Can't touch me, like Gojo—Look good in all my photos
He can't keep back the laugh that breaks free as she holds up dessert in all its sacred glory for his understanding. "Well, you are the secret ingredient," he reminds her, and while he'd only thought it funny at the time, the same way sprinkles for him likely sounded to her, he's found that to be utterly true for his life. All this time, he'd been missing the secret ingredient to happiness, until her.
There's a fresh sense of relief that brightens his gaze. "I'm so glad I'm not the only one who doesn't understand it." He thought perhaps she not only understood it, but might even want something like it, because understanding always makes it easier to accept things. She has reassured him with every insistence that it's them and them alone, that they won't be doling out hallpasses, and there's a certainty in that he hadn't realized had been undone by an assumption. She does not embrace Danta because she upholds every choice he makes, but she backs the man making them, and his right to choose.
His smile sparks again at ditto, the simple, single word continuing to perfectly encapsulate a feeling and trade it back without devaluing it—if anything, he feels it makes it more potent, as if each letter now carries profound weight. "Maybe, if we're cupcakes...they're—cookies." The education of desserts continues, and perhaps there is nothing more untamed by human nature than romance and sugar. "Cupcakes come as one, but cookies can sometimes spread out and connect to each other on the baking sheet."
Gladly he takes the floundering (because fish) shape of her into his grip, noodles brushing scales as his chin tucks in and their noses skim. "Mm," he agrees, on relationships not being a simple matter, an arm wrapping around her as she presses in on his chest, heart to heart. Everything else she says, the subtle ways she threads their hands together and keeps him steady in her space, it feels like this is love more than a kiss could hope to be. Little compares to being truly seen and supported, and he's ever grateful that she is exactly who she is, and that every moment with her, even the hard ones, feels better than any one without her.
The roll of her lips over his knuckles repeats like a flutter in his pulse, his chest suddenly buoyant. "Gods, I missed you," he confesses down to her, gaze skipping across hers before he leans in to press a long, soft kiss to her forehead, just beneath the lip of the fish cap, although his own hat makes the whole ordeal far less graceful than usual. She's incredible, and he doesn't feel he deserves her, or that the world does for that matter really, but fortunately both him and the planet are lucky enough to cherish her. "Your friends are important to you, so they're important to me. I'm just sorry I made it a bit worse...I'll make it up to them."
Taking her in hand, he steps back towards the couch, pulling her along with him so they can both settle comfortably. "Okay," he says with an inhale once they sit, facing her with a new seriousness that's at war with his hat. "What you said earlier, that hallpasses and whatever is what works best for them, I want to make sure we know what works best for us." Her orange hairtie grabs his attention, and a small smile edges in at the sight of it. "No hallpasses," he agrees, just in case that wasn't clear that they both agreed on that front. "Buuuut, what about our last names, now that, I mean not yet since we're still, but when we do." He fumbles around the topic, unsure of what the outcome will be, or even what he wants. "I think your name carries more meaning than mine," he admits without concern. "So I understand if you want to keep it, but then should I change mine?" He's never considered not being Ashborn, but now is a time when he just might. "Although then it'll be much harder for you to yell-tease me," he grins.
There's a fresh sense of relief that brightens his gaze. "I'm so glad I'm not the only one who doesn't understand it." He thought perhaps she not only understood it, but might even want something like it, because understanding always makes it easier to accept things. She has reassured him with every insistence that it's them and them alone, that they won't be doling out hallpasses, and there's a certainty in that he hadn't realized had been undone by an assumption. She does not embrace Danta because she upholds every choice he makes, but she backs the man making them, and his right to choose.
His smile sparks again at ditto, the simple, single word continuing to perfectly encapsulate a feeling and trade it back without devaluing it—if anything, he feels it makes it more potent, as if each letter now carries profound weight. "Maybe, if we're cupcakes...they're—cookies." The education of desserts continues, and perhaps there is nothing more untamed by human nature than romance and sugar. "Cupcakes come as one, but cookies can sometimes spread out and connect to each other on the baking sheet."
Gladly he takes the floundering (because fish) shape of her into his grip, noodles brushing scales as his chin tucks in and their noses skim. "Mm," he agrees, on relationships not being a simple matter, an arm wrapping around her as she presses in on his chest, heart to heart. Everything else she says, the subtle ways she threads their hands together and keeps him steady in her space, it feels like this is love more than a kiss could hope to be. Little compares to being truly seen and supported, and he's ever grateful that she is exactly who she is, and that every moment with her, even the hard ones, feels better than any one without her.
The roll of her lips over his knuckles repeats like a flutter in his pulse, his chest suddenly buoyant. "Gods, I missed you," he confesses down to her, gaze skipping across hers before he leans in to press a long, soft kiss to her forehead, just beneath the lip of the fish cap, although his own hat makes the whole ordeal far less graceful than usual. She's incredible, and he doesn't feel he deserves her, or that the world does for that matter really, but fortunately both him and the planet are lucky enough to cherish her. "Your friends are important to you, so they're important to me. I'm just sorry I made it a bit worse...I'll make it up to them."
Taking her in hand, he steps back towards the couch, pulling her along with him so they can both settle comfortably. "Okay," he says with an inhale once they sit, facing her with a new seriousness that's at war with his hat. "What you said earlier, that hallpasses and whatever is what works best for them, I want to make sure we know what works best for us." Her orange hairtie grabs his attention, and a small smile edges in at the sight of it. "No hallpasses," he agrees, just in case that wasn't clear that they both agreed on that front. "Buuuut, what about our last names, now that, I mean not yet since we're still, but when we do." He fumbles around the topic, unsure of what the outcome will be, or even what he wants. "I think your name carries more meaning than mine," he admits without concern. "So I understand if you want to keep it, but then should I change mine?" He's never considered not being Ashborn, but now is a time when he just might. "Although then it'll be much harder for you to yell-tease me," he grins.
Kaisel
Sexy jutsu, I feel like Naruto—Fightin' demons in my head like I'm Itadori
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
