still greatly prefers to see you coming, so no bear hugs from behind or anything of that sort, but he doesn't mind you initiating a loose hug every now and then, though he probably won't. he's usually either the little spoon, or you can sleep with your head on his chest. the arm makes cuddling a bit of a process to get used to, once he finally works up to the point of being able to sleep in the same bed
đ«§speaking of the arm, just don't bring it up unless he does first. he typically chooses to either ignore it in a form of faux acceptance. it's not like you're walking on eggshells or anything, but you regarding it with neutrality is the best thing for him; it's there and there's no purpose in pretending it isn't, but pointing it out doesn't help either.
đ«§gregor can yap, but he's also a good person to seek out when you need to talk. he offers you a safe place to just vent, and if you really want advice he can try... or direct you to someone who might be able to actually help. either way, you're pretty safe from judgement with him. he cares for you, and he wants to be there in any way he can. it feels reciprocal to him in a way; he'll always feel like he needs to pay you back in some way for simply being with him
đ«§definitely a quality time sort of guy. he doesnât care what the two of you do, but he really just likes to have some chill alone time to just be. grab some takeout, a pack of cigarettes, listen to his stories and tell him yours. he'll be the happiest bug in the city.
đ«§he craves a normal life, or whatever version of that he could have in the city. he knows that he could, potentially, find that with you... but he also worries that he'll prevent you from having it. the stares, the constant reminders of the war, the fact that at any time his arm could react and hurt you. gregor feels like he's just dragging you down with him
đ«§i touched on this in the poly headcanons but i can't see gregor using many petnames, aside from the occasional "liebling" or "babe" when it's just the two of you. not picky about what you call him! honestly kind of flattered to get called by terms of endearment at all
gregor is someone that is always waiting for the other shoe to drop. he waits for everything to go downhill, to make a stupid mistake, even if he tries to brush it off with a cynical laugh. you have to assure him that you're capable of making your own decisions and knowing what you want, enough to really hammer it in. he's not always the best at expressing it, but he truly is grateful for you, and he's getting better at accepting your relationship as a real, stable thing
Fine arts have been beating my ass lately, to cope I drew a war veteran feeling the same.
Jokes aside, this is probably my last post for June, I need to wrap up my MANY late assignments so my schedule is hectic as hell. Thank you for enjoying my illustrations and Iâm very sorry for my inconsistent timeline, itâll get better I promise!!!
[ TAGS / WARNINGS ] â gn!reader , hurt/comfort , healing , childhood trauma , fear of eye contact , ability user reader
based on this request
you learned early that looking at people came with consequences you couldnât undo.
your ability activated through eye contact, clean, immediate, irreversible. so you adapted the only way a child could: you stopped looking. at faces. at eyes. at anything that might turn a passing moment into something dangerous.
you became very good at it.
at keeping your gaze lowered just enough to survive conversations without ever truly entering them. at nodding at voices instead of faces. at existing in rooms like a shadow that never quite met the light.
when you joined the agency, it wasnât because you believed things would change. it was because, for the first time, someone said your ability didnât make you disposable. just⊠careful.
and then there was him.
fukuzawa.
he didnât treat you like something fragile, and he didnât treat you like something dangerous either. he treated you like something that simply existed, and therefore deserved space to learn how to exist better.
at first, you avoided even his presence out of habit. your eyes stayed lowered, voice steady but small, movements precise in that practiced way of someone who had learned how not to be seen too much.
he noticed. of course he did.
but he never forced you to change. he never asked âwhy wonât you look at meâ like it was a question that needed fixing. instead, he simply spoke to you like you were already part of the room.
âyou may sit here.â
âtake your time.â
âthat is sufficient for today.â
words that didnât demand anything from you except presence.
slowly, things shifted.
not all at once. not in some dramatic moment of courage or breakthrough. it was quieter than that.
it was paperwork shared in the same room where nothing bad happened when your eyes accidentally drifted too high. it was conversations where you realized you could listen without bracing for impact. it was the strange, unfamiliar absence of fear that made you unsure what to do with your hands.
you still didnât look at people.
not fully. not yet.
but one afternoon, while working beside him, a file slipped from your hands and landed near his desk. you moved immediately to retrieve it, eyes instinctively fixed downward, body already preparing to minimize your presence even in this small moment.
âwait,â he said.
you stopped.
not because you were afraid. because something in his voice asked you to.
âlook at me,â he added gently.
your breath caught.
for a second, you considered refusing, not out of defiance, but out of muscle memory. out of years of survival.
but then you did it.
you lifted your gaze.
just enough, just long enough to meet his eyes.
and nothing happened.
no rupture. no pain. no consequence. no collapse of the world around you.
only stillness.
only him, looking back without hesitation.
your fingers tightened slightly around the file as your mind struggled to reconcile what your body already knew: you were safe in this moment.
he didnât ask you to hold the gaze. he didnât push further. he simply let it exist.
âit is alright,â he said quietly.
and for some reason, that was what made your throat tighten.
because it wasnât permission to do something impossible.
it was permission to stop believing it was impossible at all.
after that, you didnât change overnight.
but you changed.
small moments. brief glances. seconds where your eyes didnât immediately drop away from the world. learning that looking at someone didnât always mean danger. sometimes it just meant connection.
and each time you faltered, he remained the sameâsteady, unchanging, present in a way that never demanded more than you could give.
one evening, as the day wound down, you spoke without thinking too hard about it.
âi think⊠i can try more,â you admitted softly.
he looked at you for a moment.
then nodded once.
âgood,â he said. âthere is no rush.â
and for the first time, the idea of looking up didnât feel like a risk you had to survive.
it felt like something you might one day simply do.
