be it a bouquet of your favorite flower, a delicate blossom tucked into your hair with reverence, a pink camelia in your favorite vase whenever you got sick— or a forget me not awaiting you on your shared bedside table whenever you needed some time to yourself, as if to say, take your time. i love you and i'm not going anywhere.

he may or may not have ended up investing in flower language solely for you. it was another way of expressing his love for you in that quiet, tender way— yet no less devoted.

but never in a million years had he imagined that he'd be standing before you after returning home—his beloved wife—one day, presenting a single flower to him after a sweet greeting, the petals adorning his favorite shade, all while looking up at him with a playful smile but affectionate gaze—the soft light of the living room adding a gentle glow to your features.

for a moment he was… stunned. unmoving— struggling to find the right words.

“for… me?” he asked at last, voice quieter than he intended for it to be.

you clutched the flower to your chest, mock-hurt. “what, don't tell me you don't like it? that's a shame..”

he exhaled in what could've almost been a chuckle, the corners of his lips unmistakably twitching.

“...but why? you didn't have to.”

you shook your head in disapproval. “don't be silly, baby. guys deserve flowers every once in a while, too, y’know.” you grinned up at him, taking his hand in your own before placing the flower on his palm, gently closing his fingers around it with your own. “it's yours now.”

he stared at you for a moment before his gaze dropped down to your hand clasped around his, the flower resting in between.

perhaps he shouldn't have been this surprised over receiving a flower. it wasn't a concept he'd ever thought of applying to himself, and yet here you were, giving him a flower like it was the most natural and obvious thing to do.

“that thought never crossed my mind, but.. thank you, love.”

he took the hand you were holding his with and lifted it to his lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. you laughed softly, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek in return before ushering him inside for dinner, all while the flower stayed in his grasp. gentle and reverent.

it was light in weight, yet heavy in its meaning.

he'd placed the flower in a vase on top of his desk, serving as a constant reminder of you whenever he was working. he'd find himself spacing off while staring at it, his lips subconsciously curving into a soft smile when he recalled the ghost of your warmth lingering on his skin from the night you placed the flower in his palm. it continued—until he noticed that it was starting to wilt.

and he simply couldn't let that happen. not when you were the one who gave it to him.

so one night, when you'd already gone to bed, he found himself carefully pressing the petals to his journal— where your reminder would lie within, safely tucked away with care.

and you had no clue about it until one day, you saw a petal peeking out from his journal while he was writing down on it with those familiar, elegant strokes.

“wait… is that—”

his movements stilled.

he didn't say anything.

just cleared his throat, lowered his head just a bit more and continued writing all while the tips of his ears turned a delightful shade of red.

because what could he say?

yes, he did keep it. because anything from you was meant to be treasured.

♡ geto suguru, fushiguro toji, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso, gojo satoru, sylus, caleb, shinazugawa sanemi, iguro obanai, akaza, kokushibo, jugram haschwalth, bazz-b, kurosaki ichigo, aizen sosuke, kenpachi zaraki, hitsugaya toshiro, grimmjow, ichimaru gin, calcharo, childe, diluc, eren yeager, levi ackermann, uchiha sasuke

would burn himself to keep you warm;

♡ nanami kento, itadori yuuji, okkotsu yuuta, zayne, rafayel, xavier, sylus, rengoku kyojuro, kamado tanjiro, agatsuma zenitsu, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei, tsugikuni yoriichi, sabito, ichimaru gin, ukitake jushiro, hisagi shuhei, kuchiki byakuya, ishida uryuu, hirako shinji, ishida ryuken, kyoraku shunsui, coyote starrk, ulquiorra cifer, brant, xiangli yao, jiyan, armin arlert, uchiha itachi, hatake kakashi

would walk through hell to reach you;

♡ nanami kento, fushiguro toji, fushiguro megumi, zayne, rafayel, sylus, uzui tengen, rengoku kyojuro, tsugikuni yoriichi, hashibira inosuke, kurosaki ichigo, ishida uryuu, abarai renji, kyoraku shunsui, grimmjow, jiyan, calcharo, wriothesley, diluc, reiner braun, jean kirschtein, uzumaki naruto

would rebuild a world for you from the ashes;

♡ gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, ryomen sukuna, geto suguru, sylus, rafayel, xavier, caleb, kamado tanjiro, rengoku kyojuro, uzui tengen, kyoraku shunsui, ukitake jushiro, aizen sosuke, urahara kisuke, brant, xiangli yao, wriothesley, neuvillette, ayato, alhaitham, eren yeager, armin arlert

so stsg w lwk like each other but the main focus will be the reader?

will the stsg/reader have they also dating? or will they be platonic? :]

satoru still remembered that day all too clearly.

the day suguru had betrayed jujutsu high and left. the day he had found you in your shared dorms— once a place for three, now for two.

the day he had seen you cry.

he remembered halting his movements upon reaching the front door, fingertips twitching with hesitancy, jaw tight and shoulders tense. he knew you were already in there, and he knew he was never going to see suguru’s presence fill up the space ever again.

yet, with a shaky exhale, he had entered anyway, each step forward weighing as heavy as his heart at that moment.

confusion settled into his features.

you weren't there. at least, not where he had expected you to be.

blue gaze veiled behind the familiar dark lenses swept across the room as he stepped in, silently scanning his surroundings. the dorm felt… too empty. too quiet. and his breath caught at the sight of the slightly ajar door to suguru’s bedroom— what was once his, anyway.

but suguru wasn't going to be there. that was the bitter truth.

he walked towards the door, cautious with his steps as he peered inside.

and there you were, sitting on the edge of suguru's bed, two forgotten mugs of tea—one of them being suguru’s mug— resting on the table which had gone long cold. satoru knew you’d subconsciously brewed the tea for you and suguru out of habit like you did every evening, except only this time, he wasn't there to take it with murmured gratitude and a smile.

the weight of the realisation settled onto him once again. a slow, cruel sensation.

he swallowed, mind scrambling to come up with something—anything—only to pause midway when he noticed the way your shoulders shook slightly, the moonlight adding a taunting shimmer to your cheeks, eyes staring at a space ahead of you. unblinking. empty.

you seemed to be… unaware.

satoru felt helpless at that moment. he didn't know what to do— didn't know whether to walk away and give you space or let his presence be known to remind you that you weren't alone. that he hadn't left. that he was still there.

he thought of suguru— how he probably would've known what to do in situations like these.

but in the end, he chose the latter.

because suguru wasn't there this time.

gently pushing the door open with a slow creak, he stepped in. you blinked once, then twice, as though only realising now that you had been crying, the cold air making your damp cheeks feel colder.

and you hated how a part of you was hoping that suguru had returned.

you stayed silent, unmoving. so did he.

then, he moved, kneeling in front of you, peering at you above his sunglasses.

you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the way his eyes were devoid of the usual playful glimmer within them, instead replaced by something that shouldn't have been there. something you hadn't wished to see again— not again after what had happened with riko.

satoru didn't know what to do. what to say.

he reached up after a moment, hesitantly, taking your hands in his by your knuckles, and your heart ached at the slight tremor within them. he rubbed slow circles atop your knuckles, his gaze now lowered— yearning to soothe you the only way he knew how to; his hands trembling with the need to fix this. to fix the remnants of what suguru had left behind.

you exhaled, willing your voice to come back, although it hadn't come out as strong as you hoped for it to be. hoarse. small. barely above a whisper.

“satoru…”

his head snapped up at your voice, noticing within a heartbeat the fresh tears beginning to slip down, staining your cheeks with the quiet ache you couldn't put into words— with a rawness that made his chest tighten.

“i’m.. here. i’m still here.”

and that's all it took.

he remembered how you had leaned down, burying your face in his shoulder, your tears dampening his uniform. he remembered the way his own arms had slid up around you without a second thought, tightening around you as though he, too, was anchoring himself to you. like he, too, was reminding himself that you were still here.

and he remembered that flicker of selfishness in his chest at that moment.

because it wasn't just you he was trying to steady with his arms around you.

it steadied him, too.

you didn't wail that night. didn't utter a word.

just the silent tears and his presence reminding you that you still had your best friend with you.

and now, exactly a decade later, satoru found himself in the same exact situation.

except this time, it wasn't in your once shared dorms— no, it was within the house you and satoru had moved into together after finishing jujutsu high, all while the ghost of what could've been—if suguru hadn't left— lingered. the same house where the two of you had decided to become teachers. the same house you had eventually welcomed megumi and tsumiki into after you and satoru took responsibility for them.

except this time, there wasn't the faintest flicker of hope knowing suguru was still alive—and somewhere—wondering if one day, he'll ever come back.

suguru was gone.

and he was never going to come back again.

you hadn't cried earlier. not when suguru uttered his final words with that smile and the last one you'd ever see. not when satoru stepped back to let you have your final moment with him. not when you and satoru decided you wouldn't give his body to the higher ups. not when yuuta had asked if it was one of you who found his student id for him. not when you found yourself saying those words once again.

“no, our best friend did.”

“...our one and only.”

but now, you were.

and maybe this time, your tears were just a little louder.

but satoru was still there, holding you in his arms.

and you were still there, alive and breathing and here in his arms.

it all unfolded during one ordinary morning— until it ended up being anything but ordinary— when you presented the device to him like an ancient relic uncovered from the deepest depths of the earth, all while saying something along the lines of, “it's a social experiment. a precious opportunity to strengthen our bond and explore the art of empathy."

him, being the ever-dutiful husband, naturally found himself agreeing to try it.

long story short, it humbled him deeply.

you thought he was already attentive during your cycle. which, to be truthful, he was. but now? you realised that you were wrong. very, very wrong.

and now, you were being greeted by your husband's face in the wee hours of the morning through one cracked eye, the mattress dipping with his weight as he stared at you with concern etched into his features.

then came the first inquiry.

“good morning, sweetheart. are you in pain?”

you blinked, groggily sitting up, an ache beginning to form in the deep depths of your system. “oh… i guess so?”

affirming that you were indeed going through that time of the month—courtesy of him having tracked your period— he gave you a solemn nod before standing up, disappearing into the kitchen and reappearing with a trey in hand.

you squinted. a fully prepared breakfast that looked too beautiful to consume. a heating pad. tea. water. chocolates. painkillers. and… a checklist.

you took a peek.

heating pad prepared. favorite blanket and pillows fluffed up. comfort snacks placed in her favorite bowl within reach. romance dramas queued. sanitary products restocked. chores cleared.

your gaze darted between him and the trey, your mouth closing and opening as your brain scrambled to process the situation.

“here, use this,” he moved forward, fluffing up the pillow you were sleeping on from behind before gently nudging you back, securing the heating pad against your stomach. “there.”

you didn't know which one to do first. shed a few sparkly tears of gratitude or laugh and lung forward and drown him in kisses.

“y-you didn't have to do all that—”

“i wanted to. i must. you can't be saying outrageous things like that.”

he didn't allow you to lift a single finger throughout the day. checked in from time to time to make sure you were okay, brought you whatever you asked for, gave you a message even though you didn't ask for it, dropped everything to cook for you, and came in with tissues, perfectly brewed tea with your exact preferences, vitamins and an even fluffier blanket when you sneezed once. at some point, he asked if you would like him to carry you around the house—even the bathroom, by the way— because “why waste your energy when I'm here?”

by evening, you were lounging like the queen you are, surrounded by all the things needed to make your period session bearable and one prepared-and ready-to pamper-to-the-max husband.

you paused the drama you were watching, yanking him down towards you from where you were curled up on the couch, his warmth immediately wrapping around you.

his hand instinctively found your waist, the other braced beside your hip. “hey— what's up?”

you grinned, lifting yourself just a little to place a featherlight kiss against his jaw. “baby, thank you. i'm fine now. why don't you relax with me?”

he hesitated for a moment, although his hands betrayed him by tightening around your waist just a fraction.

“are you sure? what if—”

“no buts. i demand cuddles. right now.”

he chuckled, the sound coming out breathier than intended as he settled down beside you before pulling you on top of him, securing you against his chest, his fingers already gently combing through your hair. you sighed contently, nuzzling deeper, all while his heart nearly gave out at the gesture.

after a moment, he spoke.

“if you ever need anything, just tell me,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“then stay here. with me.”

you didn't have to repeat that. and you never had to doubt the royalty treatment coming up every month. although he'd still make sure to treat you like a queen outside of that month, too.

✦ cheesy past midnight kitchen things and slow dancing

⟡ he loves calling you his wife

✦ dramatically fussing over you for getting a papercut

⟡ chasing you around the house for a kiss

✦ he picks you up all the time

⟡ queen treatment during your period (and one humbled man)

and that would be picking you up— whenever and wherever.

falling asleep anywhere other than your bed was never an issue, not with him around. because rest assured— your very strong, very responsible and very devoted husband, has made it his mission to pick up his beloved wife and deliver her to safety and comfort.

you fell asleep on the couch while reading a book or watching a movie? no problem, he had already anticipated it. cue him carefully picking you up bridal style, grip firm but gentle, your head comfortably cradled against his chest. then, he'd start walking to your shared bedroom with slow steps— but not before staring at your sleeping face for a moment with a painfully tender gaze and pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. everytime you woke up, you would find yourself neatly tucked in bed with him holding you close to him or simply gazing at you in quiet awe, like you were the very embodiment of beauty itself. (to him, you were, even if you disagreed.)

now, that's not the only place where his strength came to use. whenever you decide to act stubborn and bratty, you'd best be prepared for a pair of large, steady and warm hands to suddenly settle themselves on your waist, hoisting you up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. he'd go on about his day just like that as if he didn't have a living, breathing, adult-sized human creating a fuss over his shoulder. he'll only put you down when he feels like it. or maybe if you manage to bribe him with some affection… (spoiler; it always works.)

another time would be when you're feeling particularly lazy to get up from bed in the morning. you don't want to get up? that's fine too, he'll let you latch onto him like a koala— your arms lazily looped around his neck, legs around his waist, and his hand keeping you steady while he casually takes a sip of his coffee with the other. that's his life now. happy wife, happy life.

however, there was also a time when he had you questioning your entire existence. you were standing in front of a drawer, very much distracted by an item in your hands. it just so happened that your husband needed to get something from the said drawer. his solution? extraordinary. lift you off the ground by your waist, relocate you to the side, get his drawer business done and casually go on and about with his day. you only processed this a minute later and he had no idea why you kept on staring at him like he had personally rewritten the laws of the universe itself.

long story short, he loved picking you up— even during times when it was unnecessary. why? because he simply could. and also because it was the perfect excuse to have you in his arms yet again.