4. café date ☕

5. amusement park date 🎡

6. movie date 🎬

7. museum date 🏛️

8. sea aquarium date 🐠

9. flower field date 🌼

10. painting date 🎨

11. arcade date 🕹️

12. karaoke date 🎤

13. ice skating date ⛸️

14. festival date 🎆

CHOOSE YOUR PARTNER:

jujutsu kaisen: gojo satoru, geto suguru, ryomen sukuna, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro, hiromi higuruma, yuki tsukumo, shoko ieiri, shiu kong, takuma ino, megumi fushiguro, itadori yuuji, yuta okkotsu, nobara kugisaki, maki zenin, mai zenin

blue lock: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, barou shouei, vivian hugo, bunny iglesias, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, oliver aiku, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, yukimiya kenyu, hiori yo, karasu tabito, otoya eita, niko ikki, gagamaru gin, julien loki

QUESTION TIME:

what’s your personality like? *feel free to elaborate

- shy

- easygoing

- playful

- extroverted

- reserved

- witty

- sarcastic

- talkative

- chaotic

what’s your love-language(s)?

- quality time

- acts of service

- words of affirmation

- physical touch

- gift giving

what stage of the relationship would you like this date to take place in?

- first date

- first few weeks of dating

- established relationship (already dating for a few years)

- happily married (newlyweds or married for years— you decide!)

what kind of atmosphere are you hoping for?

- something lighthearted with lots of teasing & laughter

- something romantic that feels straight out of a movie

- something spontaneous where anything can happen

- something grounded & realistic, where not everything goes according to plan but we still end up having an amazing time together

- surprise me!!!

pick one keepsake to remember your date by

- matching keychains

- matching bracelet

- photobooth strip

- plush/teddy bear

- handwritten note/letter

- bouquet of flowers (be specific: roses, tulips, lilies, sunflowers, peonies, baby’s breath, etc.)

- baked treats (be specific: chocolate chip cookies, brownies, cinnamon rolls, croissants, cupcakes, cheesecake, fruit tarts, etc.)

- others (jewellery, phone charms, candles, perfume, magnets, stickers, vinyl record, etc.)

sae’s expression softened just a fraction before he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you’re not too much,” he murmured against your skin.

“you’re carrying our baby. i’m sure i can handle a few mood swings,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your upper arm.

you sniffled at his comforting words, burying your face into his chest. instantly, he tightened his arms around you, holding you a little closer as his chin came to rest lightly atop your head.

not even a few minutes later, you suddenly sat up, eyes wide.

“sae… i really want b&j’s strawberry ice cream. with pickles.”

he blinked once, almost like he was trying to process the food combination.

“… pickles?”

you nodded seriously. “and spicy ramyeon.”

he stared at you for a long moment, clearly questioning every life choice that led him here. but he instantly stood up, grabbing his keys from the table. “i’ll be back in 45 minutes.”

you watched him head for the door, heart swelling even as fresh tears pricked your eyes.

“s-sae?”

he paused, looking back at you.

“thank you… for dealing with me. i know i’ve been a lot lately.”

his teal eyes softened as he walked back over, cupping your face with both hands before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “… this is what i’m here for.”

you let out a watery laugh, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheek. “i love you so much,” you mumbled, leaning into the warmth of his palms.

sae hummed, kissing the top of your head. “i love you too, amor.” he reached for his keys again, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“now stay put.”

𝐞𝐯𝐚’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 💌 ⸝⸝⸝ we love soft husband sae over here

your daughter’s entire face lit up at the sound of his voice. “papaaa!”

“say less.” he clapped his hands together, already walking over like this required immediate executive action. “we need lemons, cups, ice, a spare table, a big signboard, some posters, maybe balloons—”

“satoru…”

“—and possibly a mascot.”

“absolutely not.”

he paused before leaning down towards your daughter, lowering his voice into a very unsubtle whisper. “we’ll discuss the mascot later.”

your daughter nodded conspiratorially.

you sighed, already knowing you had lost because there was no absolutely way you were winning against the two of them once they started plotting together. you’d unfortunately learned that the hard way after several previous past father-daughter conspiracies.

and instead of opening the stand that very same day, the rest of the evening was dedicated to preparing for the grand opening.

your kitchen turned into a tiny business headquarters. lemons were lined up all across the counter, poster boards were spread over the dining table, and your daughter sat between you & satoru with markers scattered around her like she was planning a national campaign.

as usual, satoru took the entire thing far too seriously.

“the sign needs to be eye-catching,” he mused, tapping his chin like a professional consultant. “people should see it and immediately think, ‘wow, i need lemonade right now!’”

your daughter nodded, completely focused. “should i draw lemons?”

“absolutely, sweetie.”

“and hearts?”

“yeah, that too. it’ll be great for brand personality.”

you blinked at him. “brand… personality?”

he turned to you, looking slightly offended that you would even question his expertise. “babe, this is serious business.”

satoru even made her practice her ‘customer-service voice’ in the middle of the kitchen, standing across from her like he was evaluating a serious business pitch. “okay, now pretend i’m a customer,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “try selling me the lemonade.”

your daughter straightened immediately, holding up an imaginary cup. “h-hello there.. it’s hot outside, would you like some lemonade? it’s only one dollar!”

satoru gasped softly, looking thoroughly impressed. “whoa, that’s amazing, princess!”

“… satoru,” you sighed, pressing your lips together to smother the smile threatening to appear.

“what? she genuinely did great.”

you glanced back & forth between them before returning your attention to the lemons, already accepting the fact that the two of them were far beyond saving.

the next few hours passed in a blur of sticky fingers, lemon juice splattered all across the counter, and half-squeezed lemons piling up beside the cutting board.

by the time your daughter finally went to bed, the sign was finished, the lemonade pitchers were chilling in the fridge, paper cups were stacked neatly by the door & satoru had already started referring to tomorrow as the official grand opening of her lemonade empire.

—

the next afternoon, your front yard looked completely different.

what was supposed to be a simple folding table had turned into a full on production. a pastel yellow cloth covered the surface, balloons bobbed lazily from one corner, and the hand-painted sign leaned proudly against the front. beside the ice-cold pitcher of lemonade sat a stack of paper cups, striped straws, a little jar for spare change, and a handwritten menu card your daughter had insisted on decorating with doodled lemons & uneven hearts.

she stood behind the stand in her tiny apron, hair tied back with a ribbon and cheeks flushed with excitement. beside her, satoru adjusted the cups into a perfect little stack, sunglasses perched on his nose like he was personally overseeing a luxury lemonade launch.

“presentation matters,” he told her seriously. “people buy with their eyes first.”

“people buy because they’re thirsty,” you remarked from the porch.

satoru turned his head, giving you a slow, wounded look over the rim of his sunglasses. “and because of branding.”

your daughter nodded, suddenly serious. “y-yes… branding!”

“don’t encourage him,” you muttered.

—

the first few minutes were quiet.

a few cars rolled past. birds chirped lazily from the trees overhead. the ice inside the lemonade jug clinked softly whenever your daughter stirred it; her brows furrowed in concentration like she was guarding a priceless recipe.

not long after, a woman from a few houses down walked by with a canvas bag hanging from the crook of her elbow.

your daughter immediately straightened.

“f-fresh lemonade!” she called out, voice small but determined. “one dollar!”

the woman slowed, glancing towards the little stand.

satoru leaned down slightly, whispering, “project from your diaphragm, princess.”

your daughter inhaled deeply, squaring her tiny shoulders.“fresh lemonade! one dollar!” she repeated, louder this time.

the woman smiled, already charmed by her earnest little sales pitch. then her eyes shifted towards satoru standing beside the stand; one hand resting proudly on your daughter’s shoulder, his snowy-white hair catching the afternoon light like he had been placed there solely for advertising purposes.

you watched the woman’s expression instantly change.

“ohhh,” she cooed, smiling a little wider. “how cute.”

satoru who was completely aware of the effect he had on people, immediately flashed a dazzling smile at her. “she made it herself,” he boasted, gesturing towards the pitcher. “best lemonade in the neighborhood. and that’s coming from someone with very refined taste.”

your daughter beamed. “papa said i should add more ice because it’s hot...”

“smart business decision,” the woman said, laughing as she reached into her bag for a change.

eventually… one cup turned into two. then three, because apparently she ‘might as well bring some home for her husband.’ and as soon as she walked away, your daughter turned to satoru with wide eyes.

“papa!” she whispered. “i already made three dollars.”

satoru placed both hands on her shoulders, expression suddenly turning grave. “this is how empires begin,” he proclaimed with complete conviction. from the porch, you shook your head in amused disbelief.

not long after that, things started happening fast.

a couple of teenagers slowed down on their bikes, clearly intending to pass by until satoru picked up the sign & held it out with the confidence of a runway model selling lemonade.

“support local business!” he called out, tilting his sunglasses down just enough to look over the rim. “the owner is eight, hardworking, and extremely cute!”

“papa!” your daughter hissed, glancing quickly at the teenagers before shooting him a tiny glare. “y-you’re embarrassing me.”

“i’m just promoting you.” he corrected, completely unfazed.

“you’re making me embarrassed!”

“that’s what makes the marketing memorable.”

the teenagers laughed and ended up getting two cups.

the crowd only grew from there. an older man from across the street stopped by because he ‘saw the little stand and thought it was nice.’ not long after, two girls walking their dog bought lemonade when your daughter thoughtfully offered the dog a bowl of water too. mrs. tanaka from next door followed soon after, and somehow… her sister appeared fifteen minutes later despite living two streets away.

you narrowed your eyes from the porch as satoru poured lemonade with the focus of a professional barista.

“you seem to be enjoying this a lot,” you called out.

he looked up at you, all faux innocence. “well, i’m supporting our daughter’s dreams.”

“you literally winked at mrs. tanaka,” you pointed out, arching a brow at him.

“it’s only to attract the customers,” he clarified smoothly.

“satoru…”

“baby, i am a married man.” he placed a hand over his heart, looking genuinely offended that you’d even question his loyalty. “devoted, loyal & painfully in love with my beautiful wife.”

mrs. tanaka caught your eye & flashed you a knowing smile before arching one brow in quiet amusement.

your daughter blinked up at him. “… papa, what does devoted mean?”

“it means papa only has eyes for mama,” he explained, glancing towards you with an unbearably smug smile.

“ohhh.” she looked at you, then back at him. “but you smile at everyone, papa.”

“t-that’s called customer service.” he clarified, like the distinction should’ve been obvious.

you pressed your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

satoru leaned over the table, lowering his voice as though he were sharing highly classified business wisdom. “lesson number one: be kind to everyone, but save your heart only for one person.”

your daughter gave a thoughtful little nod, clearly taking mental notes. “o-one person.”

“exactly.”

“like when you say mama is the prettiest woman in your eyes?”

“yes,” he answered immediately, holding up his hand for a high five. “that’s an excellent example.”

your daughter slapped her tiny palm against his before turning towards the next customer with a bright grin. “my papa says my mama is the prettiest woman!”

the customer glanced between the three of you with an entertained smile.

satoru froze.

you slowly turned your head towards him. he cleared his throat. “t-that was… private company policy.”

by the time the sun started dipping lower, your daughter’s lemonade stand had somehow become the busiest spot on the street.

the jug was sweating so much that water started pooling beneath it as sticky drops of lemonade clung to the tablecloth. by then your daughter had abandoned her shyness almost completely, and was now calling out prices with the confidence of someone who had been running a business for years. satoru stood beside her like the world’s most attractive assistant manager, sleeves rolled up, sunglasses pushed into his hair, occasionally fanning her with the cardboard poster whenever she got too warm.

“… papa,” she said, holding out a cup.

he bent down immediately as she lifted it towards his mouth. “taste test.”

satoru took a slow sip, letting the lemonade sit on his tongue before his jaw stilled around the rim of the cup.

you raised an eyebrow.

he swallowed, his brows knitting together just enough to make your daughter’s smile falter.

your daughter looked nervous. “i-is it bad?”

“… bad?” he repeated.

she nodded, twisting the hem of her tiny apron between her fingers.

satoru slowly lowered the cup, then placed a hand over his chest like he had just experienced something life-changing. “this is the greatest lemonade i have ever tasted!”

your daughter’s face broke into the brightest smile, relief and pride washing over her all at once.

you laughed softly from the porch. “you said that about the first batch too.”

“because every batch is better than the last.” he replied, lifting the cup in a small toast.

“it’s from the same pitcher,” you reminded, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“growth mindset, baby.”

your daughter giggled, and satoru looked over at her at once; a smile slowly spreading across his face as though the sight of her beaming alone had made the entire afternoon worth it.

by the time the lemonade finally sold out, the sky had turned peachy, its edges softened by the last of the evening light. the balloons had drooped a little, the tablecloth was sticky from countless little spills, and your daughter had residue of lemonade on her fingers & somehow one side of her cheek.

but most importantly, the cash box was full.

once everything had been packed away, the three of you settled onto the porch steps. your daughter sat between you & satoru, legs swinging as she carefully counted her earnings. every coin was placed into neat little piles on the step between her feet while satoru watched with complete seriousness, like a proud manager reviewing the day’s earnings.

“one hundred fifty-one… one hundred fifty-two… one hundred fifty-three…”

“take your time,” he murmured. “good accounting matters.”

you leaned your shoulder against his, watching your daughter’s brows draw together in concentration. “i-i’m rich!” she whispered at last, staring down at the little piles with wide-eyed disbelief.

satoru nodded gleefully, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “filthy rich.”

“can we do this again tomorrow?”

you opened your mouth, but satoru beat you to it. “of course, sweetie.”

you turned to him with a look of disbelief. “h-hold on, satoru!?”

he blinked at you, all faux innocence. “… what?”

“you didn’t even ask me!” you protested, lightly shoving his arm.

“because i knew your answer would be yes.”

“you’re very confident, aren’t you?”

“i’m married to you. confidence was definitely required.” he replied, the corner of his mouth curling smugly.

you rolled your eyes at that, even as a reluctant smile slipped through.

your daughter suddenly slumped against satoru’s chest, the last of her excitement finally giving way to exhaustion. almost instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders, keeping her snug against him.

“… papa,” she mumbled.

“hm?”

“do you think people bought my lemonade because it was good?”

the teasing left satoru’s expression almost at once, replaced by something that made your chest ache. he looked down at her & carefully swept a sticky strand of hair from her forehead, his touch soft in that quiet, unguarded way he seemed to reserve only for the two of you.

“people bought your lemonade because you worked hard…” he reminded her, smoothing his thumb over her side. “because you were brave enough to call out to them. and also because you smiled & made everyone feel welcome.”

your daughter considered this in silence before tilting her head. “… and also because you’re handsome?”

you nearly choked.

satoru’s mouth fell open before his entire face broke into a delighted smirk. “… w-well,” he began, making a poor attempt at humility, “i mean—”

“don’t answer that,” you cut in.

he laughed, tightening his arm around her as her giggles vibrated against his chest. “fine, fine.” he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “maybe papa’s looks did help a little.”

“a lot,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

the teasing warmth in his expression eased when his gaze settled on you, replaced by something tender & far more intimate. it held none of the charm, theatrics, or effortless confidence he carried everywhere else.

this smile was saved only for you & for your daughter.

“we make a good team,” your daughter murmured sleepily.

satoru reached behind her and hooked an arm around your waist, drawing you closer until the three of you were pressed together shoulder to shoulder.

“the best team.”

you rested your head against his shoulder. “no more business ideas,” you told him firmly.

satoru remained quiet for exactly two seconds. before leaning closer and murmuring, “what about… cookies?”

your daughter’s eyes lit up like she’d just been handed another million-dollar business idea.

you lifted your head before giving him a deadpan stare. “… satoru.”

he tipped his head towards you, cerulean-eyes glinting with mischief as a shameless smirk pulled across his adorning features. and just like that, you knew your front yard would become a full neighborhood bakery by the next few days.

⨳ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: not proofread sorry… just thought the idea was cute & had to write it asap

ok ok i know what you’re thinking.. you said no nonchalant men, and i handed you the quietest black dragon in tokyo. but hear me out! because, in this case, quiet does not mean nonchalant. nonchalance is an absence— of effort, of care, of answers. nonchalant men leave you unsure, trying to make sense of static. sure, seishu’s volume might be low, but his signals are crystal clear. beneath his reserved demeanor, this boy feels everything. deeply. he’s in touch with his emotions, and he processes them instead of burying them. he can name what he’s feeling and, more importantly, he’ll tell you how he’s feeling. he’s confident enough to handle whatever shit the world throws at the two of you, and behind closed doors, he’s soft and goofy. the deadpan cracks, and there’s a whole ridiculous man under there that only you get to see. you said you notice things. you pay attention to people, remembering offhanded comments and details they mention in passing. seishu would notice right back. he’s extremely observant; paying attention is his love language. so imagine someone being fluent in the same rare tongue <3

𝘚𝘕𝘈𝘗𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘛𝘚 𝘍𝘙𝘖𝘔 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘍𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘎𝘙𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘚 !

✧ seishu picks you up on his bike, spare helmet already waiting. before you can reach for the strap, he’s got it, checking the fit under your chin with a careful finger and tugging once to be sure. “too tight?” when you shake your head, he flips your visor down and helps you up onto the seat before driving off into the night.

✧ carnival food fails him spectacularly, and it’s all your fault. he takes one bite of the taiyaki and goes very quiet— not his usual quiet, a disappointed quiet. “yours ruined these for me,” he says flatly, like you’ve genuinely inconvenienced him, and you’ve never been so flattered in your life.

✧ but the funhouse turns his mood around completely. he walks in sulking and comes out doing a whole goofy routine, posing solemnly in the mirror that stretches him nine feet tall and declaring it “accurate.” you break out into laughter, and he watches your reflections in the mirrors like they’re the main attraction.

✧ eventually, he pulls you to a bench for a breather, and it turns out the man is funny— dry, deadpan commentary on the passing crowd delivered so quietly it’s just for you, until you’re both wheezing behind your hands.

✧ you end the night with the haunted house, and while he’s not scared in the slightest, the second a scare actor gets too close to you, he’s tucking you against his side and steering you away. “nah, not on my watch.”

𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘗𝘙𝘐𝘡𝘌 . . .

the parking lot is nearly empty by the time you walk back to his bike, the carnival glowing faint and far behind you. he hands you the spare helmet— and then doesn’t let go of it, so you’re both holding it between you in the dark. “before you put that on,” his voice is soft, but he looks right at you when he says it. “i want to kiss you. wanted to for a while now… that okay?” “yeah,” you manage. “that’s okay.” he takes the helmet from you and sets it on the seat before he brings a hand to your jaw, tilting your face with the same care he used to check your strap hours ago. cornflower blue eyes gaze down at you as he leans in, and then his lips are on yours. your free hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over the scarred side, and he doesn’t pull away— just exhales through his nose and leans into your touch, kissing you until your lips are swollen and shiny. when he finally pulls back, he studies your face in the dark like he’s making sure you’re really there. whatever he finds makes the corner of his mouth lift. “for the record,” he murmurs, picking the helmet back up, “not on my watch means that, too. anyone who gets too close or tries anything…” he settles it gently over your head, tucking a loose strand of hair back before he flips the visor down for you. “...goes through me first. got it?”

    ♡  ─── cass’s carnival !!