[ginnykun]

ᯓ★ # WELCOME !! :D

(my tumblr has been glitching lately and i’m having issues with the masterlist, but i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!)

masterlist ˚⟡ 🎀 ˖ ⭑.ᐟ

GOJO SATORU’s biggest fan

🩰 GINNY # . . . she/her . italian . otaku . jjk enthusiast

posting : jujutsu kaisen / my hero academia / naruto / haikyuu / bungo stray dogs / demon slayer

( >ᴗ<) 𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚘𝚡 : open ┊𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 : open .ᐟ.ᐟ

[ginnykun]

i just know gojo would call his luxurious house the gojo’s mojo dojo casa house UvU

[ginnykun]

“i’m a zombie in my body” but it’s yuji being sukuna’s vessel. STOP.

[ginnykun]

“it looks like being strong isn’t enough.”

STOP ITTTT!!!! THOSE @fyemajj ‘S ANIMATION TIKTOK EDITS ARE KILLING ME STOP IT!

[ginnykun]

not asagiri saying patrick jane is who inspired a lot of dazai’s personality traits and i literally grew up watching the mentalist 😭

[ginnykun]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY >:DDDDD (you are a year closer to death :>)

THANKKKKK YOUUU 💕💕 (is it a threat? lol 🫪)

[ginnykun]

happy bday mate!! have a good one <3 thabks for sharing all your writings w us!!

yeeeeeeeeey!!!!

thank you sooooo much hihi 💕💕💕 thank YOU for taking the time to read my work! stay hydrated and safe <333

[ginnykun]

yeeeeey today’s my birthday!!!!

[ginnykun]

for someone whose birth altered the balance of the world, his death didn’t seem to change anything…

[ginnykun]

@omgcoffee-and-murder (REQUESTED!)

yuji itadori with a crush on you after finding out you have a cold:

𓂃⋆.˚ the whole thing starts because you sneeze exactly once during training. just once. nobody else really pays attention to it, but yuji’s head immediately snaps toward you like someone shouted his name. when he notices you quietly rubbing your nose and pretending you’re fine, he frowns without even realizing it. for the rest of practice, he keeps glancing over every few minutes to make sure you’re okay.

𓂃⋆.˚ after training, he catches up to you while you’re gathering your things.

“hey!”

“hm?”

“are you okay?”

you smile, thankful for his concern, though your voice sounds a little stuffy. “it’s just a cold.”

“just a cold?” he says it like you’ve just announced you’re dying.

“yeah. people get colds.”

“i know they do! but… are you sure you’re okay?”

he spends the rest of the evening at the dorm thinking about it. genuinely.

he tries watching television. doesn’t absorb a single word. it’s a yuji thing, he’s hyperfixated now.

megumi eventually looks over from his book. “why do you keep sighing?”

“she has a cold.”

“okay.”

“what if it gets worse?”

“it’s a cold.”

“…yeah, but what if it’s a really bad cold?”

megumi stares at him for a solid five seconds. “you’re down horrendous.”

“what?”

“nothing.”

𓂃⋆.˚ the next morning, yuji shows up outside your dorm carrying far more things than any one person could possibly need: convenience store soup, sports drinks, tea, tissues, cough drops, fruit, two different brands of medicine because he wasn’t sure which one worked better, and for some reason…a plush bear.

when you answer the door wrapped in a blanket, your hair messy from sleeping, he almost forgets how to speak.

“hi!”

“hi, yuji…?” you rub your eyes and suppress a yawn.

“you look…uh…—he immediately regrets saying that—…terrible.”

awkward silence.

“…i mean— not terrible! you always look pretty! i mean—…you just look…sick!”

by the end of the sentence, he’s bright red. you’re laughing so hard you have to lean against the doorframe.

“…thanks, yuji.”

“i made it worse, didn’t i?”

“a little.”

𓂃⋆.˚ once he’s inside, he immediately goes into “helpful mode.”

he’ll ask if you’ve eaten. if you’ve taken medicine. if you’ve been drinking enough water. if you’ve been sleeping. if you’re warm enough.

after about the sixth question, you laugh softly. “yuji.”

“…yeah?”

“breathe.”

“wha- oh, right.” he sits down but lasts approximately thirty seconds, then he’s back on his feet because he suddenly remembers he wanted to make you tea.

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s not exactly the greatest cook, but he tries so incredibly hard that it’s impossible not to find it adorable. he ends up standing in your tiny kitchen reading the instructions on a soup container with complete concentration, muttering every step under his breath like he’s diffusing a bomb.

“okay…heat…don’t boil…i can do this.”

𓂃⋆.˚ when he brings you the bowl, he watches you take the first spoonful with the most nervous expression imaginable.

“…is it okay?”

“yuji.”

“yeah?”

“it’s canned soup.”

“oh…right. i still heated it really well…right?”

“you did.”

he grins so proudly you’d think he’d prepared a five-star meal. he’s the jujutsu michelin chef now.

𓂃⋆.˚ the sweetest part is if you fall asleep halfway through a conversation because the medicine finally kicked in and he doesn’t wake you. he’ll quietly turn the television volume down, tuck the blanket a little more securely around your shoulders and sit on the floor beside the couch scrolling through his phone, probably looking at some original recipes, glancing over every now and then just to make sure you’re still comfortable.

𓂃⋆.˚ at one point, you wake up to find him asleep too. he’d been trying so hard to stay awake in case you needed something that he eventually nodded off with his head resting against the couch, one hand still loosely holding the glass of water he’d promised to remind you to drink.

𓂃⋆.˚ when you gently tap his shoulder, he startles awake immediately. “…huh?”

“are you okay?”

“oh, uh…yeah! i was going to ask you that.”

“oh.”

then he notices you’re smiling. “what?”

“nothing. you’re just…really sweet.”

his brain completely short-circuits.

“i mean…—he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking everywhere except at you— “i just…i don’t like the idea of you being sick by yourself. you take care of everyone else all the time, so i kinda wanted to take care of you for once.”

your heart melts a little.

𓂃⋆.˚ by the time you’re feeling better a few days later, he’s somehow managed to catch your cold instead.

he shows up to training sniffling. nobara takes one look at him. “seriously?”

megumi sighs. “called it.”

𓂃⋆.˚ you walk over with the exact same bag of medicine and tea he’d brought you.

“looks like it’s my turn.”

yuji smiles despite his red nose. “worth it.”

“yuji.”

“still worth it.”

he gives you that dumb, fallen head over heels smile you could never ignore.

[ginnykun]

hiii ! can i request novelist reader with dazai headcannons? doesnt need to be romantic, can also be qpr. Whatever you prefer. gn reader pls!

dazai osamu:

𓂃⋆.˚ dazai realizes you’re a writer long before you actually tell him, it isn’t because he finds a manuscript or catches you typing away somewhere. he also mainly understands thanks to the way you observe people. whenever the agency visits a café, everyone else is chatting while you’re quietly watching the elderly couple by the window, or the little girl trying to balance six sugar packets into a tower. he notices your eyes lingering on tiny moments that most people would completely overlook, and one afternoon he simply smiles and says, “you’re collecting them, aren’t you?” when you ask what he means, he gestures toward the room. “people. you’re putting them somewhere.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he becomes shamelessly curious about your process. not because he wants to read unfinished drafts or anything: he actually respects your privacy more than people expect, but because he wants to know how your mind works. he’ll ask strange questions while you’re cooking dinner together, like, “when you invent someone, do you hear their voice first, or do you see their face first? or their traits? or-“ if you answer honestly, he’ll spend the next twenty minutes asking even more questions until the conversation somehow turns into a philosophical debate about whether fictional people ever stop belonging to their creators.

𓂃⋆.˚ if you tell him you’re struggling with writer’s block, he absolutely refuses to let you believe you’ve “lost your talent.” instead, he’ll quietly close your laptop, take your notebook away for the afternoon and drag you outside despite your protests. “stories don’t only come from desks,” he’ll tell you. “sometimes you have to go find them.” somehow the two of you always end up wandering around Yokohama with no destination in mind, and by the end of the day you’ve somehow collected enough little conversations, funny encounters and beautiful scenery to fill three chapters.

𓂃⋆.˚ he loves reading your dialogue because you’re one of the few people who understand that conversations aren’t just words. you’ll write hesitations, awkward pauses, little lies people tell to protect themselves in the story, and characters saying one thing while clearly meaning another. one evening he quietly closes your manuscript after reading a particular scene and looks at you with a tiny smile.

“you’ve been paying real attention.”

“to what?”

“people. you write what’s underneath things.”

coming from dazai, who spends almost every waking moment reading other people’s intentions, that’s probably one of the greatest compliments he could possibly give.

𓂃⋆.˚ he’ll occasionally become convinced that one of your characters is secretly inspired by him. sometimes he’s right. sometimes he’s hilariously wrong. he’ll dramatically point at a paragraph and gasp.

“this sarcastic, incredibly handsome genius…that’s me.”

“they’re seventy-three.”

“…still me.”

“they own goats.”

“i contain multitudes.”

𓂃⋆.˚ if you actually do base a character on him, he’s oddly touched by it because he knows you well enough to understand you probably didn’t copy his appearance. you copied the tiny things nobody else notices, like writers do. the way he avoids certain topics. the jokes that arrive half a second too quickly. the habit of staring at rivers for longer than necessary. when he recognizes those little pieces of himself, he grows unusually quiet.

“oh…you saw that?”

𓂃⋆.˚ when you nod, he smiles, though there’s something almost vulnerable about it.

“i didn’t think anyone did. or would. ever.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he also becomes your unofficial research assistant, though whether that’s actually helpful depends entirely on the day. if you’re writing a mystery, he’ll solve your fictional murder before you’ve finished explaining the premise. if you’re trying to write believable criminals, he’ll casually mention something so oddly specific that you stop writing and slowly look up from your notebook.

“how do you know that?”

“professional curiosity.”

“…dazai.”

“former professional curiosity.” he refuses to ever elaborate further.

𓂃⋆.˚ one thing he quietly admires about you is your willingness to love people you’ll never meet. he’ll watch you spend hours worrying over whether a fictional character would realistically forgive someone, or whether the ending you’ve written feels too cruel. eventually he’ll laugh softly and say, “you know they’re imaginary, right?” when you sigh and tell him, “i know, but i still want to do right by them,” something in his expression softens.

𓂃⋆.˚ because he understands that if you’re capable of caring that deeply about people who don’t even exist…then the kindness you show real people must be completely genuine.

𓂃⋆.˚ sometimes he’ll find you asleep at your desk after writing until three in the morning. instead of waking you immediately, he’ll carefully save your document, drape a blanket over your shoulders and make a cup of tea for whenever you eventually wake up. if your notebook has slipped onto the floor, he’ll pick it up, but he won’t read it. curiosity has never outweighed his respect for your trust.

𓂃⋆.˚ eventually, after months or even years, you finally let him read a completed novel from beginning to end. he disappears for an entire afternoon with the manuscript, and you spend those hours convincing yourself he secretly hated it. when he finally comes back, he quietly places the stack of pages on the table between you.

“well?”

he looks at you for a long moment before smiling.

“it’s funny.”

your heart sinks.

“what is?”

“you spend all this time worrying whether your stories make people feel understood —he gently taps the cover— and then you go and write something that made me feel understood.”

𓂃⋆.˚ for someone like dazai—someone who’s spent so much of his life believing nobody could ever truly see him—that’s about the highest praise he could ever offer a writer.

𓂃⋆.˚ after that, whenever he catches you staring absentmindedly out a café window with your notebook forgotten beside your coffee, he never asks whether you’re daydreaming anymore.

he already knows that somewhere in your head, another exciting story has just begun, and he quietly hopes that, in one way or another he’ll always be lucky enough to live in a few of them.

as the quote goes, “if a writer falls in love with you, you’ll never die.”

[ginnykun]

helloo! i hope you’re having a wonderful day today! i was wondering if you can write dazai x fem reader who has issues with her mental health to the point she creates an imaginary world to escape reality! obviously she’s very secretive about it and tries not to show it in public but whenever she’s alone she gets to roam around and imagine how her own world looks like even though her imagination feel childish and dazai obviously notices and knows how insecure she is that she hates when people call her childish for that and wants to change to fit in but cannot IF THAT MAKES SENSE! i thought maybe this could be comfort or fluff or angst BUT U CAN MAKE IT WHATEVER FITS THE MOST!

please take care of yourself and dont push yourself too hard! good luck!

sure!!

dazai osamu:

𓂃⋆.˚ for the longest time, dazai can’t figure out where you keep disappearing to. physically, you’re still sitting beside him. you’ll be reading on the couch, walking home together or waiting for a train, but every now and then your eyes soften in a way he recognizes immediately. your attention drifts somewhere he can’t follow. sometimes it only lasts a few seconds. other times he has to say your name twice before you blink and quietly apologize, as though you’ve just come back from somewhere very far away.

𓂃⋆.˚ eventually, he notices other things. whenever life becomes especially overwhelming, those moments happen more often. after particularly stressful days, you’ll lock yourself in your room for hours. when he asks what you did all afternoon, you always answer with something simple.

“just rested.”

he knows there’s more to it. he just waits for you to tell him.

𓂃⋆.˚ the truth comes out completely by accident. one evening you’re half asleep after a long day, curled up against him on the sofa. you start mumbling quietly to yourself before you realize he’s still awake.

“…the flowers are blue there.”

he looks down.

“where?”

your entire body goes rigid. you’ve never answered that question out loud before.

“…nowhere. forget i said anything.”

you immediately try to change the subject, but dazai gently catches your wrist before you can stand up just to let you know he’s still there.

“you don’t have to tell me. only if you want to.”

that’s what finally breaks you, because everyone else who’s ever found out has laughed first and asked questions second.

you expect the same thing now. instead, you find yourself quietly explaining a world you’ve carried around inside your head for years.

a place with impossible skies. forests that glow after rain. little streets you’ve memorized better than your own neighborhood. people who only exist because your mind created them when reality became too difficult to stay in.

by the time you’ve finished, you’re staring at the floor. “i know. it’s childish.”

he answers so quickly that you almost don’t process it. “no.”

you look up.

“it’s lonely. actually.” that sentence hits much harder because he doesn’t sound judgmental. he sounds… sad.

he reaches over and absentmindedly brushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“…you built yourself somewhere safe. people don’t usually do that unless reality gave them a reason.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he never asks you to stop imagining. i genuinely don’t think he would.

imagination isn’t the problem. what worries him is how guilty you feel about it.

𓂃⋆.˚ you’ll apologize every time you accidentally mention your world.

“oh… sorry. that sounded weird.”

he’ll tilt his head. “did it? i’ve heard much stranger things.”

“from people?”

“from myself.”

𓂃⋆.˚ after a while, you start telling him little pieces. never everything but just enough.

𓂃⋆.˚ you’ll be walking together and suddenly say, “there’s a bridge in my world that sings whenever it’s windy.”

he’ll smile.

“does it? what does it sound like?”

he asks exactly the same way someone else might ask about your hometown. because to you it almost is one.

𓂃⋆.˚ one afternoon, he finds you crying after someone at work casually laughed because you’d gotten distracted again.

“you’re so childish.”

“you need to grow up.”

they probably forgot saying it before the day was over. but of course you didn’t, those words hurt.

when dazai gets home, you’re trying so hard to pretend you’re fine that it almost hurts to watch.

“they’re right.” you mumble. “everyone else grew out of pretending. i didn’t.” dazai is quiet for a long moment.

“do you know what i think?”

you shake your head.

“i think the world has spent a very long time convincing people that surviving should look the same for everyone. for some people, surviving meant becoming stronger. for some people, it meant becoming colder. for you…”

he gently squeezes your hand.

“…it meant planting flowers or creating magical forests where nobody else could see them. i don’t think that’s something to be ashamed of.”

𓂃⋆.˚ there are still days when your imaginary world pulls at you so strongly that reality feels unbearably dull by comparison.

he’ll notice, of course, because he knows you.

instead of telling you to “come back to reality,” he’ll quietly ask, “walk with me?”

sometimes you’ll end up wandering through a park. sometimes along the river. sometimes nowhere in particular. eventually he’ll point toward the evening sky.

“look. those clouds almost look painted today.”

𓂃⋆.˚ another time it’ll be sunlight filtering through leaves. rain making circles across a puddle. an orange cat asleep in a bookstore window.

little things, really, because he’s never trying to prove your imaginary world isn’t beautiful. he’s only trying to remind you that this one occasionally is, too. which means he’s putting a lot of effort himself.

𓂃⋆.˚ months later, while the two of you are lying together on the couch, you quietly ask the question you’ve been terrified to say out loud.

“do you think i’m childish?”

he thinks about it, genuinely, then he smiles.

“no. i think you have a heart that refused to become ordinary. those aren’t the same thing. you’re different. but why would you ever choose to be ordinary like everyone else?”

you look at him for a long moment. “what if i never stop imagining?”

he reaches over and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“…then i hope…every now and then…you’ll come back and tell me what the flowers look like.”

because dazai never wanted to take that world away from you, he only wanted to make sure that eventually, little by little, this world started feeling safe enough that you didn’t always need to run from it.

[ginnykun]

“geto was tired” but gojo was also tired. (hidden inventory arc okinawa timeline)

geto would literally hate most of his fans who undermine gojo’s burden because geto HIMSELF knew how heavy it was, he saw his best friend get “killed” right in front of his eyes.

that’s why he strayed away from good sorcery, because he wanted to make a world where gojo wouldn’t have to carry all these expectations.

[ginnykun]

hello!! a bit of an odd req, but first i wanted to thank u for always making the reader gn :) as a guy it's actually really fucking hard to find even fluffy one-shots where the reader is gender neutral so i really appreciate that lol

wanted to ask if it were okay to ask for a req where the character defends their r/s w the reader from someone who disapproves of their r/s? doesnt have to be in a strictly queer sense (your readers ARE usually gender neutral for a reason obvs), but you get the vibe ish i hope :")) feel free to ignore this if it's too odd!! i was thinking this mainly with satoru, but dazai, ranpo, chuuya, and qifrey are also my favs but please don't feel pressured to do all of them since ik you've started school back up already :)

hiiiii! you’re so sweeeeet! i’m so so honored and glad that you feel safe in my blog and i always try to make everyone feel as welcomed and valued as possible but i’m also scared to write the wrong things :,)

absolutelyyy i like the request! also yeah i’m so sorry i couldn’t reply sooner but rn i have so many acting courses in the uk and i’m busy :<

i also think it’s really fitting for gojo because one of his defining traits is that he simply doesn’t care about other people’s approval once he’s made up his mind!

gojo satoru:

𓂃⋆.˚ people tend to forget that beneath all the jokes and teasing, gojo can become frighteningly serious when someone he loves is involved. he’ll let people insult him all day if they want. he’ll laugh it off, make a stupid face and somehow turn it into a joke. but the second someone decides to drag you into it, something about his expression changes. the smile doesn’t disappear completely but it just stops reaching his eyes. they’re dead.

𓂃⋆.˚ whether it’s because you’re another man, another woman, a civilian, someone weaker than him, someone older, younger, from another clan or no clan at all… it genuinely doesn’t matter. people always seem to think they have an opinion on who the strongest sorcerer “should” be with. gojo, unfortunately for them, has never cared much about other people’s expectations.

𓂃⋆.˚ the first few comments don’t even get a reaction. someone makes a passive-aggressive remark about how “you could do better,” or how “they’re an odd choice.” he simply smiles and changes the subject because he knows those people are looking for a reaction. denying them one is much more satisfying.

but eventually somebody crosses the line. maybe they laugh. maybe they ask, “seriously satoru? them?”

the room goes dead silent. gojo tilts his head slightly. “yeah.”

the smile is still there when he adds, “them.”

whoever made the comment usually assumes he’ll laugh along. instead he folds his arms. “you know what’s funny? i wasn’t asking for permission.”

there’s no anger in his voice and everyone suddenly realizes he means every word.

𓂃⋆.˚ if someone tries arguing that you’re “not good enough” for him, he’ll actually laugh. a genuine one laugh.

“have you met me?”

they blink.

“i’m the difficult one.” then he’ll casually point toward you. “they’re incredibly patient. frankly, i’m the one who got lucky.” he says it so naturally that it takes you a second to process what just came out of his mouth.

𓂃⋆.˚ afterward you’ll quietly mumble, “you know that wasn’t true.” he looks at you like you’ve said something ridiculous.

“yes it was.”

“…satoru.”

“i’m serious.” he actually is.

𓂃⋆.˚ if somebody disapproves because they think dating the strongest sorcerer should somehow be more… prestigious… he’ll become almost amused.

“it’s adorable that you think power has anything to do with love. that’s probably why none of you look particularly happy.”

it’s the kind of comment that completely ends the conversation.

𓂃⋆.˚ if it’s one of the higher-ups making subtle remarks, he’s even less patient, of course. he’s spent years listening to them tell him how he should live, who he should protect and what he should become. adding “who he should love” to that list is simply exhausting.

“you’ve already tried controlling the rest of my life. this part isn’t yours. it’s ours.”

𓂃⋆.˚ afterward, once you’re alone together, you’ll usually ask if he regrets saying something.

he’ll blink. “why would i?”

“because they were judging you because of me.”

he reaches over, absentmindedly fixing a wrinkle in your sleeve before answering.

“they’ve judged me my entire life. that’s nothing new.” then he gently flicks your forehead.

“what i won’t let them do is make you feel like loving you is something i need to defend.”

his voice softens. “…because i don’t. i chose you. if somebody has a problem with that…” he shrugs. “sounds exhausting for them.”

𓂃⋆.˚ later that night, when the whole situation is long over, he’ll flop dramatically onto the couch beside you and rest his head in your lap as if nothing happened.

“…you know…i still don’t understand why everyone acts so surprised.”

“about what?”

“that i fell in love with someone who’s kind.” he smiles up at you. “seems pretty obvious to me.”

then, because he’s still gojo satoru after all, he ruins the sweet moment almost immediately. “although i am still objectively the prettier one.”

“yeah, keep dreaming.”

“see? this is exactly why i married—”

“we’re not married.”

“yet.”

somehow, even after standing up to the entire world for you, he’d still end the day trying to make you laugh. because if there’s one opinion that has ever truly mattered to him, it was always yours.

qifrey:

𓂃⋆.˚ qifrey is one of the gentlest people you’ll ever meet, but people often mistake gentleness for weakness. they assume that because he smiles so easily and avoids unnecessary conflict, he’ll quietly accept disrespect to keep the peace. the unfortunate surprise for them is that qifrey is perfectly capable of standing his ground when it actually matters. and if the conversation is about you, there isn’t much that matters more.

𓂃⋆.˚ in the atelier, gossip spreads ridiculously fast. maybe another witch quietly wonders why someone as respected as qifrey would choose you. maybe they think you aren’t talented enough, or that you’re “too ordinary” for someone with his reputation. he hears every word, but he doesn’t interrupt immediately. he waits until they’re finished because he’s always believed people deserve the chance to reveal exactly what kind of person they are before he responds.

𓂃⋆.˚ when the room finally falls quiet, he simply smiles.

“are you finished?”

the other witch nods. qifrey folds his hands inside his sleeves.

“good.”

“then allow me to correct one misunderstanding.”

everyone expects him to defend himself, but instead he defends you.

“you keep speaking as though they were chosen for me. they weren’t. i chose them.” he says it so calmly that nobody can interrupt him.

“i know exactly who they are. their kindness, their flaws, their fears, and i would still choose them.”

there isn’t a single ounce of uncertainty in his voice.

𓂃⋆.˚ if someone dares imply that you’re holding him back, he actually looks confused.

“holding me back?” then he smiles to himself. “they’re one of the reasons i keep moving forward.”

𓂃⋆.˚ afterward, when you’re alone together, you’ll apologize because you hate that people keep dragging him into conversations like that.

before you can even finish apologizing, qifrey reaches over and cups your face.

“don’t. their opinions belong to them. mmy choice belongs to me,” he brushes his thumb across your cheek. “and i have never once regretted choosing you.”

chuuya nakahara:

𓂃⋆.˚ unlike gojo, chuuya has almost no patience for people sticking their noses into his personal life. he already spends enough of his time dealing with idiots at work. the last thing he needs is someone deciding they get an opinion on who he comes home to.

whether it’s another executive, someone in the mafia or even an acquaintance making a snide comment, he gives them exactly one chance to rethink what they’ve just said.

“what was that?”

they usually laugh awkwardly. “nothing.”

lthat’s what i thought.”

𓂃⋆.˚ if they have enough nerve to keep talking, though, he’s done being polite.

“you don’t have to understand why i’m with them. good thing i’m not dating you.”

that usually ends the conversation immediately.

𓂃⋆.˚ one thing about chuuya is that he absolutely refuses to let anyone make you feel like you’re something he has to justify. if you’re standing beside him when someone says something rude, he’ll instinctively step just a little closer to you because he wants you to know exactly whose side he’s on.

𓂃⋆.˚ if someone starts listing reasons why you supposedly aren’t “right” for him, he honestly looks offended.

“you’ve met them for what? ten minutes? i’ve loved them for years. which one of us do you think has the better idea of who they are?”

it’s one of those moments where his confidence isn’t arrogance: it’s just certainty.

𓂃⋆.˚ later, you’ll quietly tell him he didn’t have to argue with them. he looks at you like you’ve completely missed the point.

“i wasn’t arguing. i was correcting them.”

you laugh. “there’s a difference?”

“yeah.”

he gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

“an argument means i care what they think. i obviously don’t. i care what you think.”

dazai osamu:

𓂃⋆.˚ dazai almost never reacts immediately: in fact, if someone makes a rude comment about your relationship, his first response is usually a joke. he’ll smile, laugh lightly and say something completely ridiculous because he’s trying to decide whether the person is simply awkward or intentionally cruel.

unfortunately for them, dazai is very good at telling the difference.

𓂃⋆.˚ if he realizes they’re genuinely trying to insult you, the entire atmosphere changes. his smile stays exactly where it is but suddenly it feels colder. that kind of shift that makes him truly terrifying.

“interesting. you’ve formed quite a strong opinion.”

the other person smiles, assuming he’s agreeing. “yes.”

dazai tilts his head. “…without knowing the first thing about them.”

silence.

“that’s usually not how intelligent people make decisions.” he never raises his voice and the person suddenly realizes they’ve just been dismantled without him saying a single openly insulting thing.

𓂃⋆.˚ if someone claims you aren’t good enough for him, he genuinely laughs.

“that’s adorable. if you knew me even half as well as they do you’d probably be asking why they’re settling for me.”

𓂃⋆.˚ dazai has never romanticized himself. he knows exactly how difficult he can be to love, which is why he’ll never tolerate someone treating you as though you’re the one who isn’t enough.

𓂃⋆.˚ later that evening, you’ll quietly ask if the comments bothered him.

he shrugs. “not particularly.”

“really?”

“people misunderstand me every day. i’m used to it.” then his expression softens. “what bothered me was watching someone who’d never taken the time to know you speak as though they had.”

he reaches for your hand almost absentmindedly. “they don’t get to decide whether you’re worthy of being loved. i already did that.”

he smiles with that small, genuine smile he rarely shows anyone. “…and i’d make the same choice every single time.”

[ginnykun]

i was thinking about how reader teaching yuji how to drive would be super funny :) i love your work btw!

YESSSS IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS!!

thank you soooooo much for leaving a yuji request i needed it <3333

yuji itadori:

𓂃⋆.˚ before you even get in the car, yuji is already ridiculously excited. i mean very very excited. he’s walking around it like it’s some rare artifact, opening random doors, pressing buttons he’s definitely not supposed to press and asking approximately thirty questions before you’ve even handed him the keys. by the time you finally sit in the passenger seat, you’re already laughing because you haven’t even started the lesson and he’s managed to turn the windshield wipers on twice.

“okay, first rule…”

“yep!”

“don’t touch anything until i tell you.”

“oh.” he slowly takes his hand off a random lever, pouting sadly.

“was this important?”

“very.”

“oops…”

𓂃⋆.˚ despite all the chaos, he’s actually a really attentive student. the second you explain something, he listens with his entire body. he’s nodding so enthusiastically you almost wonder if he’s absorbing the information through sheer optimism. every instruction gets a confident, “got it!” even if five seconds later he immediately forgets which pedal is which.

𓂃⋆.˚ the very first time he starts the car, he jumps because he wasn’t expecting the engine to rumble.

“what! it growled!”

“yuji.”

“but it did!”

“it’s a car.”

“…well, it’s an angry car.”

𓂃⋆.˚ you spend the first ten minutes in an empty parking lot because you refuse to let him anywhere near actual traffic until you’re convinced everyone will survive the experience. meanwhile yuji is gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, staring straight ahead with the kind of concentration usually reserved for fighting cursed spirits.

“relax your shoulders.”

“i am relaxed.”

“…yuji.”

“okay maybe i’m a little relaxed.”

“that’s not how that works.”

𓂃⋆.˚ one of the funniest things about teaching him is that he’s constantly narrating everything he’s doing out loud because he’s terrified of messing up.

“foot on the brake…”

“good.”

“checking mirrors…”

“good.”

“not running over my incredibly patient and beautiful instructor…”

you blink. “was that part of the checklist?”

his ears immediately turn bright pink. “no. that one just slipped out.”

𓂃⋆.˚ he’s surprisingly good at parking. somehow.

turning? terrible.

parallel parking? hopeless.

but the moment you ask him to reverse into a parking space, he does it almost perfectly.

you stare at him. “have you done this before?”

“…no?”

“then how?”

he shrugs. “i kinda guessed.”

you honestly don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned. perhaps gojo taught him in some ways, and if that’s the case that’d be the most efficient thing he has ever done.

𓂃⋆.˚ because of his ridiculous physical abilities, he has to learn very quickly that driving isn’t about reacting as fast as possible.

the first time a squirrel runs across the road, he slams the brakes so hard that both of you lurch forward.

“hey! it’s okay.”

“i saved him!!”

“yuji.”

“…yeah?”

“…the squirrel was still on the sidewalk.”

“oh.”

𓂃⋆.˚ every single lesson somehow ends with the two of you getting snacks afterward because driving makes him hungry. he’ll insist it’s scientifically proven that learning burns calories, and although you know he’s making it up, it’s impossible to argue when he’s already walking toward the convenience store with that hopeful grin on his face. it’d eventually evolve into ramen or chicken wings, depending on the mood.

𓂃⋆.˚ after a few weeks, he starts getting noticeably better. he still occasionally forgets to cancel the turn signal after making a turn, and every now and then he’ll wave way too enthusiastically at pedestrians who let him merge, but he drives with the same kindness he approaches everything else. he’s patient, careful and genuinely wants everyone around him to get home safely.

𓂃⋆.˚ the day he finally passes his driving test, he’s practically vibrating with excitement before he even gets home. the second he sees you, he doesn’t bother trying to act cool.

he runs straight toward you. “i paaaassed!”

before you can even congratulate him properly, he’s already wrapped you in the biggest hug imaginable, lifting you clean off the ground without thinking.

“yuji—”

“i paaaassed!”

“yes, i heard you.”

“the examiner said i was a safe driver!”

“…you are.”

he sets you back down, still grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “couldn’t have done it without you.”

𓂃⋆.˚ a week later, he insists on taking you for a drive to thank you for teaching him. ten minutes into the trip, he’s driving perfectly. smooth turns, perfect speed, safe distance.

then he spots a dog sticking its head out of another car’s window.

“LOOK!!”

he points with his whole arm.

“eyes on the road.”

“RIGHT.”

he immediately puts both hands back on the wheel.

“…but did you see the dog?”

you laugh so hard you’re crying. “yes, yuji. i saw the dog.”

he smiles to himself, glancing at you for just a second before looking back at the road.

“this is nice.”

“what is?”

“driving with you.”

“i kinda hope we do this a lot.”

𓂃⋆.˚ and even after he becomes a perfectly capable driver, he’ll still ask you to come along whenever he has the chance.

[ginnykun]

hey queen✨✨

I would like to know how Hawks would handle a (preferably female) reader who has a Crow quirk and are just basically a glorified hoarder who has the gut urge to give him something shiny and gifts him candy wrappers or buttons (generally just stuff they find lying around that they see as pretty) and he just doesn’t know what to do with it yk?? I’d love your thoughts ❤️❤️

-🐦‍⬛✨

HAAAAAAAAAWKSSSSSS YESYESYESYESSS

this is so oddly specific and it fits hawks perfectly because he’s used to people giving him expensive things, sponsorship gifts and fan letters and then his girlfriend proudly hands him sth like a bottle cap haha

hawks (keigo takami):

𓂃⋆.˚ the very first gift you ever give him is a completely ordinary button you found on the sidewalk. to anyone else, it’s just a button. to you, though, it’s the prettiest shade of deep emerald green you’ve ever seen, and the sunlight made it sparkle when you walked past it. you proudly place it in his hand with the biggest smile, almost bouncing on your feet while waiting for his reaction. keigo stares at the button… then at you… then back at the button. for a split second he genuinely thinks he’s missing some kind of inside joke or viral meme that has been trending behind his back.

“you found this?”

you nod enthusiastically. “it’s shinyyy.”

“…it is shiny.”

“i thought you’d like it.”

his heart melts on the spot.

𓂃⋆.˚ after that, the gifts never stop. one day it’s an unusually smooth pebble. the next it’s a candy wrapper that’s holographic enough to catch the light in rainbow colors. then it’s a little brass key that probably doesn’t open anything anymore. every single object is presented with complete sincerity, as if you’ve discovered buried treasure.

𓂃⋆.˚ at first, he has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to do with any of it. he can’t exactly wear a bottle cap or frame an old marble. but throwing them away feels… wrong. because every single time you hand him one, you’re looking at him like you’ve just found the most beautiful thing in the world and decided he deserved to have it.

𓂃⋆.˚ so he starts keeping them. every single one. eventually his apartment has a small wooden box tucked away on one of the shelves. if someone opened it expecting jewelry or important documents, they’d instead find feathers you’d dropped during molting season, colorful buttons, bits of sea glass, shiny coins from countries neither of you had visited, a tiny bell that doesn’t ring anymore and approximately seventeen candy wrappers. nobody is allowed to touch the box.

𓂃⋆.˚ one afternoon you’re walking together after patrol when you suddenly stop mid-sentence.

“hold on.” before he can ask why, you’ve already wandered toward the edge of the sidewalk. he watches you crouch down, pick something up and wipe it carefully against your sleeve.

you then jog back over with the brightest smile imaginable. “look!”

it’s a washer, that little flat metal ring used in furniture assembly. “it’s shaped like a tiny donut.”

he laughs so hard he nearly doubles over.

“it is.”

“you can have it.”

he takes it with the same seriousness someone else might accept an engagement ring. “i’ll treasure it.” somehow he actually does.

𓂃⋆.˚ his sidekicks slowly begin noticing strange things around his office.

“hawks, why is there a bottle cap on your desk?”

“gift.”

“…and the marble?”

“also a gift.”

“the feather tied with pink ribbon?”

“that’s a long story.”

he says it with such complete seriousness that nobody questions him anymore.

𓂃⋆.˚ he absolutely starts encouraging it without realizing. whenever he notices something especially reflective while out on patrol, instead of ignoring it, he’ll catch himself thinking, she’d probably love that.

suddenly he’s the one crouching down to pick up unusually pretty stones.

𓂃⋆.˚ after that he starts bringing little shiny things home for you.

“babybird, look what i found this during patrol.”

“keigo.”

“yeah?”

“…that’s literally foil.”

“yeah, but it’s sparkly. look!”

you immediately gasp. “it’s beautiful!!”

𓂃⋆.˚ now you’re both collecting shiny garbage together.

𓂃⋆.˚ one of the sweetest things about him is that he never laughs at you. he’ll laugh because some of the situations are objectively ridiculous, but he never makes you feel childish for seeing beauty in ordinary things. he knows enough about bird quirks to understand that the instinct is real, but more importantly, he loves the fact that every time you find something beautiful, your first thought is always, keigo would like this.

𓂃⋆.˚ sometimes you’ll absentmindedly play with the zipper on his jacket because it’s particularly reflective. other times you’ll steal his sunglasses for five whole minutes because the lenses catch the light in a way that’s endlessly fascinating to you. he’ll pretend to complain the entire time.

𓂃⋆.˚ “babybird.”

“hm?”

“those are prescription.”

“they’re shiny.”

“that’s not an argument.”

“it is to me.”

he sighs dramatically. “i’ve been defeated.”

𓂃⋆.˚ after a few years together, your collection quietly becomes your collection. shelves in your apartment hold jars full of polished stones, old keys, colorful glass and tiny trinkets that would look like junk to anyone else. every now and then, when you’re out together, one of you will spot something sparkling at exactly the same moment.

you’ll both point, then look at each other.

“treasure?”

“treasure!”

𓂃⋆.˚ his favorite part is the way you gently place every little gift into his palm, looking at him with complete certainty that, out of everyone in the world, he’s the person who deserves your brightest treasures.

𓂃⋆.˚ keigo has spent most of his life receiving medals, expensive gifts and praise from strangers, but somehow nothing ever makes him smile quite as much as the tiny purple candy wrapper that’s still folded carefully inside his wallet because one afternoon his sweet little crow looked at it, thought it was beautiful, and immediately decided it belonged to him.

[ginnykun]

i miss my boy yuji soooo much i’d love to write more about him!!!

any ideas??? requests??? thanks <33