#idk what to tag this but i only usually pick one or two tags anyway

[art-from-the-juice-box]

IVE FINISHED SEWING!!!

i’m really happy w them i have only sewn my own clothes once and it was way less involved then this so im really happy how it came out even though its a bit rough around the edges in a lot of places haha

fabric is from a bed cover from the thrift store :D

beads are from jellibead on etsy

and the pattern is here!

[cerealmonster15]

[vibrating a little too fast] Do You Understand My Vision Yet

[alygator77]

∘₊✧─moment of weakness─✧₊∘

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader (also ft suguru geto)

✧ summary. after a rough night at the bar, you are drunk out of your mind and decided to ask your best friend satoru to come pick you up to take you home. but during the car ride the alcohol starts giving you courage, making you feel rather bold as you make a move on your best friend. did this ruin your friendship? was this a mistake, or does he reciprocate your feelings?

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, reader is drunk for first half, friends to lovers, mutual pining, somewhat public sex, car sex, groping while driving, dry humping, handjob teasing (m), fingering (f! receiving), satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers, satoru takes care of you while you’re sick, satoru is also being an idiot, suguru makes a move on you, takes place before suguru leaves jujutsu high, will end with fluff

✧ words: 12.7k (yeeeeah idk what happened)

✧ a/n. this will be two parts because I'm currently sitting at 20k words, I have no clue how this happened... so I'm splitting it up. anyways, this is just a little side story that I have had brainrot for and had to get it out :)

✧ part two: moment of passion

“'toruuuu~” you call his name is a singsong childish voice while he pulls you into an embrace outside of the bar. Leaning into you, he can smell the liquor on you as you sway a little and give him an adorable pout. It’s not often he gets to see you like this.

“Take me home please, I'm bored here,” you sigh and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.        

Amused at this side of you, an affectionate hum leaves his lips as he tugs you even closer. You're being extra clingy today. Satoru can't help but snicker softly, his hold around your waist tightening. His hand slides lower to rest against the curve of your hip; slender, nimble fingers digging into your skin through the thin layer of your skirt.

A low amused chuckle falls from his lips as you snuggled into him. His face buries into your hair, his chin pressed softly against your tilted head. "You're such a needy little thing," he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm and almost ticklish. "And drunk off your damn ass, too. I’ll take you home."

Despite his words, his arms stay where they are. He was relishing in this clingy version of you, much more than the usual, sober you who tends to get irritated by him and push him away.

But who were you to push him away right now? Typically, you would do so in an attempt to distance yourself, to keep yourself in check. Afterall, Satoru is your best friend, but underneath the surface there has always been a part of you that craves more from him. Yet in this moment, you simply want to enjoy his gentle embrace.

With a soft exhale into Satoru's neck, you become enveloped in his warmth. It's a soothing contrast from the cool bite of the outside wind. A low groan escapes his lips as your warm breath tickles his neck, each puff sending a jolt of electricity running down his spine. He wishes he could stay like this forever.

It's always been this way— you're the only person who can make him feel things like this. Satoru and you have been friends for years. It started off as mere fellow jujutsu sorcerers, working together on missions, defeating curses together, but at one point it grew into something much more personal, with your late-night phone calls, lunch dates and movie marathons. That’s how it’s always been now, for as long as you can remember – you, Satoru and Suguru. And despite how much Satoru can get on your nerves sometimes, with his childish demeanor, emotional constipation and somewhat cocky attitude, he is always there for you.

You click your tongue before speaking, a cheeky smirk upon your lips. "Suguru challenged me to a drinking contest. Who am I to say no?"

Satoru's eyebrow quirks up at your response. Trust Geto to influence you into doing stupid things. Though, a subtle hint of irritation stirs within him when you mention his name. He begrudgingly recalls that as of recently, his best friend's gazes tends to linger a moment too long on your figure whenever interacting with you. Satoru’s admiration for you has grown into something he can’t quiet explain. He’s never felt this way about, well, anyone. Yet somehow, you manage to pull at him, thawing the icy heart he shields from everyone else. But he’s scared – if he is to act on those feelings, he’s certain it’ll only cause you both pain. He’s the strongest sorcerer after all, that easily makes you a target. So, he chooses to push his emotions down and continues to be what he’s always been for you, your best friend.

"Of course you're not. You're a glutton for punishment," he sighs, his fingers giving your hip a gentle squeeze. "You just had to prove yourself, huh? Why do I have a feeling you didn't even last a few shots? You're such a lightweight," he teases, his tone a mixture of amusement and affection.

His hand moves lower to hold the back of your thigh – a gasp escaping your lips, immediately followed by a soft giggle as he easily lifts you off your feet. “You're lucky I'm here to take you home, princess."

With a gentle sigh, you rest your head against his chest as he holds you in his embrace. The soft sound of his heartbeat soothes you as he begins to carry you towards his car. "You're the best 'toru. Always taking care of me."

A rare, fond smile tugs at the corners of his lips as you murmur those words, his heart skipping a beat inside his chest. Despite his usual nonchalant and cocky demeanor, Satoru has always had a soft spot for you. He may not admit it, of course, but secretly, he craves your praise.

"Of course I am." he muses, carrying you effortlessly towards his car. As he walks, his chin brushes gently against the top of your head. "Someone has to watch over you so you don't get into trouble. You're a magnet for mishaps." His tone playful, but laced with a hint of protectiveness. "Can't have someone else picking you up from the bar all drunk, now can I?"

Satoru opens the passenger door and carefully sets you inside, leaning over momentarily to click your seatbelt into place. He then walks around and enters the driver side. You lean your head back on the headrest, gently closing your eyes and exhaling with a slight annoyance as you take a moment to recall what happened moments before Satoru picked you up.

"Ugh. You won't believe it. Suguru was insisting I go home with him tonight.. and he was being real persistent," the alcohol is clearly loosening your tongue a bit more, and it doesn’t help that you never really gave yourself a moment to process what had happened.

Satoru freezes for a brief moment, his hand hovering over the ignition. His jaw clenches briefly at the mention of Geto again – did his closest friend actually make a move on you? It sets off a flicker of jealousy within him. Not that he'd explicitly show it, instead, a nonchalant expression maintains his features as he starts up the car. The engine hums to life, casting a low rumble in the otherwise silent vehicle.

"Is that so?" he replies, feigning nonchalance despite the subtle edge that underlines his tone. His gaze briefly flickers in your direction before focusing back on the road. "And why would he suddenly want to do that?"

You stare out at the road and lift an eyebrow, biting your lip as you hesitate – you’ve always had a slight suspicion that maybe Satoru also has feelings for you, he undeniably is affectionate.. but it’s hard for you to know for certain if that affection is romantic since he is always so hot and cold with you. One moment he’s worshiping you, the next he’s pushing you away. And deep down you know it’s probably for the best to remain the way you are – you’re content having him in your life, even if it’s just as your best friend, though a part of you still pines for him.

You wonder how he'll respond when you tell him about Suguru. Satoru’s always been protective over you. But you feel that as your best friend, he should know. That's why you called him. After everything that happened, he was the only person you thought of, the only person you wanted to see.

"Well, considering the way he tried to kiss me tonight, I'm assuming he didn't wanna talk."

Satoru's grip on the steering wheel tightens visibly at your revelation, his knuckles turning slightly paler as his hold on the leather material strains. A wave of bitterness washes over him, his eyes growing darker as he processes what you'd just said. He’s always buried this bitterness deep down when he’d watch you with other men, but Suguru? A twinge of betrayal stirs in him.

His gaze remains fixed on the road ahead, the car's headlights cutting through the night. He clears his throat slightly, his voice low and measured. "And how did you respond to that?"

Bringing your hand to your face, you shake your head in disbelief as if you’re trying to shoo the mere image out of your mind. You, Satoru and Suguru were an inseparable trio. The three of you have been the best of friends for… well what feels like practically forever. But lately, Suguru has been acting rather…odd. That’s why his advances tonight really caught you off guard. It just didn't feel...right.

"Well.. obviously, I pushed him away. I don’t know what came over him, but I was not having it. So, I immediately called you to come get me."

As you describe the encounter, a wave of relief washes over Satoru. It appeases him to know that your reaction wasn't one of reciprocation. His hold on the steering wheel eases a fraction, his shoulders losing some tension. He hums softly in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering in your direction for a brief moment.

"Good," he replies, a hint of protectiveness seeping into his tone. "You should always call me if someone tries to bother you, alright? I'll always come get you. I'd rather have you with me than with anyone else any day."

You giggle and turn your head to the side facing Satoru, the warmth of the alcohol giving a soft flush to your cheeks. You admire Satoru's profile while his eyes are peeled to the road. He is so beautiful in the moonlight, his snowy hair as smooth as silk, tousles hanging loose amongst his white lashes – the headlights illuminating his cerulean blue eyes, eyes you find yourself getting lost in.

Wait.. did he just imply that he wants me? You think.

Have you perhaps had too much to drink? Was that a slip up, or did you imagine it?

"You'd, rather have me with you?" You repeat his words back slowly, gazing at him.

Satoru's grip on the steering wheel loosens slightly, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern against its leather surface as he navigates the darkened roads. He glances in your direction, meeting your gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to the road – the way your eyes trace over his features, bathed by the passing street lights, nearly makes his breath catch in his throat.

The words he uttered moments before replay in his mind, and he realizes just how much they might have revealed. Usually, you’d simply dismiss his subtle advances, or he’d play them off with a witty comment, but tonight there was a look in your eyes, and the gentle seriousness in your voice... It caught him slightly off guard.

"Yeah. I would," he responds, his tone softer than usual.

A brief moment of silence fills the car, his words hanging in the air like a heavy promise. You shift your body to the side entirely, facing directly towards him as you lay back in your seat – your cheek pressed flush against the cool leather as you watch him intently. The intimacy in the car is palpable. You reach your hand out and rest it on Satoru's leg.

"'Toru..."

Satoru's breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on his leg. It's a simple gesture, a subtle touch, but it sends a jolt coursing through his body. The way you say his name in that moment, he’s heard you say it every day, but this was different. The warmth you suddenly inject into the small space, he can’t simply disregard it.

He steals a glance at you, his eyes darkening as he sees the intensity of your gaze. His muscles tense, both from the impact of your touch and the unexpected shift in the atmosphere.

"..yeah?" he replies, his voice a low, almost husky whisper.

You feel the liquor driving your body in a way you cannot stop. You begin to rub small intimate circles on his leg with your fingertips – brushing him ever so gently as you caress slowly up his thigh. There are words you’ve been eager to say but have locked up deep within you – suddenly the alcohol is causing your shackles to break, betraying your sense of restraint.

"I realized tonight.. I really wanted to see you. I only want you. That's why I called," your breath a whisper, your eyes bearing into him with deep longing.

Satoru can barely concentrate on the road anymore. Your gentle touch, the way your fingertips graze over him – it ignites a fire within him. His thighs flex under your caress, your gesture sending sparks of pleasure throughout him.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Your words, the truth in your confession, hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd been wanting to hear those words for so long, and now that they were finally being voiced, it somehow seemed too good to be true.

He inhales sharply, the air caught in his lungs. "You’re drunk. Only me, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse as his gaze momentarily flickers to meet yours. The raw honesty in your eyes stirs something primal within him.

The unpredictable movements of your fingertips begin to climb higher up his thigh, dangerously close to his groin. Your eyes do not waver, intently looking at him with a burning passion. A passion that you had buried deep inside yourself for many, many years.

It’s a passion you’ve been bottling up – you’ve been denying yourself your affection towards Satoru. Denying your love for him. And while there may have been subtle hints that he reciprocated your feelings, there was also an inexplicable fear of breaking the friendship you have built up over many years. That is why usually, you would just turn a blind eye, and so would he. You both accepted this is how it would always be.

But you crave him so much. You crave his touch.

"Only you, 'toru. I... need you."

A soft, almost strangled gasp escapes Satoru's lips as your fingers move higher, the sudden intensity of your touch driving him into madness. He tightens his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white from the sheer force. His eyes briefly flicker back to yours, your intense gaze not missed by him.

"Fuck,” he mutters, a hint of desperation in his voice. The need in your words, the way you express your want for him, it causes his stomach to flip in a way he’s never felt before. “What are you doing to me, love?”

Your lips curl into a smile as you hear his voice waver. It’s a side of him you have never had the privilege to see. An intense ache pulses in between your legs as you feel pure, wet, desire begin to cloud your judgement. Why was it you didn’t act more daring with Satoru before? You suddenly can’t remember, because right now all you know is that you just want to hear more of those sounds from him. Make him become undone from you.

Your fingertips brush gently, teasingly, against the slight bulge forming under the taut fabric of Satoru's pants.

"Do you want me to stop?" your voice a silky whisper.

Satoru's breath hitches, a shiver raking down his spine as your fingers brush against the growing arousal in his pants. You have never been this bold with him. It takes every ounce of his restraint not to shudder visibly. He clenches his jaw, his gaze fixated on the road ahead, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"I... fuck," he manages to mutter, his gaze flicking between the road and you. "Don't you dare," he responds, his voice thick and raspy. "If you stop, I might just lose my damn mind."

You bite your lip and trace your fingers up to the tip of his now prominent bulge – feeling it twitch with a needy desire underneath your digits. A slight wet patch begins to form, seeping through his trousers. Satoru nearly jerks the wheel as shock waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. A sharp exhale escaping his lips, his body reacting viscerally to your touch. It takes every ounce of control for him not to lose it entirely. He can barely keep his eyes on the road, the urge to look at you, to devour you, is almost unbearable.

You click your tongue smugly, a self-satisfied smile forming across your lips. "Tsk tsk~ 'toru, eyes on the road."

Another strangled sound escapes from somewhere deep within him. The way you touch him, the way you tease him, ignites a fire that burns throughout his veins. His mind is swimming with pure need, his hands trembling against the wheel.

"You're... going to be the death of me," he manages to utter, his voice a strained growl. But he can't stop himself from glancing at you, his azure eyes almost black with desire. "You're such a damn tease. I want to pull over and... God." He trails off, his teeth clenched.

You press your palm down on his erection, feeling it grow underneath the pressure, and you enjoy quite literally having him in the palm of your hands. The street lights darting behind Satoru's longing stare, each flicker of light revealing beautiful glimpses of his desperation for you.

"Come on 'toru. Hurry up and take me home. We're almost there," you knowingly tease him with a subtle plea.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, his head falling back against the seat, as you press your palm against his aching length. Was he dreaming? He lets out a low groan, a mixture of need and frustration that he's unable to act on, yet. His eyes flash open and he briefly shakes his head as he quickly remembers he’s still infact driving.

He growls and presses down on the gas, the speed of the car gradually increasing as he fights to maintain his control. "You'd better be ready for what you're doing to me, love. You're playing with fire."

The road stretches ahead, the car's headlights illuminating the way, the distance seemingly insurmountable. You catch sight of familiar houses through the window behind Satoru, which immediately tells you that you are on the street of your apartment complex. Feeling that needy ache between your legs again, you crave more. Your hand trails up to the zipper of Satoru's pants, slowly pulling it down to expose his boxers, bulge pushing hard against the cloth as it is covered in a pool of precum – aching, and desperate for you.

"God, 'toru," you gasp at the sight. Even though it is hidden underneath the fabric, you can tell that it is undeniably, big.

The sound of the zipper being undone is like a siren's call in his ears, his breath catching in his chest. "Fuck," he mutters, his voice a gravelly rasp. "You're... unbelievable. You're... so damn impatient," he manages to bite out, his voice a wrecked, strangled whisper.

His thighs tremble with an uncontrollable shudder as you look at his arousal – he looks at your soft supple lips, and he wants so badly to shove his cock deep into your throat, the need to have you consuming him, gasping and moaning. It’s an imagine that he would often fantasize about.

"If you keep teasing me like this, I promise you—” as he trails off the car suddenly comes to a halt, the engine shutting off as Satoru pulls up to the curb outside your apartment building.

The moment the car stills, the only sound being the rhythmic pace of his ragged breaths, Satoru looks over at you, his eyes raking in the sight of your face — flushed and full of yearning. His gaze dark and intense, his pupils dilated with raw desire.

He watches as you unbuckle your seatbelt, the sound of the click echoes in the small space. And in that moment, it acts as if a switch flipped inside of him, unleashing something primal within. He quickly unbuckles his own seatbelt and turns towards you with haste.

His hand promptly reaches out, grasping your wrist, his grip firm and unrelenting. "Not so fast," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. He reaches for your thighs, his fingers almost trembling with the need to touch you. His body moves with a desperate fervor and a harsh grip as he tugs you across the center console and onto his lap, his strong arms encircling you tightly. The air is thick with tension, the desire between you two palpably tangible.

"Come here," he whispers. His hand grasping the back of your neck and guiding you towards him. You feel your clothed clit press against his length and moan, pushing forward as you crash your lips against his own.

The moment your lips meet his, he practically growls, his own groan mingling with yours as you rock against his aching arousal. His hands immediately finding purchase against your thighs, his grip on you is almost bruising, a physical manifestation of his need for you.

The taste of you, the feel of your body on his lap, pushes him to the edge of what little control he had as his hands begin to wander freely, roaming possessively over your body, as if he needs to touch you everywhere at once – touching and massaging, as if trying to commit every curve and contour to memory.

His tongue dips into your mouth, exploring and claiming your tongue hungrily.  His hands moving beneath your shirt, his palms searing against your skin. “You.. don't know... how long... I've wanted you," he manages to mutter between kisses – his breath coming in as hot gasps as his body trembles with the sheer intensity of his desire.

A guttural moan rumbles from deep within his chest, his hips jerking involuntarily as you grind against him. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down the length of your neck, his teeth nibbling and biting possessively along the way. A hand underneath your shirt cups your breast, gently flicking your nipple between his index finger and thumb, while his other hand roams below your skirt, greedily seeking to touch more of you as he circles around your wet sensitive bud through your already soaked underwear.

“Nngh… ‘toru,” you moan. The heat between you two is fierce, a burning tension that has been years in the making. He relishes the sound of his name escaping your lips in a desperate moan. He wants to hear it again, hear the sound of it on your lips, as he claims you entirely.

His hand on your clit moves hungrily, his touch exploring greedily as he aches to feel more of your arousal. “You're so wet for me," he breaths against your skin, his touch growing more insistent, more urgent. "I can feel how badly you want this. Need this."

He pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your pretty folds dripping in pools of nectar, and he begins to tease your entrance. His mouth moves from your neck to your ear, his lips grazing over the sensitive flesh of your earlobe. "Say my name again," he whispers, his voice a low, demanding growl.

“Please… ‘toru,” you plead. Satoru's eyes fix on your face, he drinks in the sight of you – flushed and filled with need, lips plump and pink. A sight he’s only ever dreamed of, and now he cannot believe that he actually has you like this on top of him. It’s so captivating it makes his heart pound against his ribcage like a caged beast.

He moans softly against your ear, a low growl rumbling in his throat as you say his name — just how he wanted. His own breath comes in ragged gasps as he continues to tease your entrance. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice roughened with need. "Beg for me. Beg me to give you what you need."

An inch of his finger presses against your entrance, his touch gentle yet insistent, as his thumb slowly circles your sensitive bud, teasing and tormenting you, his touch hungry and demanding.

"You're so unfair," you moan, pleading and desperate for more. "Please 'toru, please. Need you now."

"Good girl," he grins as he parts your lower lips and thrusts his digit in deep, feeling the warmth around your plush warm walls. Your body arches back in pleasure as you let out a loud and longing moan. The sound of your moan fills the air, a symphony of desire that only feeds the fire within him. "You're so pretty like this," he murmurs, his voice a ragged whisper. "So desperate. So needy."

He begins scraping inside you softly and slowly, curling his fingers up as your walls clamp down on him, needy for more. You feel the heat rising in the car. The air is thick with your combined breaths, the windows fogged up like a veil of desire.

“Fuck ‘toru.. so good… need more,” pleading to him between your moans, your essence dripping onto him while the squelching sound of your juices fill the air.

"You want more, huh?" he breathes, his voice a low, growl. "You want everything I have to give, love?" He continues to tease you, his finger and thumb working in unison as he adds a second digit, his movements insistent. "Well, I intend to give you just that."

Moaning his name in pleasure from the intrusion, you slowly rock your hips upon his hand. The other hand continues to caress your breast as his claims your nipple with soft stimulating circles. You feel yourself eagerly approaching a sweet release. "Nnngh, don't stop 'toru... m' close"

"So close," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly growl. "I can feel you clenching around my fingers, love. You want it so badly, don't you?" He continues, his pace quickening, determined to send you over the edge.

Your hands take purchase on Satoru's hair, intertwining his white locks between your fingertips, you lightly pull at the tousles with a desperate need to grab something, anything, as you ride out the wave of overwhelming ecstasy that he gives you. Satoru leans into the touch of your hands as you grasp for him, his eyes never leaving your face. The sight of you, flushed and wanting, only feeds his desire to give you what you need, his cock throbbing underneath you.

His fingers continue their onslaught, increasing pace and delving deeper into your core, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. You rest your forehead gently against his own while the speed of your grinding increases, eagerly matching the movement of his thrusts. "That's it sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a ragged whisper. "Just let go for me. I want to feel you come unraveled in my hands."

His motions become more insistent, his fingers finding the spots that make you shudder and gasp. "Nnngh.. Satoru.. m' cuming."

"Cum for me, love. I want to hear you scream my name," he breathes against your lips before he captures them in a heated kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with fervor. His fingers move more urgently, his pace relentless, determined to send you over the edge – and he does just that as you come completely undone on top of him. Moaning his name into his mouth, you feel the sweet release drip down his hand, drenching him completely.

Fuck, he wanted to cum right then and there. Holding you close, his arm encircles your waist as he swallows your moans, his tongue claiming your mouth as he kisses you deeply and greedily. His fingers slow their pace, gently guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Pulling away from the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours while groaning in satisfaction. “That's my girl," he breathes, his voice a husky whisper. "You're so beautiful."

He slowly withdraws from within you, his hand glistening with your sweetness, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking them clean while a low groan of pleasure escapes his lips. “Need to taste more of you.”

Every nerve in your body begins to sing with hungry desire, your head slightly spinning from the liquor while your skin tingles with the aftershocks of your pleasure. The sight of him, lazily licking his fingers clean, sends a new wave of heat through you, and Satoru’s words, so primal and possessive, only serve to stoke the flames of need within you. He shifts beneath you, his hands moving to your thighs now, gripping you tightly and pulling you down closer to his evident arousal, only separated against the thin fabric of his boxers.

"You'd better get me upstairs,” you urge, breathless from the heat of the moment and hungry for more – more of him. All of him. “I don’t think I can bear much more of this. Need you inside me," your breath tickles him as your teeth lightly nip at the sensitive skin across the length of his neck, moaning softly while you leave a trail of burning kisses across his flesh.

His body shudders under your touch as you graze him, and you feel his cock twitch against you. The feeling of your mouth on his skin is like a drug, driving his desire to a fever pitch. He leans back against the headrest, his head tilting back in pleasure, exposing more of his neck to your hungry lips.

"You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "The things I want to do to you... you don't need to tell me twice."

But while he fumbles for the door handle, you grin against the crook of his neck as you begin to press yourself further on top of him, slowly grinding against his aching length. Ragged gasps escape his lips and you are pleased with how you have him writhing beneath you.

“Nngh.. fuck it,” he hisses. “I need you. Right. Now. Hold on tight."

And in a moment, you feel yourself pulled by a magnetizing force. You blink, and suddenly there you are, laying against Satoru exactly as you were, but now directly on top of your bed inside your apartment. He teleported you there, unable to wait a second longer.

You’ve experienced Satoru’s teleporting technique in the past, but there is one thing you both failed to take into consideration, you were drunk. The sudden force of being projected through space and time makes your stomach twist in discomfort, you bring your hand to your mouth in an attempt to fight off the nausea, and Satoru's eyes widen as he realizes the sudden shift in your demeanor, the color draining from your face as you quickly scramble off of him.

A pang of guilt stabs at his heart as he realizes what he's done – he had temporarily forgotten your slightly impaired state. Concern etched across his features, he watches you stumbling towards the bathroom, your balance betraying you. Satoru springs to action, catching you, his hands reaching out to steady you.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, his hands gently encircling your waist as he leans you against him, guiding you carefully. "Shit, love, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. You alright?"

The room begins to spin as Satoru guides you towards the toilet. You slump down in front of it and begin retching, the nausea beating you in an already lost battle. Tears well up in your eyes from the burning pain that stings your throat.

Satoru's expression twists in concern as he kneels beside you on the floor, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back. The sight of your tears makes his heart sink, and a mix of guilt and worry clouds his features.

"Shhh... it's okay, love," he reassures, his voice laced with remorse. "Shit, I'm sorry. I should've known better.. guess I didn’t think that one through. I really shouldn't have teleported you like that in your state."

You sit in front of the toilet for what feels like an eternity, and Satoru stays beside you the entire time, offering what little comfort he can while you let it all out. You feel your body overcome with exhaustion, aching from the tension of each agonizingly painful convulsion. As you let out the last of what your stomach has to offer, your breath becomes ragged, panting with fatigue. You curl up into a ball, resting your head on Satoru’s lap whilst closing your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the overwhelming feeling that the room is spinning.

He gently brushes away the hair that sticks to your sweaty forehead, his touch tender and caring. "I'm sorry," he whispers softly. "I should have been more thoughtful. I shouldn't have let my impatience ruin things. I was just so caught up in the moment. You're in this state because of me."

You let out a long deep exhale while your eyes remained closed, the sound of his voice giving you slight comfort. “Satoru. I’m in this state because I thought having three shots of hard liquor and five mixed drinks was a good idea. This isn’t your fault.” Reaching for his hand, you intertwine your fingers with his own. “You weren’t the only one caught up in the moment..”

He squeezes your hand in return, his grip firm yet gentle. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, tracing small patterns on your skin.

"You know, for a woman who just emptied her stomach, you sure still know how to put things into perspective," he muses.

You scoff, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I say, I’m a guru.”

"Yeah, sure. You’re a guru. Guru of making poor choices, maybe," he quips back at you with a grin. “You really thought five drinks was a good idea? You've always been a lightweight, but this time you really outdid yourself, princess," he teases.

“Shut up.” You laugh, your eyes still closed as you nuzzle your face more into the warmth of his lap.

He lifts his other hand to your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that lingered on your cheek. "I still feel guilty, though," he admits, his voice carrying a gentle tone. "I should have been more cautious, especially since I know how your tolerance is when you're drunk."

"Well hey, at least we’ve learned our lesson, right? No more teleporting drunk girls."

He chuckles and lets out a small sigh, his eyes tracing the contour of your face. "You've always been a handful when you're drunk, always tending to do things recklessly when alcohols involved. Like drinking more than you should, or getting your hand stuck in the Pringles can. Or…" he trails off, briefly recalling your shared passion in the car.

Your tired eyes flutter open, revealing a lazy smile as you respond with a playful glint. "Oh come on, getting my hand stuck in a Pringles can was a one-time thing. And it was your fault."

He looks down at you with a mixture of concern and affection. Was this all just another one of your drunk antics? He desperately wanted to know your feelings, but now wasn’t the time. You needed rest, and it’s probably best if you’re both level headed for that conversation.

"You’re gonna drink some water and brush your teeth, alright? Then, we'll get you into bed," his voice is gentle yet firm.

You nod weakly in agreement, appreciating his care and concern in that moment. The events of the night and the nausea had drained any energy you had left. Summoning the little strength that you had to pull yourself up from the floor, Satoru's supportive presence is there to stabilize you. You allow him to help you to your feet, steadying yourself against him as the room continues to spin.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," you mumble softly. "I'm so tired.”

Satoru's touch is gentle and attentive as he guides you through a routine of cleaning up - supporting you to the sink to brush your teeth, helping you brush your hair and gently drying your face with a clean towel.

“Thank you, ‘toru." You mumble softly, and he smiles warmly in response. His arms lift you from the bathroom, carrying you like a delicate treasure through the hallway to your bedroom. He slowly lowers you onto the soft bed sheets with a feather-light touch and brings you a glass of water.

Satoru tenderly strips you of your evening clothes, replacing them with the comfort of your satin pajamas. The fabric is soft and soothing against your weary body and his fingers delicately guide each limb as he moves. He pulls the blankets over you, tucking you in like a cocoon. You shiver slightly as the cool sheets touch your skin, but as you sink into the softness of your bed, the exhaustion seeps into your bones, and you can feel your eyelids growing heavy.

Kneeling beside the bed, Satoru gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, searching your face with a mixture of concern and affection. "Do you need anything else?" he asks, his voice a low and soothing murmur.

With a soft smile of contentment on your face, you reach a drowsy hand over to him and grab onto the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. "Stay with me," you murmur, the words barely more than a tired whisper.

He chuckles softly, endeared by your drowsy voice and the way you hold onto him. Without another word, he carefully maneuvers himself onto the bed, climbing in beside you. Once he's settled in, he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms tightly around your body.

He reaches forward to switch off your bedside lamp, plunging the room into a soothing darkness. He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent as he settles into the comfort of holding you. "I'm here," he whispers softly, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear. "Not going anywhere, love."

You feel warm – this is everything you’ve always wanted. But as you battle falling out of consciousness, you cannot stop your mind from racing. The memories of Satoru being hot and cold with his affection of you in the past – you desperately hope your feelings reached him properly. After all this, he wouldn’t push you away again… right?

“Don’t leave…” your words a soft murmur in the quiet room, revealing the vulnerability and fear lurking in the depths of your heart.

Satoru's expression turns somber as he considers your plea, his arms instinctively tightening their embrace around you. "I'm not going anywhere." he repeats, his voice soft in your ear. He feels the weight of your body relax against him as you slowly drift off to sleep.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

As you slowly slip into unconsciousness, Satoru remains wide awake, his thoughts swirling like a tempest in his mind. The memory of your shared passion weighs heavy on him, it was a moment where you were drunk while he was sound in mind – he can't shake the feeling that he was too selfish, too impulsive. He feels torn between the desire to submit to his love for you and the knowledge that it may put you in danger. Guilt gnaws at his heart.

∘₊✧

A slight beam of sun filters in through the curtains of your apartment, casting rays upon your face. Your eyes flutter open and you immediately feel an intense pang upon your temple, suddenly remembering just how much you drank last night.

You exhale in discomfort, rolling to the side to see yourself greeted with an empty bed… the sheets beside you are cool to the touch, evidence of Satoru's absence. Suddenly, memories of last night begin to flood your mind. You groan, covering your face with your arm. You acted recklessly… but you don’t regret it. You’ve desperately wanted Satoru for so long, and now you really didn’t want to lose him. Does he think last night was a mistake?

Your phone suddenly pings with a text notification. You fumble to reach for it on your nightstand, wincing as the brightness of the screen assaults your sensitive eyes. As you read the words in the message your heart jumps – can we talk about last night?

Fluttering your eyes briefly, you rub them sleepily in an attempt to steady your vision. You prop yourself up on your bed and take another good look at the message.

Suguru Geto: Can we talk about last night?

The phone feels heavy in your hand as you consider how to respond. You groan and plop back down into the mattress face first, the memories of Suguru's attempted kiss at the bar last night adding another layer of complication to your already throbbing headache.

You know you’ll need to address Suguru, but first you needed to get some food and medicine in you. After taking some Tylenol and chugging three glasses of water to help with the aftermath of your drunken night, you make a cup of coffee and fix yourself a slice of toast and a banana, hoping it'll quell the empty feeling in your stomach. You take a seat at the table, slowly nibbling on the food and sipping the coffee, feeling the caffeine start to help clear your still groggy state.

Once you've had your small makeshift breakfast, you pick up your phone again, steeling yourself to reply to Suguru's message. You muster the courage and quickly type –

Me: Yeah, we can talk.

You continue to take another sip of your coffee, and are surprised to see the phone chime almost immediately after you sent your message.

Suguru Geto: Okay. Meet you later tonight? After work?

Me: Sure.

∘₊✧

As you enter through the doors of Jujutsu High, Shoko's voice cuts through the air, making you wince as your lingering headache throbs.

“You look like shit,” she bluntly remarks as she observes you shuffle heavily on the floor, black sunglasses shield your gaze from the intense light that searches for you through the windows of the hallway.

“Gee, thanks Sho,” you mumble sarcastically.

She raises an eyebrow before continuing, her voice laced with a hint of suspicion. “By the time I got to the bar, you were already gone. You left earlier than I expected, we didn’t even get to do karaoke. What happened last night?”

“Honestly?” you say, trying to find the words. “I’m not even too sure myself what happened last night. What did Suguru tell you?”

Shoko studies your face closely, her eyes narrowing as she tries to make out your expression behind your dark sunglasses. She takes a moment to assess your state, her expression a mixture of concern and subtle curiosity.

"He didn't say much," she says slowly. "Just that you had a good time at the bar and then you randomly left early. But I could tell something was bothering him. He seemed pretty… distracted." She pauses for a moment, tilting her head slightly. "He also mentioned that you left with Gojo," she adds.

“Yeah… I was feeling sick so he took me home,” you reply slowly, trying not to give too much away. You really wanted to talk to Satoru himself before mentioning anything about last night to anyone else.

Shoko furrows her brow at your response, sensing that there's more to the story than what you're letting on. But she doesn't press further, sensing your reluctance to say more.

“Hey, speaking of… where is Satoru?” you ask while briefly glancing through the halls. “Usually he’s the first one here, ready to pester me.”

"Gojo's been pretty mysterious today. He got here earlier this morning, but he was in a weird mood. He didn't say a word to anyone and just headed straight to his office. He seemed preoccupied with something."

“I see...” you say, slight concern filtered in your voice. You really wanted to talk to Satoru, but does he want space? He left while you were sleeping last night, hasn’t texted you, and didn’t greet you like he usually does. Your heart feels a bit heavy with concern – you really hope that your actions didn’t ruin things between you two. How would you even face him? You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering thoughts. Time to focus on the task at hand – you had to get through work, then later you’d address Suguru.

Shoko eyes you closely, sensing the hint of worry in your voice. She hesitates for a moment before speaking, her voice a gentle yet firm reassurance. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure he's just busy. You know how he is, being the strongest and all."

You nod, trying to brush off the nagging feeling that something was off with Satoru. Maybe he really was just busy. "Yeah, you're right," you say, forcing a smile. “Anyways I gotta head to my mission. See you around Sho.”

"See you later. Be careful on your mission, okay?" With a final wave, she turns to head towards her own work. You take a deep breath and trek forward as you mentally prepare yourself for your assignment. You can’t afford to be distracted right now.

∘₊✧

While you’re nowhere near as strong as Satoru or Suguru, you are by no means a weak sorcerer. You hold the rank of Grade A, slowly making a name for yourself in the Jujutsu world. Typically, you can handle missions on your own, it’s really not often that you’re paired up with anyone for your assignments, but today you’ve been paired up with your fellow sorcerer, Nanami Kento, and thank god you are because the bothersome hangover almost makes you lose sight of a dreadful curse lurking in the shadows. It lunges directly at you – Nanami saves you with a black flash and eliminates the curse effortlessly.

Nanami shoots you a disapproving glance. "You need to pay attention," he says gruffly, his eyes narrowing at your distracted state. "You could've avoided that attack if you weren't so lost in thought."

You nod with a subtle grimace, and of course Nanami, as observant as ever, notices your struggle. "Are you alright, y/n?" he asks, his eyes still firm but there is concern in his voice.

“Yeah… thanks Nanami. Guess I’m just a little out of it today. Can you finish up here? I’ll go head back to campus and report to Yaga.”

Nanami studies you for a moment, his gaze assessing your tired appearance before nodding in understanding. "Alright. Be careful on your way back."

You head back towards Jujutsu High, the walk is peaceful, the sun slowly meeting the horizon. You look down at your phone, it reads 4:47pm. Your empty mailbox gnaws at you, it’s clear evidence that Satoru still hasn’t reached out to you. Agitated, you hastily tap your fingers on the keyboard, and hit send –

Me: Hey. Thanks for taking care of me last night.

After the message is sent, you stare at your phone, your fingers tapping the screen anxiously, waiting for a reply – a blue bubble, anything. But the minutes tick by and there’s nothing. The empty screen mocks you, the silence deafening, your heart sinks further.

Were you overthinking things? A pang of disappointment chews at you as the screen remains stubbornly empty. You brush your phone into your pocket and continue to walk towards the school. After a few silent minutes, although it felt like an eternity, you feel the buzz in your pocket. Quickly, you pick it up and look down to see a simple reply.

Satoru Gojo: Anytime.

A scoff escapes your lips, frustration and worry tug at the corners of your mind. The one worded message just as unbearable as his radio silence. Shaking your head, you stuff your phone back into your pocket as you walk through the entrance of Jujutsu High once again. Is this day over yet? Oh yeah, you almost forgot, you still have to talk to Suguru. Your misfortune never ends.

∘₊✧

“I see, so you and Nanami successfully defeated the curse in Ginza.” Principal Yaga speaks to you while he shuffles through the papers on his desk, his eyes not looking up at you while you give him your mission report.

“Great work y/n. You can head home for today,” But as you’re about to step out the door, Yaga promptly stops you with a sudden request.

"Actually, y/n. One more thing.”

“Yes sir?”

“Before you leave, could you bring some of these documents to Gojo for me? He was supposed to handle them yesterday, but you know how he is…" he gestures to the mound of documents on his desk with a disheveled sigh. "This is urgent – the higher-ups are getting impatient."

Satoru. The thought of seeing him right now makes you anxious, however, you know that you can't refuse Yaga's request. What excuse could you possibly give Yaga anyways? You nod, feigning nonchalance while taking the pile of papers from him. "Alright," you reply, the weight of the thin parchment feeling heavy in your hands. "I'll make sure he takes care of them."

As you gather the courage to approach Satoru's office, you can hear your heart pounding in your own ears. You halt directly in front of the door and with a deep breath, you knock firmly on it. His muffled voice instructs you to enter.

The office is dimly lit, the setting sun casting shadows across the room. He sits behind his desk and his eyes flicker up to you, but his expression remains enigmatic. Those piercing azure pools seem to stare straight through you, and you can immediately see they are somewhat detached. He leans back in his chair, his gaze fixated on you as he assesses your presence. The air between you both is thick with tension.

"Hey," he says simply, breaking the silence that hangs heavy in the room, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a more reserved one, causing a pang of trepidation to shoot through you.

“Hey,” you utter. “Yaga sent me to give you these documents,” you set them down on the desk in front of him amongst more stacks of papers. “He says it’s really important you address it.”

Satoru glances idly down to the papers before looking back up at you, his expression still unreadable. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen; it is instead replaced by a hard, serious look that leaves you feeling unsettled.

“Thanks,” he replies curtly. He picks up the stack of papers and flips through them, his eyes skim over the words without a hint of emotion.

“So… um,” you begin, unsure what it is you want to say but desperate to see him feel something, anything, that will give you some sense of relief from the growing knot in your stomach. “Have a busy day?”

Satoru looks up from the stack of papers, his gaze locking onto yours, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. He lets out a dry chuckle, a shadow of his usual playful self. "Busy?" he repeats, with a hint of annoyance. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. Meeting after meeting, curses left and right, and the higher-ups breathing down my neck as usual." He sighs deeply, running a hand through his messy white hair.

You know that everything about him is telling you to leave him alone, but your heart aches seeing this side of him. You feel a slight sense of guilt knowing that you probably caused more trouble for him last night, considering how late he was up taking care of you. Satoru always has so much on his plate, being the strongest sorcerer and all. He’s always sacrificing his own wants and needs for everyone else.

You yearn to break his icy front. He’s always putting on a façade, never really great about talking about his emotions, opting to brush them aside with feigned aloofness. Biting your cheek, you finally let the words come out.

“Yeah… well thank you again for taking care of me last night. Sorry I caused you trouble.”

His eyes narrow slightly at your mention of last night, his expression faltering momentarily before he quickly regains his composure. That brief lapse was enough to tell you that he didn’t want you to bring it up. He sets down the stack of papers and leans back in his chair, his arms crossing his chest.

“It’s fine,” he says, waving off your thanks. “You’re just a goddamn pain in the ass when you’re drunk.” There’s a subtle smirk on his face, but it’s lacking his usual teasing tone. “Wasn’t the first time,” he mutters as his gaze returns to the stack of papers in front of him. “Though you definitely were more clingy than usual.”

“Satoru.. about that…”

“—let’s just forget about it, okay?” he interjects, his body tense, his tone icy and his eyes peeled on the papers in front of him. “It meant nothing. You were drunk and horny, I just happened to be within reach.”

Your heart drops as a wave of emotions crash through you. You felt many things in that moment. Hurt. Sad. Angry. Very angry. You were trying so hard to be mature about this but his dismissive attitude was shattering what little composure you had. He wasn’t even giving you a moment to speak. Quite frankly, you had enough.

“Are you serious right now?” your voice laced with an evident sting.  

Satoru’s eyebrow raises at your sharp tone. Despite his cold demeanor, the slightest hint of surprise flickered across his features as you retorted. His gaze lifts from the papers in front of him to meet your hurt and fuming expression.

"I’m serious," he snaps back coldly. "It was a drunken mistake. Nothing more. It didn’t mean anything." He pauses, watching you intently, waiting for your response, but you are momentarily speechless as you clench your fist in frustration.

“What?” he continues, his tone sharp. “You don’t like it when I speak the truth? Because that’s what it was. It was just a drunk accident.”

“Oh, so you’re speaking for me now?” you quip. “Who are you to say what it meant to me. I was the only one drunk last night, not you.” You feel your eyes getting wet as you fight back the tears that you desperately try to stop from falling, a lump in your throat from the pain of holding them back. “So, tell me Satoru, is that what it was for you?”

“What do you want me to say? That it meant something? That I’ve secretly been pining for you all this time?” He chuckles bitterly, his gaze hard as he looks up at you. "Sorry, sweetheart. It wasn’t anything more than what it was. If you want a friend to sleep with, why don’t you crawl over to Suguru. I’m sure he’d be happy to please you."

The second the words leave his lips he instantly regrets them. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes the weight of his hurtful words, the stoic front he was maintaining crumbles as he watches a teardrop trickle down your smooth cheek, its salty wetness carving a path of sorrow. He knew that he took it too far. He was trying to push you away, to protect you from himself, protect you from his true feelings.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep his own emotions in check. He hates himself for making you feel this way… but his own fears, his own insecurities, have gotten the better of him. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at you apologetically.

"I... I didn’t..." he attempts to backtrack. But before he can find the right words to say, the sound of your choked, heartbroken gasp makes him freeze.

“You have some real nerve, Gojo.” He can see the hurt, anger, and frustration in your expression, the tears were really coming out now. You felt shattered, feeling as if last night meant nothing to him – as if you meant nothing to him.

You turn your back to him as you shift towards the door, and angling your head to the side, you speak your final peace before ultimately taking your leave. “You know what? At least Suguru is vulnerable with me about his feelings. I’m done. If you won’t even listen to what I have to say, what’s the point. Guess I’ll save my breath.”

The sound of your trembling voice pierces through his chest like a knife, pained and frustrated. He clenches his jaw, fighting back his own emotions and the growing guilt that threatens to overwhelm him.

As he watches you leave, the door swings shut behind you. He’s left alone with the silence of his office suffocating him. Every fiber of him screams to go to you, to apologize, to explain himself, but he simply can’t move and the words he wants to say feel stuck in his throat.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. He rests his arms on his desk and buries his face into his hands, his mind replaying the scene over and over again. He knows he’s royally fucked up – the damage is done.

∘₊✧

The sound of your footsteps echo in the campus hallways as you wipe the streaming tears off your face. Oh god, please don’t let anyone see you like this right now. You really can’t bear it. Right now, all you want is to just crawl into bed and cry. Your best friend’s words are ringing in your mind, each retelling making the tears fall harder. You felt so stupid. So embarrassed.

You push through what feels like a never-ending hallway until finally, stepping outside, you are met with Suguru leaned up against the rail of the stairway, waiting for you. He looks relaxed as always, eyes peering out through the Jujutsu campus, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke gently curling in the air around him.

When he looks up, the sight of your tear-stained face makes him straighten up immediately. Your expression is one of raw emotional pain. Without a second thought, he quickly stubs out his cigarette and pushes himself off the railing, walking directly towards you, his voice laced with worry.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You don’t know what else to do, desperate for comfort, you run into Suguru’s arms, tears streaming down your face as you sob into his shirt. As you collapse into his arms, the force of your body against him is almost enough to knock him off balance, but he steadies himself, wrapping his arms around you as he holds you tightly against his chest. He's silent for a moment, just letting you cry, his hand gently rubbing soothing circles on your back.

After some time, he speaks, his voice gentle and filled with concern. "Y/n... what happened?"

You exhale sharply, your breath quivering as it escapes your mouth. Sniffling, you dry your eyes and shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Please.. can we just go?”

Suguru looks down at you, his heart clenching at the sight of your broken expression. He nods silently, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your back. "Yeah," he replies softly. "Let's get out of here."

He gently releases you from his embrace, keeping one arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guides you away from Jujutsu High.

∘₊✧

The car ride with Suguru is quiet. For your planned talk tonight, he had arranged for reservations at a charming little restaurant in a peaceful village. He briefly mentioned how he recently discovered it on an assignment he was sent on. Truth be told, you feel a bit guilty, him doing all this. After all, he went through all this trouble, and it appears that he’s willing to put his best effort forward to have a real, mature conversation with you about how he tried to kiss you last night. Suguru means so much to you, but as much as you hate to admit it, you simply can’t reciprocate his feelings, and you know that tonight will likely lead to some sort of heartache. You’ve been dreading this conversation; likely due to fear you’ve been bottling up – part of you hopes that your friendship doesn’t falter because of this. You’ve already lost one best friend today… frankly you don’t think you can handle losing another.

Suguru steals glances at you every so often as he drives through the village. He can sense your quiet demeanor and the lingering traces of sadness in your face. It’s clear that you’re still upset about something, but he doesn’t dare to pry, allowing you to have some space to collect your thoughts.

When he pulls up in front of the restaurant, he turns off the ignition and looks at you. "We’re here," he says softly, his voice gentle and tinged with concern.

As you enter the restaurant, the quaint atmosphere immediately begins to soothe your weary soul. The gentle music playing, the soft hue, and the smell of delicious food wafting through the air work together to create a warm and comforting environment.

Suguru leads you to a cozy booth in a somewhat secluded corner of the restaurant and slides in opposite of you.

His eyes study you silently. He watches as your gaze roams around the room, taking in the ambiance of the restaurant, before finally you focus on him. “The food here is pretty good,” he comments, attempting to break the ice between you. “I hope you like it.”

“Mmm,” you hum, nodding. “It smells amazing. I’m really hungry. I barely ate this morning. My stomach was turning all day from last night.”

Suguru winces slightly as memories of last night resurface in his mind. "Yeah… about last night," his voice tentative. "We should probably talk about that."

“Right,” you lock eyes with him as let out a sigh. Might as well get straight to it. “Would you like to go first?”

"Alright…look," he begins, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. "I know things got a little out of hand last night. Firstly, I want to apologize for that. I didn’t mean to cross any boundaries with you…" he pauses momentarily, looking down at the table, taking a moment to steady himself before he looks back up at you.

"And secondly. I... I need to be honest with you. I love you. Like, romantically. I think you're beautiful, smart, kind. And honestly...I'm tired of hiding it. I’ve felt this way for a long time. And last night, it just felt like the right moment to tell you...to show you."

“I see…” you say, the weight of his confession is heavy. You can’t help but feel terrible. Here he was, taking accountability for his actions and being completely open with you... but you can’t lie to him about your feelings. And you didn’t want to string him along, it wouldn’t be right.

“Suguru, you’ve been one of my closest friends for a long time. I do love you, just not in the same way I think you feel about me… I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

Suguru’s expression softens as he listens to your words, a mixture of acceptance and disappointment washing over him.

"Yeah... I kind of thought that might be your answer, " he admits, his voice soft. "I just..." he pauses, running a hand through his hair, "I guess I needed to tell you, to try and see if maybe..."

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The silent 'maybe you would feel the same' hangs between you two.

You reach for his hand across the table and look into his eyes. “I appreciate you telling me… and apology accepted. Sometimes people can get carried away when they’re drunk… call it, the heat of the moment,” you give him a soft smile. The words you speak pull at your heart a bit, as they are not only directed to him… but to yourself and your own actions.

"Yeah..." he responds quietly. "Heat of the moment." He laces his fingers through yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

The waiter interrupts as he approaches you both, asking if you are ready to order. Both Suguru and you attempt to shake off the lingering awkward atmosphere.

After the waiter leaves, Suguru looks back up at you suddenly with concern, his gaze searching your features. "But...does this change things? Does it change our friendship?"

“That’s the question I should be asking you. I’m okay with putting this behind us but you need to consider if you’re comfortable being around me Suguru… I’d really hate to cause you more heartache.”

He regards you for a moment, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Hey," he says gently, "You know me. I'm not one to let heartbreak keep me down."

There's a pause as he gathers his thoughts, his expression growing more serious. "As for being around you...I’d rather that not change. You're one of my best friends. I think we've been through too much together to let something like this come between us."

“You’re right,” you smile. “Our friendship can get us through this. Nothing will get between it.”

The waiter brings your food and you both dive into your plates eagerly. The atmosphere between you two slowly starts to feel more comfortable as you enjoy your meals, the food helping to lift your spirits. Suguru can see the color slowly returning to your face as you eat, the tension in your shoulders slowly relaxing. He glances at you every so often, studying your expression, and he can't help but notice the slight dark circles under your eyes, a clear sign of the stress and lack of sleep you've been experiencing lately.

“You’ve been looking pretty tired as of late,” he notes. “How was work today?”

You exhale, where to begin? While you’d like to confide in Suguru about Satoru, you want to be considerate of his feelings. You know you’ll have to tell him eventually, but that conversation would likely sting too much right now, so maybe it’s best to leave Satoru out for the time being.

“This pain in the ass hangover didn’t do me any favors,” you chuckle. “I’m a real idiot for taking you up on that drinking challenge.”

Suguru’s lips curl into a grin and he snickers, “Hey, I tried to warn you. When will you learn your lesson?”

“I know, I know. I’m just lucky that Nanami was assigned as my mission partner today, or I likely wouldn’t be sitting here with you. You should’ve seen the nasty curse that almost got me.”

The sound of his cutlery suddenly becomes quiet, you feel the atmosphere change instantly. You look up to see his face, hauntingly zoned out, a burning rage simmering under him. His usual calm expression hardens, his knuckles turning white as he grips his fork tightly.

"What... what do you mean a curse almost got you?" he finally asks, his voice strained as his words carry an eerie bite.

“It’s nothing really,” you say nonchalantly, a failed attempt to play it off.

"Right," he says sarcastically, a bitter edge to his voice. "It's nothing to worry about. Just another near-death experience. Just another day of risking our lives for people who don't even appreciate it. Just another day of putting ourselves on the line for those who would never do the same for us."

You halt the movement of your fork, frozen momentarily as you’re caught off guard from his sudden shift in attitude. “Suguru, it’s okay. Nanami saved me—”

“And what if Nanami wasn’t there,” he cuts you off, slamming his hands on the table, his volume rising. “It’s not fair that we have to risk ourselves for these damn non-sorcerers … these monkeys.”

There is a loud silence between you as his furrowed stare pierces into you. You’re left speechless, unsure what to say to him. He grips your hand and the violet hue in his iris’ appear to be void of everything. You don’t even recognize him.  

"They don't understand the sacrifices we make y/n," his words cold. "Yet we're the ones who bear the burden. We're the ones who have to risk our lives everyday just to keep them safe, and for what?”

You begin to feel a bit nervous as people’s wandering eyes peer to the scene unfolding amongst you both – murmurs echo throughout the restaurant. Suddenly, your waiter walks over, gripping his notepad under a tense grip in support. “Is everything oka—”

Before the waiter finishes his sentence, you watch blood splatter across Suguru’s cheek. You blink – did your eyes deceive you? Suguru just killed an innocent civilian. The waiter, who moments ago was speaking to you both, now lays motionless on the ground, blood pooling around his lifeless body. There is no denying it… right?

The once peaceful restaurant erupts into chaos, horrified gasps and screams filling the air as all eyes turn to look at Suguru, who remains perfectly calm. Civilians around you are running in panic as they try to get away from the scene of the crime.

Suguru simply sits there, his expression blank. There is no remorse in his eyes – only a cold emptiness. He raises a hand, wiping the blood from his cheek with his thumb, before finally speaking. "That was annoying... I despise monkeys."

Suguru's swift and violent act shocks you to the core, causing your heart to race with fear and disbelief. “Suguru…” you manage to finally mutter, your voice catching in your throat from fright.

He looks at you, his expression still hauntingly neutral, as if all he simply did was swat a fly away. "Yeah? What is it?"

“What… what did you just do?” you ask slowly, your voice quivering in fear.

Suguru regards you for a moment, his gaze calculating as he takes in your trembling voice and fearful expression. "I merely got rid of an annoyance," he replies coolly, his voice emotionless. "A mosquito that wouldn't leave me alone. Nothing more."

Reaching for his napkin, he dabs it against his cheek with a look of disgust as he cleans off the lingering remnants of blood left from the waiter. Was this the same person you were casually talking to moments ago? The same person who held you in his arms while you cried? No. Who is this person? Every fiber of your being is telling you to run, but you cannot move, frozen in fear.

“You know y/n. My last mission got me thinking.” He casually leans back in his seat, crossing his arms as he looks at you. “Wouldn’t it be better to live in a world of just sorcerers? If these monkeys didn’t exist, curses wouldn’t be born. We could finally be free.”

You watch him intently as he begins to lift himself from his seat. A fierce cursed spirit begins to manifest behind him whilst emitting blue flames. The blaze dances around him, a sinister aura. “I bet we could make this dream a reality. You... me and Satoru.”

The air around you feels tense and thick with the shock of Suguru's statement. His words hang there ominously, the coldness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

"That's a dangerous thing to say, Suguru," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "A very dangerous thing..."

"Imagine it," he continues, approaching closer to you. "A world where we are the only ones to walk amongst the living. No more weak, worthless monkeys to hold us back. Just the strong. Just us."

"And Satoru?... You think he would agree with you?" you rasp as Suguru stops in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face as he answers your question.

"Satoru..." he muses, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "He'll understand. It may take a bit of convincing, but he'll listen. He always does. He’s the most important piece – we need the strongest."

He reaches out, his hand gently caressing your cheek, his touch almost tender compared to his cold words. “He’ll come. Especially if you join. After all, he’s always been unable to say no to you.”

Your eyes expand as the realization hits you. Was Suguru using you as a tool? Your stomach spins. You’re not sure what to believe anymore – was his confession even real? What happened to this man standing in front of you, the man you once considered to be one of your dearest friends.

“Suguru…” you say, tears welling in your eyes. “You can’t do this.”

“Now y/n, don’t say that,” he muses, his voice eerily tantalizing. “After all, you’re my best friend. What was it you said earlier? Our friendship can get through this. Nothing will get between it.”

There's a hint of mockery in Suguru's tone as he repeats your words back to you. It's almost as if he's taunting you. He leans in closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him more fully. His expression is cold and calculating, like a predator sizing up his prey.

"See? You said it yourself. Our friendship is unbreakable. That means you'll stand by me, no matter what. That means you'll listen, when I tell you something, right?"

You swallow hard and speak slowly, aware that the next words you utter will ultimately decide your fate. “I can’t, Suguru.”

“Can't?" Suguru repeats, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. He leans in closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. "You can't? Or you won't?"

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his breath dance on your face. You open them and stare deeply into the eyes you once thought were warm and filled with love. “I won’t kill innocent people Suguru.”

Suguru's face suddenly twists into a scowl, his voice is dangerously soft. “After everything we’ve been through, after I’ve trusted you with my deepest secrets, my most intimate thoughts...and you still say no?” His hand drops from your face as he takes a step back. The coldness in his gaze becomes more intense as his eyes narrow. “It’s a shame really. I always cared for you. How…disappointing.”

Chaos erupts as the cursed spirit behind Suguru lets out a screeching roar. The blue flame expands, engulfing the village, casting a hell-bent inferno over everything. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning wood. Screams and cries echo in the air as people run in panic – they search for any salvation as they desperately attempt to flee the hungry flames devouring them.

You are locked in a vicious battle with Suguru, your bodies moving like blurs amidst the carnage and destruction around you. The once peaceful village becomes decimated before you. Buildings are reduced to nothing more than smoldering ruins, the putrid stench of death.

Suguru shows no mercy, his strength and power overwhelming. But despite his ruthless force, he intentionally chooses to leave you alive, though badly beaten and injured. As the smoke and flames of the battle clear, you find yourself lying on the ground, barely conscious. You open your eyes to see Suguru standing over you, his expression cold and void.

"I truly wish it hadn't come to this," he mutters to himself. “If you change your mind… come find me.”

Your vision begins to falter, and you can barely make out the figure walking away from you, but you know without a doubt it’s Suguru. He leaves you there, alone and helpless.

Fumbling for your phone with what little strength you have left, you try multiple times to unlock it, hitting the incorrect digits over and over again while desperately trying to remain conscious. You finally get past your home screen, and you click through your contacts. There is only one person who comes to your mind – one person for you to reach out to. As you tap Satoru’s name, you use every last bit of energy you have to send him your current location – nothing else.

The world around you goes dark, and you slip into unconsciousness.

✧ thanks for reading! part two will have fluff :') read part two here.

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl @kazbrkker @moneyy-21 @tifa1991

[mimimui]

genshin boys when you're sick

includes: albedo, childe, scaramouche, tighnari

tags: established relationship, fluff, endearments, teasing from scaramouche, scara has an anemo vision here

a/n: I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR SCARA + it was only supposed to be hcs but i got carried away :') tmi i should be bedridden rn so idk how i'm still able to write this .. enjoy !

"(y/n)," albedo calls out, moving from his desk to your bedside. it's been a while since you stepped foot in dragonspine, so the effects its weather had on you wasn't surprising. "are you feeling better?" he asks, to which you reply with a painful cough.

albedo sighs worriedly, bringing his hand to your forehead to assess your body temperature. "i can't let you stay at my tent, your temperature won't go down here," he says, thinking of ways to bring you back to mondstadt. you're wrapped up in his coat, shivering from the cold.

"bedo, i'm fine," you say weakly to reassure him. "we can walk down dragonspine, i just need to wear more layers." you sit up from the bed, but then your spliting headache makes you wince. "ow..." you complain, and albedo is quick to wrap his arms around you.

"my love, i'll ask for knights to pick you up from here." albedo rubs your back gently, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. his comfort doesn't take away the pain of your headache, but it's reassuring. "thank you, bedo," you say softly.

"i'll take care of you while they get here. get well soon, my love."

childe is instantly worried about you when teucer tells him you've been in bed all day. he opens the door to his bedroom to see you wrapped in a mountain of blankets. usually, he'd find it cute, but he has a feeling you're sick.

"darling, i'm home," he says, pulling the blankets down to see you sniffling underneath. he regrets answering to his mission when he sees you sick. "(y/n), i'm sorry, i shouldn't have left you alone." childe quickly damps a towel with cool water, placing it on your forehead gently.

"it's okay, ajax, you didn't know." you hold his hand and smile weakly at him. his pouting face easily makes you laugh, but your happiness is short-lived as you sneeze again, which makes childe squeeze your hand. "i can go to the pharmacy to get you medicine, but i don't want to leave you alone again..."

"i'll be fine, you can head out to the pharmacy."

"maybe i can ask tonia to head out for me-"

"ajax." he laughs at your suddenly stern tone, saying he was just joking.

"i'll be back, darling. wait for me, will you?"

constant 'i told you so's flood your ears as you watch scaramouche wring your jacket before hanging it on a branch. you two were casually out on a walk when it began to rain. this didn't stop you, however, as you cheerfully ran around.

scaramouche took protection from under a tree, scoffing as he sees you enjoying the rainfall. the rain has since then stopped, and now your sopping, sneezing, body sits next to his legs. "i told you the rain would make you sick."

"i know, you've told me like, 20 times now." you cross your arms as you sneeze again, earning a loud sigh from scaramouche. he finally sits down, but you don't look at him, as you sneeze once more in the other direction.

his constant scolding was getting a bit irritating until you felt a gust of wind coming from beside you. you turn to look at scaramouche, whose head was facing the other way. his hand was producing a constant source of anemo, which was slowly drying your clothes.

"you always play in the rain and get sick and guess whose liability you become? mine!"

"i'm sorry..." "ha? why are you sorry? anyway,"

lucky for you, tighnari is the best at taking care of others when they're sick. he knows exactly what medicine they need and how much rest they should get. "stay in bed, dearest, you're still sick." one problem: he doesn't let you do anything.

even if it's just a small cough or cold, he's quick to make sure you stay in bed. he always makes sure to stay with you though, so it's not all that bad. when he has to go out, he asks collei to watch you for him. of course collei is worried about you as well, but she at least lets you have a little more freedom.

"don't tell tighnari you let me go out, okay?" you and collei went for a stroll just outside your hut, the nice breeze being easy to breath in. "i won't (y/n)," she whispers, not wanting to get caught by the other forest rangers who don't know you're out of bed.

as you and collei enjoy your stroll, you hear a familiar voice in the distance, and a shiver runs down your spine. "..collei, i have to run," you tell her, and she nods her head. tighnari got back earlier than you thought, and he caught you both outside the hut. "(y/n)! hey!"

you run, or rather, jog, away from tighnari as he (slowly) chases you. you laugh as you playfully scream, the other forest rangers admiring the sight of the two of you playing cat and mice. when he finally catches up to you, he grabs your wrist and drags you back to your hut. "nari, i just wanted to go for walk."

"i know, but as your caretaker, it's my job to look after you. get better first, and then we can walk all you want."

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[joonipertree]

idea for the Boxer!Katsuki and Artist!Reader AU! What if, ON TOP OF a rly bad day w college and being overwhelmed w work, we lost our paints :( n we luv our paints so we cry, but katsuki’s there to make us feel better and get us a new set :3

Thank you so fucking much for this. Idk if you knew but I'm actually making a portfolio for art school and Ive been crying every other night because of how stressed I am and how much I feel like I'm a bad artist. So writing this was cathartic

Part 1, Part 2

Tags: Dom/sub undertones, reader acting out and Bakugo being stern, a peak of what kind of shit I want with older men hsjsjsj, fluff, hurt/comfort, soft katsuki

Katsuki was one of the last people you wanted to see when you're in a bad mood. And that might sound terrible but it's because you never wanted to show such a harsh, negative side of yourself to someone you cared about. You were very much a 'feel and then reappear more regulated' type of person. But Katsuki never let you go home on your own anymore, picking you and dropping you off even on days where he had something to do.

So you trotted towards him with a scowl and no energy to fake anything and he noticed instantly, his own concerned scowl mirroring yours.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." You said and opened the door, closing it a bit too loudly. You cringed at the sound but buckled yourself in and turned away before the man got in the driver's seat.

"You're shit at lying."

"Fuck off."

Instant regret, a deep inhale from your part as you tensed.

Fuck.

His large hand came on your thigh and you stiffened, all he did was give it a warning squeeze before pulling away. The message was clear. 'Watch it'.

"I'm not willing to discipline you until I know nothing horrible happened but you do know I don't like that shit from you right?"

You said nothing.

"Give me an answer, doll."

"I'm an adult."

"Yeah, you are. And you're a smart one that knows that we have rules. That I'd be taking you over my lap if you talked like that."

Tears pricked your eyes but you blinked them away, not willing to turn your head to show him.

He knew anyways and he dropped the subject, starting the car and driving off.

Katsuki pulled to a stop at a place that wasn't anywhere near your apartment. You were confused as he got out of the car. Your eyes followed him just as he entered a boba shop.

Oh.

A couple minutes later, he came out with a drink for each of you. You remembered when he said that there just wasn't any point of it, that it seemed stupid and too sweet. But pretty soon, he had his own usual order, which was just Brown Sugar boba tea with the sweetness to a minimum.

Katsuki gave you the drink without even looking your way, sipping on his own. You stared at it for a total of ten seconds before timidly taking a sip. The sweetness broke you out of your sour mood, eyes blinking as you focused on the flavour of your favourite tea. The boba was chewy and soft and it grounded you a bit.

Only after you took a sip, did Katsuki start the car and drive.

When you reached home, the apartment the two of you had started sharing a month prior, Katsuki only gave you time to take off your shoes and put down your bag before he had you over his shoulder.

You struggled, hitting his back and asking him to let you go but he didn't listen...not even feeling it.

And when your ass plopped itself onto the couch, your attempt at running away failed when he easily manhandled you in place.

"I'm not patient enough to coax it out of you, so tell me why you're upset. I'll make it better."

You wanted to refuse but the tears were already dripping down your face.

"I'm so bad at art. I'm so f-fucking bad at it. I don't-" you sobbed and his arms were instantly around you, pulling you onto his lap as you cried into him.

"There's so many deadlines and so many things I have to do and nothing is working. And I don't even know if I'm cut out to be an artist. I'm not good enough, I was never good enough for it. I'm gonna fail-- Katsuki I'm so tired."

Your boyfriend rocked you back and forth, giving you kisses everywhere he could reach, on the side of your face and your head and your hair. And you let the tears fall, hiccuping violently and sobbing without restraint.

"I even lost my fucking paints and I can't live without them and I saved up for them and I'm just doing everything wrong."

You let Katsuki envelope you, squeeze you and warm your inside as you let it all out.

When your sobs died down, Katsuki didn't stop peppering kisses everywhere. It took him a second to speak.

"I didn't know shit about art. It all seemed like fancy, time consuming pictures to me. Hell, even now I don't know shit. But when I saw your art, I felt stuff I thought I didn't know how to feel. And that was the first time I realised that maybe life didn't have to be as shitty as it was. Maybe things didn't have to be ugly."

"When we went to those art galleries, yeah they were cool and pretty but not gonna lie, nothing ever left me speechless like your art did. And yeah...I'm biased as fuck, especially because I thought that the look in your eyes was the prettiest out of everything. That sounds cheesy as shit but you make me feel cheesy as shit."

You had stopped crying, left drained and nuzzled against Katsuki while you looked for an anchor to hold onto. And he held you.

"I like seeing you paint the most though, I like how you focus...I like how you curse under your breath, I like how you grin when something looks right, I like how you scan art supplies before you buy them. I like your paint stained hands and your paint water mugs even when I've accidently taken a sip from them. I like that how you laugh when I do that shit. I love that look of pride you have when you're done and staring at it.

It makes you happy so even if I don't understand the point of it, it means a lot to me because of that. So, whenever that thing stops being fun for you, and really stops being fun for you, I'll support you if you wanna stop. But I gotta keep seeing your work, baby, cuz it's like the inside of your head and it's really neat."

You let a few more tears drop, sniffling and looking into his eyes. There was no ingenuity, only pure emotion. And you let him kiss your tears away, you let him pat your head and you let him make you drink water and feed you.

Because it was never a burden for him to do those things, but a priveledge.

The very next day, the same set of paints were in your bag. Brand new and untouched. Along with three different watercolour paper books. 100% pure cotton, 350 gcm.

With a note that said 'you're still down for a spanking for that shitty mouth of yours. Don't make it a habit.'

[miks-delusional-blog]

Hair- Mizu x fem! reader

Tags: Fluff, mild angst? (Again idk how to tag guys, somebody who does know please tell me that would be amazing <3), gender reveal (reader discovers Mizu is a woman), mentions injury and violence, maybe a slow burn? (might make into a series)

Notes: in 2nd person (you), 995 words, Mizu x fem! reader

Context: you and Mizu are friends with romantic tension, also it’s a bit awkward between you two after you find out she’s a woman

A/N: Hello there. Fanfiction. Read it. Hope you enjoy. I’m going to get back to doing school work now. Or I’ll procrastinate and make a part 2. 

Also this is inspired by a scene that was cut from the show where Mizu plays with her hair.

Toodles, love Yamz x

Mizu huffed, frustrated as she tried to tie up her hair. It was normally a simple task, however, on this morning it was not. 

In a scuffle with some assassins, Mizu had hurt her arm quite badly. Although it was the day after the battle, the pain still lingered. Pain was not the only thing that lingered, but an awkward air. After yesterday’s battle, you treated Mizu’s injured arm, finding out that Mizu was not the man you thought she was.

She was a woman.

The image of your shocked face when you pulled down her haori lingered in her mind, like a reflection in a window pane. 

The two of you sat on the floor of the inn, with a noticeable gap, getting ready for the day. Her annoyed huff brought you to look up from the mirror you were holding. You turned to her chuckling softly, “You alright over there?”

She shot you a small glare. “I’m fine.” She attempted to tie her hair up again but the strands cascaded out of her grasp. Her arm fell to her side, she sighed a little defeated.

You crawled behind her, propping yourself up on your knees. Taking the hair tie from her hand, you began gathering her hair together.

Mizu hesitated before uttering, “What are you doing?”

“Shaving your hair off.” you casually remarked as you brushed the knots out of her long hair with your fingers.

Mizu jerked her head back to face you, grabbing your wrist.

“I’m joking! I’m tying up your hair, obviously.” you laughed.

Mizu’s lips curled to a frown, her grip loosening. 

“Just let me help you out.” She let you move her head so she faced away from you. You shuffled a little closer to her, her back up against your front as you continued brushing through her hair.

Mizu relaxed a little as your fingers softly graced her. She thought of how gentle you were with her. Something she wasn’t used to. 

Her usual contact with people tended to be violent to say the least.

Mizu thought of a time before she had to shave her hair as a child. How her mother would tug and pull at her hair, telling her to sit still. 

Your touch was nothing like her mothers.

You were careful and soft, touching her as if she was silk.

Mizu closed her eyes with a small sigh of relief as you gathered all her hair into one hand, using your other to smooth out any bumps.

“Sorry I don’t have a comb. I think I lost it in the heat of things yesterday. Hands are nature's comb anyway.” 

Mizu hummed in response, melting under the way your hands moved through her hair.

“All done.” You pick up the mirror, holding it so Mizu could see your handy work.

She opened her eyes, catching yours in the reflection.

“Not bad right?” You smiled at her through the mirror.

Mizu smiled back, “not bad. You didn’t shave it off.” 

“Don’t give me ideas.” You tried to brush her cowlick behind her ear but it failed to stick.

Turning around, she chuckled. The two of you became face to face “for every strand of hair you cut, is a finger lost on your hands.”

You felt the heat of her words touch your face, eyes widening slightly at your closeness . You sit back on your feet, creating a bit more distance between the two of you. “Well I guess my fingers are safe.”

“For now.” Mizu smirked.

You crossed your arms, hiding your hands away from her. You playfully glare at her which she returns before the two of you start laughing. 

After the laughter subsides, Mizu gazes at you with soft eyes. “Thanks…Uh for helping me with my hair.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.” 

“I won’t be like this for long.” She adjusted the sleeve of her haori. 

“I know. You always spring back quickly. By the end of the day you’ll probably be fighting the whole town with no problem. And even if you’re not, and you still need my help, I’ll do your hair.”

Mizu smiles again, bowing her head slightly. “Thank you.” She paused thoughtfully, her gaze lowering to the floor.

Noticing the slight shift in mood, you offered a kind smile. “Everything okay?”

“It’s nothing.” Her eyes flickered to yours.

“There’s always something.”

“It’s just… I don’t understand.” She looked down at her hands.

“What is it you don’t understand?”

“How can you be so normal? You know my secret. I’ve been deceiving you for so long… How can you act like it’s okay?” Her blue eyes gazed into yours with worry.

“Because it is okay.”

“But I lied to you. I am not a man.” 

You took a breath, one which felt like an eternity to Mizu. “Listen, I understand why hide the truth from everyone. It’s easier to walk as a man in our world than it is to crawl as a woman, and it’s easier to keep a secret if you’re the only one who knows it.”

“Well… Ringo knew.”

“What?!” You exclaimed. Mizu winced slightly.

After a brief pause you continued, “That’s… fine. A-anyway, my point still stands. I’m not angry or upset with you because I get it.”

Mizu stayed quiet, reflecting on your words. After a moment, she speaks. “You are very kind to me… I’m not sure if I am deserving of it.” 

“Well, I give my kindness to whomever I want so whether you think you deserve it is not for you to decide.” You crossed your arms. “I think you are deserving of my kindness and compassion, and you’re not the boss of me so, nyeh.” Your serious facade couldn’t stay up as you began smiling.

Mizu chuckles, putting her hands up in defeat. “OK, OK, I won’t talk more about it.”

“So we’re OK?” You asked carefully but with a smile gracing your lips.

“We’re good.”

“Good.”

[eluxcastar]

The little brotherfication of Dottore

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: menace little sibling 2: electric boogaloo

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child dottore, he's kinda clingy (and traumatised), use of dottore's suspected real name (possibly confirmed Idk)

୨୧﹑words :: 1.1k

someone on the tags of the Capitano post said Dottore so Dottore comes next, then probably Pantalone and then Signora unless I get a request or something for someone else

all little siblingification posts

As a child, Dottore's interests were seldom accepted. He was shunned by teachers, avoided by his peers and scolded by his own parents. It's not hard to see why, but he would not simply give up on his curiosity, especially not with you backing him. Admittedly, even you find it a little strange, and he can see that, but the way his eyes light up whenever he tells you about it and his excitement to be able to talk to someone finally has you pushing that aside very quickly.

How much of it do you understand? Not a word, but the point is that you listen at all. He clings to that and treats you like his only friend, which considering how unpopular he is with kids his age, is just about true.

Zandik would sit down with the one or two books he managed to scrounge for information and practically recite their contents to you. It is well beyond what you were able to follow, but if he notices, he doesn't tell you. Why would he want to? Having someone smile while he shares all of his hard work and perseverance is all he wants. He wouldn't sabotage that.

He's quiet when idle, however, with years of being shut down showing through as he stays swinging off of you. Your arms and legs are basically a hanging post to him, no matter how heavy he gets and how close he is to feeling like he could dislocate your arm right out of the socket. It's his way of making sure he doesn't get lost from you and playing around. Like a puppy, he never seems to realise he got bigger until you physically can't pick him up.

It upsets him to find he is now effectively permanently grounded, as his father will hear none of it when he asks him to be picked up, but he can't get stuck on that forever. Zandik doesn't want you to hurt yourself trying to get him off the floor, and pestering your parents only makes trouble for you.

He will not at any point allow you to stop playing with his hair, the other idle action between the two of you as you wrap his loose blue curls around your fingers. Zandik likes to read while he deals himself over your lap like an intrusive cat, mostly because he wants to get your attention and sometimes wants to annoy you. He spends half his life griping for your attention, pulling on your clothes and waving his hands around in your face until you ask him what he wants, quite irritated. He's always giggling about it too.

You always make time for him, especially when he wants to see the Aranara he gets so excited about. He might burst a blood vessel if you don't take him. Your parents don't want to hear of his childishness, though they prefer it to everything else he does. However, they won't take him themselves, so it falls to you. It is a special trip that takes several days of you experiencing life in the rainforests, glimpsing into the luxury of Sumeru City. It is then he proves to you that regardless of whether you take him or not, he'll burst a blood vessel anyway because his excitement is immeasurable. You're pleased enough to see him so happy, however.

Your love is unfortunately not enough to get him friends or the approval of everyone else. Usually, people think of you as polar opposites because of how 'troubled' he is, even if there's not that much that's different about you at all. You are Zandik's only person to confide in as he's grown so resentful of everyone. Somewhere in his mind, he still believes all that they say about him no matter how many times you wipe his tears and tell him you love him.

He doesn't believe that could be true. He believes all the things people say about him and how horrible he is. Nobody could really love a person like him, right? Zandik asks you as much, if you really love him as you say you do. Of course you do. It's just hard for him to accept that's real when he's so isolated.

Really, you haven't seen him for years now. You visit him while he is attending the Akademiya, and bring him food that you used to make him as a child. Even for only a few days, your company is exactly what it always has been. Zandik spends those days telling you everything he's learned and about how everyone else is repulsed by it and believes he's nothing but trouble. The difference is that he became used to it and began to believe what you would tell him about them being old-fashioned.

You cry when you find him there, having not seen him in so long and having spent all of the time since looking for him. Zandik is taller, older and has a scar that tapered down his face. You cry when you see that too, and it startles him into thinking you don't love him anymore if he isn't as cute as he used to be. That is untrue. He quickly learns the reason you were crying was something as minor as not being able to protect him from it, not being there to care for him.

That's so silly, isn't it? He doesn't need you for that.

He really wishes you'd never come back, in fact, that you'd given up and gone home content to live your life without him, but you couldn't, and it has you seeing him be expelled from the Akademiya. Zandik doesn't want to come home, so you don't make him.

Again, he drapes himself over your lap like an attention-starved cat and allows you to play with his hair while he wallows in his misery.

Zandik will figure something out eventually. He always does. If figuring it out entails abandoning himself and accepting an offer to go to Snezhnaya to move to a place where he will have the facilities to do whatever he wants, then that's what he'll do. If figuring it out requires that he leave for a time, then it'll be fine, as you tell him. He'll mail letters to you.

He'll wait for you to find him, no longer Zandik, but no less your little brother.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[kafus]

my orre colosseum team

i spent the past month or so on-and-off breeding this team for orre colosseum in XD gale of darkness, a postgame challenge i've never played through before. the long time was mostly due to being in bagon hatching purgatory for weeks

i planned out the whole team before breeding it. orre colosseum is basically like gen 3 VGC - bring 6, pick 4 with team preview, no repeating held items, battles are in doubles format. there's not anything else quite like it in gen 3 especially because team preview wasn't the standard yet, so i was kind of in the dark when it came to teambuilding. i knew orre colosseum NPCs had preplanned teams by the devs, not randomized out of a pool of pokemon sets like the tower/frontier , which is more in line with the original stadium games, and it was usually considered a fairly difficult challenge, so i had to give it some thought

this is what i ended up with after skimming some resources for the orre colosseum format played by real players, but not checking orre colosseum teams in advance as i wanted to be surprised. the IVs here are weird since like i said, i spent like a month breeding these pokemon manually (hatched around 2000 eggs overall give or take, i wasn't counting all of them) so their IVs aren't perfect across the board.

the main two things i was keeping in mind while teambuilding were speed, protection from explosion/self-destruct, and spread moves that affect the whole field. tailwind and trick room don't exist yet and speed control options are very limited in gen 3, so base speed and training in speed is really important. additionally spread moves that affect the whole field like earthquake and explosion don't have their damage cut the same way moves that only target both opponents do in this gen, so they're extremely powerful and a team needs to both have access to these options and be able to defend from these options.

i was also hellbent on not using any legendaries (box legendaries and mythicals are banned from orre colosseum AKA restricteds, but legendaries like the kanto bird trio are allowed) and not using metagross or gengar, two of the gen 3 doubles GOATs and... idk i'm just tired of using them frankly, i feel like i have enough skill to beat NPC opponents without them, even if they're tougher. so that's why i don't have pokemon like latios on the team, etc.

i will admit that while teambuilding i completely forgot about rock resistance which is pretty relevant in gen 3 in general... i have THREE pokemon weak to rock and no resisted switch-ins. BUT all rock moves in gen 3 are physical, and i have three intimidate users, so instead of changing up the team i was already attached to after realizing this, i just decided to roll with it.

anyway with all that out of the way and the acknowledgement that this team isn't perfect, i'll explain the pokemon one by one:

first up, tangerine! she was actually the pokemon i teambuilt first and was most excited to use since i got really attached to the persian i used in my recent firered nuzlocke named after my friend zur. in fact, she stems from zur's bloodline so i let zur name her, and they picked tangerine lol. other than just wanting to use one of my current favorites though, persian actually has really nice moveset options for doubles - fake out is not common but is incredibly useful in any doubles format, and icy wind is one of the very few speed control moves in gen 3. double-edge with silk scarf rounds her off with some big damage and shadow ball lets her hit ghost types... though i'll admit protect is definitely more optimal here instead of shadow ball, i just really wanted to use shadow ball because of an ongoing inside joke with zur & co about it (look up the tag #/freakylocke on my blog and you'll find it eventually)

i've played three rounds of orre colosseum so far, so the easier ones, but tangerine has been popping off, she's very useful i'm so proud of her.

tenchi the arcanine is next, also a pokemon i was hellbent on using. during my firered nuzlocke i was really excited to use arcanine since it's a version exclusive and i almost always play leafgreen, but my growlithe died early on from a careless crit, and after that i was determined to use arcanine in the battle tower or something to make up for that disappointment. i ended up routing that desire to orre colosseum instead! the aforementioned dead growlithe was also named after a friend, my friend babs, who picked out the name tenchi.

he's pretty straightforward - overheat does massive damage and ideally he gets to use it twice for free because of the white herb. hidden power grass provides extra coverage and extremespeed lets him pick off weakened opponents. protect lets allies safely use earthquake. also my first intimidate user!

next up, firegreen! bulbasaur was my favorite starter for most of my life until sprigatito came around and venusaur is still one of my most beloved pokemon. his name was recommended to me by my friend note. i was just really captivated by the comedic nature of his name, lol.

he's the team's weather control and has access to sleep powder. synergizes nicely with tenchi who can throw out really powerful overheats in the sun, even with a stat drop. and of course solarbeam is great in the sun.

his EV spread is really specific compared to most of the other pokemon on this team - he has enough speed to outspeed uninvested base 85 speed pokemon, he has enough HP/special defense to live a modest max special attack latios psychic, and the rest i dumped into special attack. this bulk has proven incredibly useful in some battles already so i'm glad i did his EVs the way i did. the slower sleep powders is also convenient for the following guaranteed sleep turn.

now louie the gyarados (named by my friend Serena who was once again a nuzlocke encounter from my firered nuzlocke lol) is kind of a weird one. at this point i knew i was probably going to use salamence, a flying type, and i wanted a second flying type (or levitate haver) for double earthquake immunity. i had also already added arcanine and venusaur to the team, fire and grass types, and fire/water/grass is a known good type combination on a team. so i combined these traits with gyarados - having yet another intimidate user isn't half bad to have either!

i bring him to battles more situationally, ie. in the first round i brought him against lovrina's obvious full stall team because taunt just absolutely decimated hr and prevented her from doing literally anything, even with taunt's crappy 2 turn length in gen 3. he's really meant as a support pokemon - speed control with thunder wave, taunt - and he's meant to stick around as long as possible and be annoying, hence protect and brightpowder (gen 3 doesn't have a lot of hold items so i figured i might as well). but of course i have at least one damaging option and i picked earthquake for that.

i don't remember exactly how i EV'd him but i do know i calculated his HP/defense to live... some rock move... so yeah his EVs improve his match-up into rock type attacks. i dumped the rest into attack, but i may adjust later to give him some speed if necessary, dunno. haven't needed it thus far.

now here's scramble, the only pokemon i actually named myself... her name takes after the sheer amount of eggs i hatched for her, over 800. it was torture. don't ask (lighthearted)

she's the premier damage output of this team and i often lead with tangerine and her so tangerine can use fake out and allow her to get off a substitute, which keeps her safe from most status moves and an attack, and then she can set up dragon dances and absolutely go to town with hidden power flying and earthquake.

i actually ran into a battle with a ditto out of the few battles i've played so far and wound up in a situation where i had to deal with the ditto copying scramble's own singular dragon dance and posing a huge threat to the rest of my team. intimidate really came to the rescue there lol

somehow she ended up being the only non-kanto pokemon on this team. that was not intentional.

and last but not least, scoop! my friend rat recommended the name ice cream scoop, which obviously doesn't fit within the 10 character limit, but i got really attached to the "scoop" part and went with that. he's very straightforward - incredibly fast max speed coverage that hits decently hard and can clean up games from the back. the lum berry is there to prevent him from getting paralyzed or otherwise have his cleanup stopped by status, an d he has protect for ally earthquakes, explosions, etc.

and yeah that's the team. i love them. they took such a ridiculously long time to put together but totally worth it. i'm excited to get back to more orre colosseum when i get the energy

[no1frogfan]

Impending, part 2

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~2.6k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, drugs (smokin a joint), semi-public sex (barely), fingering, p in v

Note: Vegeta fuckers rise up. (But for real everyone knows Android 18 is where it’s at.) I think this piece makes clear how big the Mattsun-shaped hole in my heart is. Thank you @prettyiwa for your keen editing eye :* And idk if you wanted to keep getting tagged in this series mica but in case you do @princesskazuya

part 1 | part 3

The first time he met you, Makki had invited him over to play games after school. It was only the second week of 4th grade, but they’d hit it off immediately. He was aware Makki had two siblings, and even though he was younger than Makki, Issei was still the oldest in his own family and the oldest among his cousins, so he was pretty sure his mature energy would garner your respect.

What he hadn’t anticipated was that…it didn’t.

Actually, you were the one who impressed him. You seemed to know all the things that middle schoolers knew and elementary schoolers didn’t, and right away he found himself on the back foot, wanting you to recognize him as an equal.

The second time he went to Makki’s house, he went prepared. This time, he was going to get more than a quick glance from you, so he picked out the coolest shirt he owned — dark gray, oversized, with Vegeta going Super Saiyan plastered across the front. When you opened the door and feigned a cough to hide your laugh, he realized he’d misfired again.

When he thinks back on his childhood memories of you, they were invariably like this — you out of reach and him just behind, you ahead and him in pursuit.

You were always polite to him, never mean, but never overly friendly either. And why would you be? He was the annoying friend of your annoying little brother. The two of them were constantly following you around trying to get you to take them to high school parties where they were sure they’d get their first sip of beer and their first kiss.

It’s just that somewhere along the way, he started hoping you would be his first kiss.

But the four-year age gap meant he didn’t get much of a chance. By the time he got to high school, you were away at college, and by the time he graduated college, well, you’d already started making headway with your career in Sendai, or so Makki said.

In that time, he’d graduated high school, college too, and now he’s pretty established in the family business. He still hangs out with Makki all the time, and he’s a fixture in the Hanamaki household, always making sure to visit your parents along with his own. It’s just that whenever he came over, you’d either just left, or were yet to arrive. The timing was never right.

The desire to impress you faded to near-nonexistence over the years. Near non-existence, because a tiny little part of him still keeps track of how long it’s been since he last saw you (until today: 11 years). So when Makki invited him over for a family barbecue and mentioned offhandedly that you were home visiting, well, that tiny little part of him may have decided to trade the usual basketball shorts and faded t-shirt for the shorts that hug his thighs and the shirt that shows off the physique he’s kept up even after volleyball.

He knew he’d have to endure some teasing, but he’s used to it at this point.

(Makki took one look at him in the doorway and doubled over laughing, “It’s never gonna happen, bro.”

Mattsun just shrugged. “Can’t blame me for wanting to shoot my shot.”

Makki did not like that turn of phrase.)

Anyway, he’s probably over you at this point. He’d almost convinced himself of that until the moment you appeared at the top of the basement steps.

Maybe there’s something about the basement. Back then, he was always playing games down here with Makki. The tv screen was much smaller at the time, and the basement wasn’t fully finished. The walls hadn’t been painted, the floor was just concrete, and the only furniture was a paint-stained coffee table, a lumpy old sofa, and a dirty bean bag chair. Your parents gave them their privacy though, and kept the old fridge downstairs stocked with soda, so to him, it was basically heaven.

You usually left him and Makki alone, but sometimes if you were really bored, or if it was too hot upstairs, or you were supposed to watch them while your parents were out, you’d hang out down here and play a round or two. Sometimes you’d complain about your friends or whoever you were dating at the time, and Makki would always take their side and he would always take yours, and afterward you’d jokingly berate your brother, Why can’t you be nice to me like Issei?

The way you called his name today with that pleased little lilt made his insides twist into familiar knots. When he chanced a peek…you looked stunning, even better than he remembered. Especially with a radiant glow from the afternoon sun, beads of sweat disappearing into your cleavage, and thighs spilling out of tiny denim shorts.

He felt nervous, hyperaware of you sitting behind them on the couch. So when Makki reached over to bat at his controller, he channeled that anxious energy into shoving back.

In retrospect, it was more than a little childish to think he could impress you by wrestling your brother. Wrestling? Really? What are they, ten years old? He regretted it as soon as Makki left and the adrenaline wore off. He’s a grown man now, with plenty of experience under his belt, so how come you’re still able to make him feel like this?

Mattsun tried to play it off while he figured out another tactic, but then… When you leaned in to take the controller out of his hands, he thought you hesitated, just for a second, like you were caught off guard.

And when he sat back against the couch, he thought you seemed fidgety, like maybe the couch was uncomfortable.

And then when he — let’s be honest — completely fucking panicked and just laid himself across your lap because he couldn’t keep his hands off you, and your voice got all throaty, like…he’s even not sure what.

When you shoved him off and retreated into the couch, when he saw the agitated rise and fall of your chest and the way your nipples poked through the thin fabric of your crop top, when you looked everywhere but at him—

That’s when it clicked. Maybe, just maybe, he finally had a chance.

He barely remembers the race, so dizzying was this revelation.

He ignored Makki’s curious look when he didn’t lie back down on the floor. He hoped you didn’t mind how sweaty his palm was when he pushed himself up next to you instead. You’d stiffened, keeping your gaze resolutely focused on your phone, even though you’d stopped scrolling.

Now that you’re within reach, he doesn’t want to let go of this chance. To ghost his lips on the skin of your neck. To make his desire plain to you. To know if you want him too.

When you look up, a reply on your lips…

Makki yawns. Your face drops.

Of course.

He’s an idiot.

He was so high on the barest glimmer of a chance with you that he forgot all about Makki. Of course you’d be worried about how your brother might feel. You have no idea that Makki is well aware of his crush on you.

So when you run off, leaving him behind yet again, he fights the urge to chase. That little inkling of interest had made him impatient. Can you blame him, though? He’s been chasing after you for as long as he can remember. He’s sure of what he wants. But, he reminds himself, this is all new for you.

So for the first time, he doesn’t pursue you.

Don’t rush.

Slow down.

He plays a few more rounds with Makki and waits.

He goes upstairs and helps with the cooking and waits.

He grabs another beer and talks to your parents and waits.

But his patience has limits. Eventually, he can’t quell the antsiness crawling up his body and sneaks off while Makki is waylaid by one of your uncles.

When he doesn’t see you inside, he slips out to the backyard. It’s cool outside now that the sun is just a sliver on the horizon, and quiet since everyone has retreated indoors. He walks around to the side of the house.

A lighter clicks in his periphery, and for a blink, it illuminates you, hidden in a corner between the plum tree and the stone fence.

Your head snaps up at the crunch of gravel under his shoes.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

He ducks under the branches, stopping a few feet away.

“Yup, just me.”

You bring a skinny joint up to your lips and take a deep drag, turning to blow the smoke away from him.

“Needed some air?” He keeps his tone light.

“Something like that.”

He’s slept around, he’s dated, might have even fallen in love once, but there’s something unshakeable about a first crush. Maybe it’s just you that’s unshakeable. He’d dismissed it as a teenage obsession, but the ember he believed had turned to ash has roared to life.

The uncertainty is clear in your posture, yet your gaze flits over him when you think he’s not looking — eyes, lips, shoulders, chest, eyes again — or maybe you just think the haze of dusk gives you some cover.

You hold the joint out with one hand. “Want some?”

He steps into the narrow gap between you and the fence and, bending down, lifts your (surprisingly pliant) hand to his mouth. He tries not to tower over you, but in this confined space it’s hard not to.

He purses his lips gingerly around the tips of your fingers and inhales.

Breathing out slowly, his eyes stay locked on yours.

Your face remains neutral, but he feels the quickening of your pulse under his fingers when he lets go.

You step back to lean against the trunk. Before you can take another puff, he plucks the joint from you.

“Hey, give it back!”

He holds it up out of your reach. “Didn’t think you of all people would smoke.”

You roll your eyes. “I could say the same for you.”

“I guess some things change. And some things don’t.”

“Suppose so,” you admit.

You stare at the joint slowly burning down in his hand.

“Makki knows, you know,” he assures, gauging your reaction.

You frown in confusion. “That I smoke?”

He laughs. “No. He knows that I’m interested.”

Your frown deepens, and he adds, “I didn’t ask for his blessing or anything, but he’s never had a problem, so I’m pretty sure he’s ok with it.”

At that, you meet his eyes — yeah, he might finally have a chance.

He takes a deep drag, and before you can react, he presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke softly into your mouth. He follows it with his tongue, delicate and testing. You open for him, soft like velvet and just a bit bitter from the beer.

When you don’t reciprocate, he reluctantly pulls away.

You evaluate him thoughtfully before snatching the nub from him. Taking one last puff, you snuff it against the fence, pull him down by the front of his shirt, and smash your lips against his. He eagerly welcomes your tongue, groaning when your sharp incisors pinch his bottom lip.

Your hands run up the back of his neck, roam over his broad shoulders, slide down his toned arms. You lift his hands and settle them on your hips, and before he realizes, he’s picking you up off the ground, wrapping your legs around him, and pinning you against the fence.

You pant as he nestles his face in the curve of your neck, licking and nipping restlessly, careful not to leave any marks for Makki or the rest of your family to find.

His fingers glide up your stomach, sneak under your top, to trace the curve of your breast.

“Do you know how hard you made me earlier when I saw you weren’t wearing a bra?” He growls into your shoulder.

You shiver at his admission, nipples hardening in his palms.

“And then Makki came back and I had to sit there and pretend like I wasn’t just fantasizing about fucking you into the couch?”

He grinds his hips, making you squirm, chuckling when he pulls back and you chase after the friction. “Mmm— yeah? You want me to?”

“Yeah, I want you to,” you gasp, “want you to fuck me, Issei.”

As soon as he sets you down, you start tugging at your shorts and underwear, but before you can even get them to your knees, he’s twisted you around and bent you over against the stone.

He curses as he slips one finger into your soaking cunt, followed quickly by a second. You writhe against his hand, biting back moans as he works them against your slick walls.

“Fuck you’re so wet already. Want this cock that bad, huh?”

“Fuck off Issei,” you whine, “you’re the one who popped a boner w— fuuuck…”

He plunges a third finger inside.

“What was that?”

“Just fucking…shut up and fuck me.”

He tsks, “Was gonna prep you more, but…” But honestly, he’s this close to cumming in his pants. He frees his cock and lines himself up, swooning when it prods against your entrance.

He sinks in. Not in one thrust, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and because he wants to savor this. But not slowly either, because his patience is worn down to nothing.

“Oh sh— Issei…you’re huge,” you grit out, all the while shoving your ass back to take him in faster.

As soon as you’ve sucked all of him in and his hips rest flush against your pussy, the last thread of his self-control snaps and he’s mindlessly rutting into you. He can’t bear to pull out more than a inch or two before slamming back in, hips snapping with loud claps that almost muffle the sloppy squelch of your cunt.

He pulls you up, needing to feel as much of you against him as possible. One arm circles your waist and the other hand wraps around to clutch at your chest.

Your lewd moans and the way your pussy clenches around his cock makes him lightheaded. He’s lost in your slick walls, soft heat, unable to slow down.

It’s too late to wonder if his fingers are digging into you a little too hard because he’s already about to—

He shoves a hand between your legs to fumble at your clit, it’s clumsy, but you’re just so— he’s praying you cum before he loses it.

The last thing he sees is you clapping a hand over your mouth.

He feels you start to spasm right as he pulls out, blindly reaching down to pump himself once, twice before his vision goes dark.

His chest is still heaving when he regains his senses. You’re panting beside him, clinging to the cold stone, gobs of cum splattering your back and the curve of your ass.

He reaches over to brush away the hair stuck to your forehead.

“I’ll go get some tissues,” he murmurs, tucking himself back into his shorts.

He jogs toward the house, straightening his clothes before slipping inside. Luckily, everyone seems to have migrated into the living room because he doesn’t pass a soul as he grabs some toilet paper from the nearest bathroom before returning.

He’s tender when he tidies you up, gently wiping off your back, swallowing your whimpers with a kiss as he cleans up your oversensitive cunt.

Dimly, something primal wells up in him. Is that weird? To feel elated to be wiping his cum off you?

To feel like, after all this time, he’s finally caught up.

[irisintheafterglow]

More Than It Seams (Chapter 4)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 2.8k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader, mentions of food/eating, mention of character death/disappearance, descriptions of wounds and blood, grief with happy ending

note: second to last chapter let's gooooo !!! in theory this could be considered the "last chapter," but don't you wanna know how the ball goes??? and maybe shoto and reader have their first kiss ;). thank you for all the support you've given this series!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated :)

New Voicemail Message [11:32 A.M]

“Hey! Just checking in; I just finished the whole flame side and I’m about to start the shading for the ice side. If you’re able, I’d love for you to come see it and maybe I can buy you lunch this time. No pressure, just let me know. Alright, bye!” 

New Voicemail Message [5:36 P.M] 

“Hi, hi, hi. I picked up Soba takeout for dinner if you’re free. I have both of our usuals, and I can drop them at your agency too if you’re busy. Oh, also, the lady behind the counter was so confused that it was me by myself; you should’ve seen her face. Anyway, just wanna make sure you’re doing okay. Bye!” 

New Voicemail Message [8:24 P.M] 

“Hey Shoto, it’s me, again. I’m sorry for spamming you with voicemails and shit. I just, honestly? I’m kinda worried, haha. I know it’s dumb. Like, I know you can handle yourself and everything, but part of me still wants to make sure you’re good, you know? Just, uh, let me know. If–when you’re home. I miss your stupid voice. Okay, bye.” 

New Voicemail Message [11:56 P.M] 

“Hey. I’m aware that I keep bothering you. If I did something to make you upset, I’m really sorry…I’m about to go to bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow? Obviously, you can’t see it, but uh, I’m sticking my thumb up, haha. Call me when you can, please.”

[2] Missed Calls: Big D(esigner)🧵👑💖 

New Messages: Big D(esigner)🧵👑💖 

12:00 A.M hey  12:00 A.M idk if you’re awake 12:00 A.M but if you are 12:01 A.M please check the news 

The incessant buzzing phone in your hand woke you from your position on the couch. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you assume you passed out after eating a late dinner, waiting for Shoto to call. His food was in the fridge, untouched, while yours was only half-eaten, plastic bowls and utensils messily scattered across your coffee table. The notifications at the top of your phone made your heart drop into your stomach, and you prayed that the thought hiding in the back of your mind wasn’t true. 

You stood as the TV clicked on, only for your legs to give out beneath you as the reporter detailed where he was last seen, what he was wearing, possible suspects, and the statement from his manager. There was no substance in the public statement, only reassurances that efforts are being made to find him. You shut down the TV after they got into the part of the statement that sounded like a fucking eulogy, talking about how he was a loyal friend, devoted hero, and embodiment of a good person. You didn’t need to be told that. You’d seen it firsthand for the past two weeks. Anger, confusion, worry, and grief came in waves, crashing against each other as you curled into yourself. Your eyes welled to alleviate the burn after staring at the screen, your forehead throbbing from the flashing reds and whites of the “BREAKING NEWS” title screen. Your lungs and throat felt empty, consciousness detached from the body. 

No sobs rang out in the darkness of your apartment that night, and it terrified you how silent you were. There was no crying, no convulsing, no thrown objects across the room to create dents in the walls. It was just…silence. You couldn’t tell if you’d slept or not, hours passing as you stared wide-eyed at the ceiling after dragging yourself back onto the couch. It was an effort to breathe, to force yourself to inhale and exhale like it was opening and closing your fists. 

As sunlight permeated through the lightly swinging shades, your phone alarm went off. You stared at it, the musical sound seeming to be coming from underwater. The notifications at the top of your phone once you finally turned it off were like reading in a dream, with letters blurring and rearranging until you didn’t know what the original message was. Hey, thinking about you, they said. We understand if you can’t make it in today, they promised. Hello, you were one of the people last seen with Todoroki Shoto. Our news outlet would like to interview you. Fingers gripping the phone so hard you wanted to snap it, you slammed it onto the coffee table. Flashes of white-hot rage took over your body, directed at no one in particular. You pulled a pillow into your chest, fighting back the impulse to scream, scream, scream until either your voice or your lungs give out. 

“Hey.” It was your roommate, and she held her cat in her arms like a newborn baby. Your empty eyes stared back at them. “I won’t ask if you’re doing okay because that’s a bullshit question. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here for you if you need anything. Just call me, yeah?” You barely nod your assent, and her gentle fingers brush away the tears that had broken through your resolve. “I know it’s hard, and I know you’re grieving,” she said as she rose from the crouch she took to be eye-level with you. She takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “But I also know that you’re one of the strongest people I know. We both know it’s Friday, and we both know those assholes in the commission aren’t going to postpone the one event that brings them money.” She doesn’t say it, but you know what she means. You need to get up and finish your pieces. “Do your best, okay?” 

Just do your best. 

It’s what you repeated to yourself as you struggled from the couch to your bedroom, then to the bathroom, then finally out the door and through the gate in your office. Your other designer, the one who had told you to check the news, runs over from his station. Shaking your head decisively before he could speak, you brush past him with an understanding hand on his shoulder. Your aching throat didn’t have the voice to give one last round of encouragement to your staff, but they looked to you anyway as you took your spot at the front of the room. 

“Just do your best,” you said before turning to the embroidery thread shelves and picking out the most vibrant shades of blue and light purple you could find. The rest of the office worked with a fervor you’d never seen before, and you gave them a sad smile whenever they’d glance up to check on you. All the other heroes’ ball looks were finalized, ready to be handed off to their stylists who would do the final dressing and accessorizing. Seven mannequins lined up in front of a window: Cellophane’s intricately beaded suit, Momo’s sweeping velvet ball gown, Deku’s sleek three-piece, Red Riot’s fiery matching set, Pinky’s princess-like mermaid dress, and Bakugo’s sheer-paneled, explosive applique-covered denim jacket. 

Everyone’s looks were finished, except one. His tailored leather pants were complete as well as the simple white button-up, and the silver pocket chain rested around the headless neck of the mannequin. All that was left to do was finish the design covering the back of the coat, which you worked on tirelessly far past when your staff had left the building. It should have been a day of celebration with champagne, balloons, and cake to commemorate another successful Hero Ball; but, 11:30 and 5:00 passed with no trace of him, and you couldn’t find it in your mind to participate in festivities. Whispered goodbyes and “see you tomorrow” floated around you, and it took more energy than it should have to smile and nod. 

Time ran away from you again, and the coat was finished at midnight on the dot, embellished with small buckles, two rows of buttons, shoulder pads, pockets, and the stunning ice and flame embroidery on the back panel. It truly was the greatest piece you had imagined and created, your quirk allowing the thread to almost act like paint as you added subtle nuance to the two opposing cranes. The fire crane rose from the bottom corner of one of the front panels, forming a circle with the ice crane that descended from the shoulder pad of the opposite front panel. Draping the finished piece on the mannequin and attaching the pocket chain for good measure, you stepped back with your hands on your hips to admire your work. He was gonna love it, when he saw it. If he saw it, the pessimistic demon in your mind whispered. With a deep breath that you didn’t know you needed, you turned to pack your stuff and head home. 

And that’s when something large slammed into M’s office window. 

The thud startled you, the dull noise of something hitting the glass bouncing off the empty cavern of the room. Your fingers wrapped around a pair of scissors as you approached the half-open door, cautiously guiding it open and squinting at the distorted figure behind the dark glass. Your eyes widened when you realized the object was huge, the size of at least two very tall people. One hand tightly gripping the scissors, the other slowly slid into your pocket to call the police when you heard a voice call from the other side. 

“Needle! Needle…wait, what? Needle, uh, sprouting from…Needle sprouting from thumb? Jesus, Todoroki, who would ever say such a thing–” You threw the window open, sending it flying upward as you took in the people set precariously on the ledge. You recognized one as Deku, the number one hero who sometimes visited your office to implement support tech into his costume. His gloved hand grabbed the edge of the window, easing him and the person he was carrying into M’s office and collapsing onto the couch. Deku quickly stood, closing the window and scanning the surroundings for threats. Your hand unconsciously rose to brush the matted red hair from the other person’s face, and the oxygen left your lungs as you zeroed in on the scar barely visible around the blood splattered on the person’s left eye.

Shoto. 

His body was in tatters, with scrapes and cuts and punctures covering his body like some zombie Halloween. The white of his hair was covered in so much blood that his entire head was red. His suit had burnt off on his fire side, and his ice side was nearly blue from discoloration. Your body moved on its own when you took in the most significant wound, a large gash cutting diagonally across his abdomen. Mind empty except for the battered man on M’s couch, you shoved your hands into the fabric scraps box and brought them back to Deku, who pressed them against Shoto’s gash to stop the bleeding. Fingers pressed under his chin, you felt a faint heartbeat and could see his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was dying, and you needed to do something to stop the blood loss. 

“I tried to get him to go to a hospital, but he said it wasn’t safe,” Deku said to you, eyes clouded with concern. “He was barely able to tell me your building’s address before he passed out. I trust his judgment, but I really need you to know that, if Todoroki doesn’t get stitches, he will die. Do you have some way of stitching this up?” The fabric in his hands was soaked a dark red and the realization of what Shoto wanted you to do hit you like a train. 

He wanted you to give him stitches. 

You’d never tried your quirk on any actual humans, only textiles. Your parents had suggested becoming a medic because of your quirk, but the idea of manipulating something to enter a human body was an idea that you couldn’t stomach. There were others with more efficient quirks who could do that, but none of them were with you now. An idea dawned on you, and you reminded yourself to applaud your planning skills later. 

“Deku?”

“Yeah?”

“I need the sutures from your toolbelt.” His eyes widened in understanding, and he frantically pushed aside objects in his belt to find the roll of medical-grade nylon you’d placed there as a part of upgrading his first-aid kit. “Sorry, I added…more items,” he muttered apologetically, finally handing you the unused spool and the box containing the sterilized needle. Like clockwork, you threaded the needle just as you had millions of times before. Averting your gaze as Shoto groaned in pain from Deku cleaning the wound with alcohol pads that you’d also put in his belt, your hand soon hovered over Shoto’s wound in preparation to close it. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the image of the sewing machine and instead opting for a simple knot at select intervals. Fighting down the bile in your throat as the needle pinched Shoto’s skin together, you shakily guided the thread through the skin layers and tied it into a tight knot. You felt Deku’s eyes watch you in amazement as you worked, delicately patching Shoto back together as you had with his suit the first day he’d walked through your elevator doors. Slowly but steadily, you moved your hand and the thread across the wound, sewing it shut like you’d attached his trenchcoat panels. They were, by no means, medical-grade stitches, but you believed they got the job done as the color slowly returned to Shoto’s face. When you finished stitching the large wound, you helped Deku wrap the lower half of his chest and his arms with gauze. With more scraps of fabric, you gently scrubbed off the blood and dirt, combing through his tangled hair with wet fingers. 

“Thank you, Deku,” you said quietly to him as you threw used fabric scraps into a trash bag. “For bringing Shoto to me. I was really worried.” 

“Of course,” he replied, smiling warmly. “I only wish that I’d met Todoroki’s partner under different circumstances.”

“Partner? I mean, yeah, we’re business partners, but–”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, then. I, uh, meant romantically.” Your face began to burn from Deku’s assumption. “He just talked about you a lot, you know. How much he liked being around you, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He told me about all your soba dates and how he didn’t want them to be considered dates since he wants to take you somewhere much nicer when you’re done with all the ball stuff, but I still think they’re dates.” Holy shit, Deku was rambling. “I teased him about it since I don’t think he’s ever been in love before, but–” 

“Midoriya, I implore you to stop talking.” You both gasped, turning to look at a barely-conscious Shoto, who was trying to sit up from the couch. 

“Todoroki, you’re awake! Wait, no, no–you can’t sit up yet,” Deku stutters out as he rushes over to carefully push Shoto’s shoulders back down, moving the hair from his forehead as his head falls back against the armrest. You feel out of your body again as you kneel next to him, fingers brushing his cheek in relief. “I’ll uh, give you two some space,” Deku declares as he scrambles to pick up the trash bags and exit M’s office, leaving you alone with Shoto. 

His gentle eyes find yours. “Hey, pretty.”

“Hi, handsome,” you whisper, reciprocating the weak smile he gives you as he takes in your exhausted face. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here? You needed a hospital. It wasn’t safe risking your life to come here, Sho,” the shortened version of his name slips from your mouth before you could stop it, but the even softer look he gives you sends any regret or embarrassment running. “What would you have done if I wasn’t in the office?”

“I just knew you would be.” 

“That’s a terrible plan.” 

“But it worked out.”

“That it did.” You press your lips to his forehead and relish in the way his eyes shut in contentment. “I finished your coat.”

“You did?” 

“I did, but you can’t see it right now. If you lift a single finger off that couch, I’m going to reopen your stitches.” He lets out a pained laugh, wincing at the pain shooting across his chest. A thoughtful look crosses his face again, and you adore the way you could see him working things out in his mind. What those things are, you’d never know, but his pure intellect was enough to admire. 

“Do you still plan on attending the ball tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re still hurt.”

“In that case, I am no longer hurt.” He smirks at you, with an immature, boyish, attractive smile. “And I still haven’t…chosen a plus one.” 

You feel your heart cease racing in your chest. “Yeah? And who’s the lucky winner?” Your voice shakes slightly as you attempt to relieve the tension with a joke. 

He looks at you again with that expression that makes you want to kiss him. 

“It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

As you finally drift off to sleep slumped against the couch, your face close enough to his to feel him breathe, you know in your mind that it’d always been him, too.

[1] Missed Call - Midoriya Izuku

New Voicemail Message [2:04 A.M]

"Hi Yaomomo! Hope you're doing well. I need a favor..."

[doakarma]

(Idk how to write this in a good way so best attempt. Writing in first person is difficult for me , so it's in third. It ended up a lot shorter than I meant.

Anyway this is the promised long angst post and is about one of karmas old owners/bosses. Because I didn’t want to make a blog to interact with myself and I didn’t want to just ask people so this is the next best thing)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been about two hours since it happened, he didn’t even know how he’d gotten here. What had started as a short walk to pick up some extra cat treats from pebble had led him to wander a little further than usual, he couldn’t recognise this part of the city for quite some time. Eventually a few things looked familiar, things he’d only seen in his nightmares as of late, nothing he’d passed frequently but he’d seen that place before. That should have been the first sign to turn back, that he’d taken a wrong turn, but he had a hungry kitten and he was stubborn.

Most of what happened after that had ended up a blur in his mind. From the moment he’d spotted someone he thought he’d recognised he should have ran but by the time he knew who it was it was far too late. He knew he didn’t say anything because why would he, it was like being around him now was no different than before. He remembered being told so many things. The man had seemed disgusted at Karma’s new freedom and tried to ruin it.

He had absolutely no clue how he’d done it, how he’d disobeyed something said by the man he’d still call boss when discussed but he had managed to make himself run for however long he could. Finding himself a hiding spot. Curled up behind some random object he hadn’t bothered to look at but had been thankful for nonetheless.

So here he was, somewhere he didn’t know but with the knowledge that man knew he was somewhere and he refused to let him get close. His gun was in one of his hands, the other hand never leaving his neck, he considered calling someone but didn’t know who. Eventually moving his hand from his neck to scroll through his contacts because there was no way he was possibly moving on his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Anyway I don’t remember who asked to be tagged when I first talked about this so I’ll tag everyone who might be interested: @oscarsgallery @the-caged-jester @shopping-for-a-russian-rat @fedya-the-rat-god @snakesinthesnow )

[quinloki]

Ok so, I shit u not, since u said I could pick who to talk about, I decided to use a number generator to pick for me and it picked my Kid Pirates OC LMAOOOO who was inspired by this, really fantastic fic by @standfucker (if I remember right the title is “Rotations” but don’t quote me on that)(also note that this is the crew I am the LEAST familiar with but the most FASCINATED by atm)

So, let’s get into Zella(he/she), my newest OC (like, literally came up with her in the last couple of weeks)! She is a 5’5”, 22-24 spunky lil shit from the West Blue, who loves her crew and ONLY them, fuck the rest of the world. He’s punk (ofc), usually sporting a cropped deep red and green leather jacket, long fingerless gloves, and black tank top and high waisted pants, with boots (a pair she’s had since before the Kid Pirates and would stab a bitch for as they were a gift). Short dark green hair, with two little white tufts that poke out in front of her ears and frame her face. (Im kinda shooting for like, a hummingbird kinda vibe for her, but not like “cute smol, wants some flowers” and more “I will stab u with my beak if u get near my flower” deal. A colorful chihuahua if u will)

Since Zella is so new I don’t have a lot aside from design vibes, but I have some key things

• as One Piece characters tend to have, his childhood? Fucked up. Got dragged around hopping island to island with their shitty parents until they finally abandoned him. He tried to find comfort and friendship with the local kids and it, didn’t go well. Let’s just say the fingerless gloves r there for more than fashion. Once she managed to leave THAT shitty place, Zella found an island home that, while on paper it’s not a good place, there were few people who actually took her in. Until that too was taken, resulting in Kid Pirate Zella.

• can and has climbed her crewmates like trees to get a better vantage point. It’s usually Wire or Killed, Kid in a knee-jerk reaction threw him overboard. Zella has not let him forget about it since.

• Has the filthiest mouth of my OCs, but is not immune to being flustered into place (which happens more often than she’d like)

• will pick the spiciest food and eat it with no reaction (Dive took a bite thinking she could handle it. She could not)

• very skilled at sewing and has helped her crew with fixing and customizing their clothes on many occasions. Do NOT touch her chaotic corner of supplies, she knows where everything is and somehow always knows if it’s been messed with. A l w a y s.

• has two tattoos (atm, may add more later), one in particular being an under chin tattoo of a red star/flower shaped pattern. Does not remember the night it happened, at all.

• always has a knife hidden somewhere on her person. Full body searched? HA u missed the one between her ass cheeks bitch

And that’s it for rn!!!! I have a lot more I want to develop and figure out for Zella, but I also have to get to know her crew first lmao thanks for letting me ramble!

Sincerely,

The 🌷

Holy shit - hey Zen - idk if the tag in an ask will ping you, but I'mma assume yes - Your one-shot birthed an OC for someone!!

And yeah, it's called Rotation - that one and Whiteout whew.

Anyway, we're talking about your Zella and I love him \o/ What you have so far is fantastic, and it's certainly enough for a full fledged OC, so I don't think you have to worry about that.

And it doesn't take much honestly, sometimes character creation is a long long process, and sometimes they come to us all at once. And sometimes real development happens in the parameters of a story, but you've got her down solid already. I love the bullets and the little personal bits here and there with the crew.

If you're fascinated with the Kid Pirate crew, I gotta make sure you're aware of @swampstew - she's got a Meet the Crew series, and yeah it's based on her head canon of them, but it's a great place to start in my opinion. (I imagine you are if you follow me, I love her Kid Pirate passion, and I bet if you're nice and ask for some head canons she'd share as much as me xD ❤️🥰)

[stormyoceans]

hey girl write down your top 7 (this is nice number😋) of js's fav photo shoots, images

THIS IS SUCH A GREAT QUESTION AND 7 IS INDEED A VERY NICE NUMBER BUT IN THIS PARTICULAR CASE IT MIGHT BE A WAY TOO SMALL ONE LIKE HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PICK ONLY 7 PICTURES FROM JIMMYSEA PHOTOSHOOTS WHEN WE GOT SO MANY JUST THESE PAST COUPLE OF MONTHS ✋😭

i mean of course im still gonna try to do it, but know im throwing up all the blood in my body every step of the way and that if you ask me this question again in a couple of weeks the answer might be different ;;;;;;;

ANYWAY HERE GOES NOTHING!!!!!!!!

1. the chemistry in front of this fish tank is astronomical from LEMON Magazine. sorry idk what else to say except that they're literally just looking at each other and yet every time i so much as barely glance at it i still find myself in a dead faint in front of my screen drowning in the sheer incomprehensible levels of magnetism electricity tension vibes oozing from this one (1) single still image. like i know maybe it's weird to put it in first place since it only has their faces and nothing else but it really makes feel in dire need of a mental health crisis intervention team THIS IS WHAT THE WALLS OF MY PADDED ROOM LOOK LIKE

2. forehead touch from Starry Magazine. WHAT CAN I SAY IM NOT IMMUNE TO FOREHEAD TOUCHES. they're giving such effervescent 'we are so deeply intertwined and enthralled by each other that everything else just falls away' vibes that i can even look past the school boys attire this picture is just THAT beautiful. also the tenderness!!!!!!!! the sunflower!!!!!!!! I AM BUT A WEAK WOMAN

3. cuntitude Xtreme100 from ViVi men. invented maximizing their joint slay and serving so much coquettecore cuntism it makes me act deeply unwise. idek what's the worst (read: best) part of it all if jimmy's bold jewelries or sea's outfit that exposes the mole on his chest for the world to see or how fluffy their hair look or the way jimmy is resting his arms on sea's shoulder while sea's head is turned just enough to brush against jimmy's all i know is that whoever styled them for this shoot deserves a raise and a kiss on the mouth.

4. interconnectedness from PRAEW Magazine. look me in the eyes and tell me this doesn't belong in the louvre with a little tag on display under it that shows this exact title like with all due respect to my man leonardo but the mona lisa ain't shit compared to this picture. it should be studied in art classes all around the world for its lines and composition and contemporary figuration and how the intertwinement of the bodies is a metaphor for the mingling of souls throughout lifetimes. OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

5. whole face economy in one image from Mint Magazine. never in the history of the whole entire world have two people looked more stunning like the visual excellence displayed here never fails to propel me into an entire different reality. the other reason i love this one so much is that this is their usual pose but for once sea is the one holding jimmy and that truly makes me feel some type of way, the photographer really was on some galaxy brain shit for this one.

6. sea's oral fixation from ViVi men. at first i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot on the list just to give more variety but im currently too rabid about this one to leave it out. im not sure what compelled sea to put one of the strings from jimmy's hoodie in his mouth but that sure was. A CHOICE. i also love jimmy's smile and the more casual clothes and sea's silly goose vibes and how warm and huggable and comfort shaped they look.

7. high fantasy concept from LEMON Magazine. once again i didn't want to put two pictures from the same shoot but i think this ones deserves a place on here even just for how original it is like THE VISION THE TASTE THE FLAVOUR THE STYLE THE INSPIRATION THE QUALITY THE VIBES CHINESE MAGAZINES TRULY ARE ON SUCH A COMPLETE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF CREATIVITY GMMTV WISHES IT COULD COME UP WITH SUCH INCREDIBLE OUT OF THIS WORLD IDEAS.

[lilioopdf]

mini F2 race predictions

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

this is personal bc ive been staying away from tarot and fortune telling for really really long because it just doesn’t align with who i am anymore but i am also a really curious person and this week has been emotionally taxing so im doing this for FUN and for myself

but anyway these are my mini predictions for the sprint and feature race (F2) except im only looking at one driver (and i won’t tag this post because i really don’t want this to show up anywhere)

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

sprint race: king of wands, 7 of pentacles, the star

not too bad?? its not amazing but it’s not horrible, just average. and i think that with the seven of pentacles there will be lots of information picked up on or gained from this race, which could really help in the feature race the day after. and with the king of wands it makes me wonder if there’s a possibility of him dominating the race, for at least some period of time? or maybe setting the fastest timing for a lap/sector at least once. with the star, i think a lot of useful data could be collected behind the scenes, like really really useful info that wasn’t found previously. the star kinda feels like there will be certain blessings present, and a wish may be made and granted. the seven of pentacles is usually the final step before the hard work pays off.

significant numbers (in this context): 7, 17, 3, 4

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

feature race: 3 of cups, 10 of cups, 6 of pentacles

so so positive i cannot stress this enough— so much celebration, so much fulfilment marking the end of a cycle. maybe some help involved, either given or received. positive, in the way only cool and calm mornings can feel, specifically at 8am, as it slowly gets closer to 10am. idk not much to say but the effort behind this race feels more centred, like there is a smaller group of people being actively involved in this race, and the celebrations may also be mainly for a smaller group of people than usual, but lots of happiness of course. this feels like watching the sunset at a beach, unplanned.

extra: i noticed the devil card pop up but it came with too many cards so i put it back in but it feels like a small warning to not get too egotistical or rude and lose focus on what’s actually important, like safety and relationships, and to not be overly consumed or obsessed by something— like results or incidents on track or the past

significant numbers: 3, 6, 10, 5, 7, 4

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

bottom of deck: wheel of fortune

the wheel of fortune usually symbolises luck, or karma. it usually signifies a change in luck, and i always tell people that this change in luck could be from bad to good luck, or vice versa. it’s not a one directional thing— whatever you’ve been experiencing recently, changes. although in this context it definitely feels more positive given the recent dnfs. card number 10. with 11 under it— whatever is received this weekend is well deserved and long time coming

also wait im adding on to this but maybe tyre management might be significant in these two races, in this specific drivers case

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

anyway i still don’t know if ill watch the races because both F3 and F2 races have been heartbreaking recently but i might, after this reading— i just pray that pepe does really really well and that there are no crashes and that everyone is safe and happy despite their end positions and that it’s a good weekend for all drivers and mechanics and fans and team principals and any and everyone on earth except mean people

okay byebye ill come back to this after both races are complete and update this

- 🪷

[tommyssupercoolblog]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

@bootlegfrank tagged me and @septiccoffeefreak - who shares this post w me because we're writing partners >:3 (frank tagged us indirectly. and then directly because i responded saying i was gonna do it. so in-indirect-diretly(??))

Rules: list the first lines(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern. I also said where each one is from in case u don't wanna scroll through our ao3 and do the math urself!!!

all these fics except one r RPF, sooo BE WARNED. i'm putting everything under da cut, and i'm also putting my reblog banner since fanfiction!!! is!!! art!!!

Seán’s about ready to burn his entire calendar.

from "Scheduling Conflicts and How To Cope - A Guide For The Busy Homosexual"

Tommy hates LA with every fiber of his being.

from "City Of Angels"

it's cold, and it hurts.

from "The Part Where it Gets Better (Lads rescue AU)", and also THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD OUT OF CONTEXT LIKE WHAT'S COLD??? it's water. the water is cold. this is the character based one btw. WE FOUND IT, THE NON-RPF!!!

Tommy inspects Seán’s behelit tattoo carefully, running his thumb over it a little, then kisses it.

I fucking would. kissing all his tattoos right now. mwah. this goddamn MOOD is from "There's No Place Like Home"

Ethan N3st0r was not expecting Seán to still be awake at three AM, even though with jet lag considered, he really fuckin should have.

I censored the name for search but it's not like that in the fic, that's just for tumblr. anyway, from "Three Drabbles In Which Tommy and Seán are bad at Keeping Secrets"

Ethan's the one to bring it up first, on Brain Leak, of all things.

OPENING WITH ETHAN AGAIN LMAOO. this is from "And Suddenly, It Makes Sense."

"So, who would have thought, huh? T0mmy1nn1t and Jacks3pt1c3y3, famous YouTubers, passed away in their sleep on the same night."

censored for tumblr again. from "Count your Soulmates- There's only one."

Seán and Tommy have sleepovers sometimes.

from "kissing practice". very original opening line /sar /lh (also tbh i feel awful about em being evil in this one :( I know its fanfic and i can do whatever I want but like. idk. i'm not accusing em of being mean IRL okay??? OKAY))

Seán spends about fifteen minutes pacing and staring at himself in the mirror, doing breathing exercises his therapist taught him and trying not to rub or scratch his wrists too much.

from "Puppy Love", the closest we've ever gotten to full misce posting on main

They were gluing ducks to a jeep the first time it happened.

FROM "PETNAMES" AND ALSO THE BEST OPENING LINE EVER

INTERPRETATION TIME!!!!

soooo yeah!!! we like to jump right into action as well but I think it's safe to say our autistic ass habits of giving exposition for everything lead to the specific outcome of starting in the middle of a scene, WITH an explanation of the scene. like we're already in the middle of something going on but also sometimes it's exposition at the same time somehow?? or like right after these first lines. idk maybe that's just me????

the way it's usually less (character does this) and more (character does this BECAUSE ____ // character is doing this and FEELING ____) feels like it's trying to give context, to me. but again idk maybe just me

TIME FOR SEÁN'S READING:

@septiccoffeefreak - "What I'm noticing here is more along the lines of just, how we almost always seem to open with a person. Usually by their actual name(s) too and not just a pronoun. I understand what you mean, Tommy, but I don't personally get that vibe? You could totally be right, of course, I just don't pick up on that. I defenitely notice, though, just how many of these are sentences where the literal first word is a name. the two exceptions to that are the pronoun "they" (which is still a person- or two people actually), and then water.

I guess the dialogue could also be considered an exception, but I don't think it counts since it also directly references us as characters.

and that's not something you necessarily have to do. You could open describing scenery or objects, or with dialogue that DOESN'T have the names of the characters in it- you could open with wind through a blade of grass or a character cursing under their breath or someone's cellphone crashing to the pavement or something. So it's definitely an "us" thing, it's a quirk of our writing style and not just normal writing. I don't know if like, we ALWAYS do this, but I do know that in these ten fics you pulled we do. I wouldn't be surprised if we did it like literally all the time as well, but I'm not going to pretend to know every first line we've ever penned to paper. or...print?? I don't fucking know, here, I'm just analyzing sentences on the internet for a tagging project.

Sorry if this ramble is kind of long, I hope it's at least interesting though??? sort of interesting? kind of interesting, in it's own way, hopefully. at least mildly, like a video you didn't turn on but aren't really reaching for the mouse/remote on to change it. You know?? Yeah. Like that. Or more interesting then that, hopefully. Thanks for uh, reading or, whatever, listening if you have a screen reader i guess, I'm getting nervous and it's very obvious because i'm rambling so I'm gonna hand things back off to the birthday boy, Toms. wish Tommo a happy birthday or I swear to fucking god your liver will be missing in the morning and you'll find it at the bottom of your morning cup of coffee."

back to me:

LMAO

wow omg i love my babygirl,,,, that made me laugh >:p

ANYWAYS. i didn't notice that!! oh em gee,,,,, name moment.

YOU SHOULD DO THIS TOO AND SEE IF YOUUUU SEE ANYTHING!!!!!

I'M TAGGING @kalcifers-blog AND.... no one else because all my other mutuals who i know for a fact write have paused as far as i'm aware, bc they're into mcyt RPF like I am and the w1lbvr situation put them on hiatus. and i don't know if any of them are back to feeling up to writing stuff.

I don't write about w1bvr ever and didn't watch him so I wasn't that affected but a lot of people were even if they just watched so like... Kalcie ur alone on here i'm SO SORRIE. ALSO this is /nf so u don't have to if u dont want to :p :3 >:D :000 >:PPPP :000 >:00

[mostly-megan]

Spring Fever

Werewolf Frankie x F!Reader

Rating: PG Fluff

Description: Frankie believes that it’s time for him to start giving your little partially werewolf son his first hunting lessons

Word Count: 3,450 (no beta; we live and die by the sword)

Warnings: Mentions of “hunting” with no explicit descriptions, mild mentions of werewolf transforming, wolves (idk you guys, this one is pretty mild all over)

(A/N): So I mentioned to @pettyprocrastination in a dm once the idea of werewolf Frankie being a dad with the sweetest little boy and I promised to make a fic with it. THAT WAS 2 YEARS AGO!!! But anyway, this fic is dedicated to Tj’s lovely friendship and extreme patience, I hope you like it💚

Tagging some others who maybe interested: @princessbatears @maybege @frannyzooey @themarcusmoreno @absurdthirst

Even from the car port outside, you can hear giggles and loud little footsteps in the cabin. You and Frankie share exasperated eye rolls and sighs hidden behind soft smiles as you pass each other. You had just opened up the doors and windows to air out your monthly retreat and Lucas was running wild with excitement.

You walk up the deck steps, carrying one of the coolers of food you had bought on the way up, and see a small, fuzzy blur circling the living room. On the way to the kitchen, you can see your son chasing his tail so fast it was even making you dizzy. Eventually you hear a soft “oof” and look back to see him back in human form bonking against the couch cushion and landing on the floor with dizzy giggles. “Lucas, you’d better be wearing pants when I look back up. We’ve talked about keeping our clothes on.”

You softly chuckle at the small gasp and frantic shifting of fabric. He stumbles into his shorts and t-shirt and toddles over to tug lightly on your pant leg, “Mama, mama, I almost got it that time! Didja see Mama?!” He giggles again as he wraps his little arms around your legs to steady himself. Pulling more cold food out of the ice chest, you play with his soft curls with your other hand, “I did, sweetheart. You’re such a silly pup today, that looked like so much fun!”

Frankie groans as he places another box of food on the table, “Alright, mijo, you got your sillies out, but now we need to get some work done. Okay?” His little face mimics his father’s seriousness as he sits for his shoes to be tied. Once your husband stands, Lucas dutifully marches passed him to the yard. Frankie’s now slightly amber eyes flash up to you with a playful smirk just as he turns through the back door.

When you all get to the cabin, you all assume your usual jobs once the bags are brought in: you get the food put away, Frankie splits the firewood, and Lucas skips all around the yard picking up every piece of kindling. It started because it keeps him busy and tires him out, but honestly, he does a wonderful job. Frankie always says his ass was saved a few times thanks to the hoard of dry twigs you now had on hand.

As you finish stocking the fridge, you can hear your 5 year-old’s happy chatter to his father, who could only really respond in affirmative grunts as he lets the hatchet fall to split the wood. You smile as you start preparing dinner. As excited as they all were, there certainly was a nervous sort of anticipation.

As long as you’ve known your Frankie, he’s always taken 3 days off a month for an extra long weekend. A medical exemption was the official reasoning. Very few really knew that he retreated up to the woods so he could run and hunt as an apex predator during full moons, Santi being one of them. He, in fact, had come with you two the first weekend Frankie decided to tell you about his monthly curse.

Apparently they had planned for a good case/bad case scenario. Good case, Santi would be a helpful resource for most of your questions and help you acclimate to what Frankie deals with in secret. Bad case, you start panicking and Santi could carefully knock you out and they lay you down, setting up that you had slipped on the loose stair and gotten a good bonk on the head. Luckily for everyone, you were more amazed and curious than terrified.

Slowly, the newness and strangeness bleed away until it became nothing more than another occurrence in life. You pay the bills, you do the laundry, and you go up to the cabin to let him get his urges cleared.

You’re pulled from your thoughts back to heating up the stew with an unceremonious cry of “MAMA!” You turn to the little voice and can’t help mirroring the huge grin spread out across his face, “Is it time yet, Mama?!” Your eyes shift to the clock over the stove, “Not yet, sweetheart. Papa said he’ll take you out around 6 so there’s still light. See, the clock has a 4 right now.” He huffed and climbed into one of the kitchen chairs.

You’d think his pouty face would be over being told not to go Trick’r’Treating yet. “I know you’re excited, we just need to eat dinner. Why don’t you help me get it ready so we can eat sooner?”

This seems to appease his impatience for now, slipping out of the chair and coming to his step stool in the kitchen to help you get dinner ready. You hand him a spoon and show him how to butter the bread while chattering about how much he helped his father with the firewood. You tell him how proud you are of how helpful he’s been this trip, but your focus is starting to slip again.

You knew who Frankie was when you were committing to this relationship. You knew that when you talked about having kids and again when you discovered you were pregnant with Lucas (well, technically Frankie accidentally told you, but you were still the one to confirm it). Now though, you couldn’t help but worry about your sweet little boy going hunting at night.

Ever since he could have solid foods, Frankie would go out to hunt while you stayed with Lucas. His grandfather’s old property was safe and large enough that human hunters wouldn’t be anywhere near him. He’d go into the bathroom and slowly change into his other form, groaning and grunting at the uncomfortable tug he described in his muscles. Coming out, he’d almost look like an incredibly huge dog, soft brown fur curling like he needed a good trim at the groomers. But his eyes had the same lovely depth and warmth, even if now more amber than dark brown.

After checking one last time on you and the baby, he’d go out for hours and bring back elk or deer. You would wait in the living room, where you could see the pouch from the window until your husband, the man, once again stood there, soft tummy wrapped with a towel from the bin out front around his waist. Quickly cleaning the meat, he’d bring it inside and throw it to cook in the kitchen while he showered.

He’d come out warm and all smiles and kisses as he made himself a plate full of meat and some potatoes or rice and sat with you at the table, helping to cut Lucas’ portion of meat into small enough pieces. But now, you wouldn’t have baby Lucas to cuddle and kiss while Frankie happily brought back the meat they’d need to feed themselves and their wolves.

Frankie had gently brought it up to you that maybe Lucas would benefit from coming on a hunt once in a while. Only for small game, of course, but it would still teach him valuable skills he would need to care for himself when he was older. You were originally horrified at the thought that Frankie wanted to bring your son who couldn’t even tie his shoes to hunt wild animals. But Frankie had given you time and talked it over with you for long enough until you realized that it would be what he needed.

As you ladle the stew into bowls for the three of you, Lucas cheers at his father coming inside and clammers down the step stool to run up to him. Frankie groans and lifts him high up before blowing on his tummy and dropping him onto the couch, squealing with laughter. You feel his warm palms slide around your stomach to pull you back to him as you sit the warm bowls on the table.

“Mmm, I’m not sure if you or dinner smells better,” his whiskers tickle along your neck as he leaves a series of small pecks up to your ear. “Well, you just said that it was a toss up between me or beef smelling better, so you should go with dinner right now and blame it on your stomach, hot shot,” you giggle as Frankie lowly growls in your ear and swats your bottom before moving to fill the glasses with water and a little cup of milk.

Eating during a full moon with a wolf man and a wolf toddler was a practice in spinning plates. As soon as you chastise Lucas for shoveling beef stew into his mouth, you turn to see Frankie’s cheeks puffed out with food. You give him a glare as he slowly swallows, straightening himself a bit and murmuring a reminder to his son to eat patiently. Frankly, at this point, you don’t know why you even bother to try.

“I’m finished, Papa!” Lucas is off like a shot as soon as his bowl was clean, but Frankie is off right after him, scooping him up, and plopping him on the couch. “Not so fast, mister, we need to talk first.” The little boy let out a long “Aaawww…” as his father drops him on the cushion in front of the coffee table. He groans as he sits and pulls out a map from his back pocket.

You join them after loading the dishwasher and look over the crinkled paper landscape. Frankie had been painstakingly planning out the trail he would take Lucas on as the hunted, coming up on weekends to make the entire path.

“Okay, buddy, what path are we going to take?” Frankie looks at your son with pride, certain he knows the answer. “Purple! ‘Cuz it’s my favorite color,” Lucas bounces on the couch with excitement, “Papa made it all purple just for me!”

Your husband has never looked so proud. “Exactly! And where are you going to stay while we’re out?” Lucas’ face goes stone serious, “Right next to Papa because the woods is dangerous! And, if I gets lost, I stand still and blow my new whistle!”

Frankie cut a paracord to hang an emergency whistle around Lucas’ neck, loud enough to be heard in a half-mile radius. With his heightened hearing, Frankie would be able to hear it and find him before any hunter would register it. Your son’s answer at least calms you knowing he’s prepared in case anything happens. You squeeze Frankie’s shoulder before walking back to the master bedroom, changing into comfy clothes before washing your face.

A knock at the door just as you finish draws your attention back, the space now filled with Frankie’s broad frame. “How are you doing?” his voice betrays his apprehension, he’s told you from the moment he brought this idea up that you have final say. You fold the towel you were using and sigh, “Fine, I guess. Sort of like when he started preschool, I’m so excited for him, but I’m terrified.” Your husband rubs the back of his neck, giving away just how nervous he is too. “But I know you’ll never let anything happen to him, even when changed.”

He looks back at you with a soft half-chuckle, pushing away from the wall he leaned on to pull you into a hug, warm and reassuring. You nuzzle against his neck, inhaling his woodsy scent. When you leave the embrace, he cups your cheek to bring you close for a slow, deep kiss before the inevitable strikes.

“Papa, PAPA LOOK IT SAYS 6!!!!” You both chuckle before your little boy bolts into the room, pointing at the bedside clock. Frankie scoops him up with a playful growl, making the boy giggle. “Ah, it my pup ready for his first hunt?” Lucas’ head nods so fast you watch him almost tip out of his father’s arms.

You laugh at his enthusiasm before leaning in to kiss his little cheek, “My sweet baby, are you sure you wanna go out? You could stay here with me and have cocoa!” He looks at you like you asked him to never watch TV again, “Mama, I gonna be scary wolf like papa!” Frankie chuckles, kissing his cheek and setting him down, “Okay, then let’s fold our clothes and get changed.”

With that, you slip out of the bathroom to lay on the bed. As you had been trying to teach your toddler privacy, you’d included any time he was a wolf. Frankie taught him to neatly fold his clothes and change in the bathroom to minimize any notice. As you try to distract yourself with a magazine you brought, you hear Frankie’s strangled grunts as he transforms and a little “hmph” from Lucas. Your husband teases that his old bones make changing unpleasant, but not gut-wrenching like movies always showed.

Upon hearing the door open, you look up to watch your hulking wolf husband emerge with a small pup zipping in front of him and up onto the bed. “Oh, look at this! Too bad Lucas isn’t here, he always wants a puppy!” You scritch under the soft, rounded snout as he giggles at your feigned forgetfulness, “Mama, it's me!” You smile at him and stand as Frank joins you, scooping up the boy.

You all walk to the front door, Luke nearly vibrating with excited energy as Frankie slips on a bright orange safety vest. You both hope that maybe it would keep any hunters from shooting on site, mistaking him as someone’s hunting dog. His whistle is placed around his neck and he’s off pawing at the door like an over-eager puppy. “Luke, come say good-bye to your mother before we leave!” Frankie puts on his own vest, carefully tucking the map in the pocket.

Lucas whips around to sit at your feet with uppy hands. You whirl him up and blanket his cheeks with kisses, “You be a very, very good boy for daddy, okay? Have a wonderful time and learn so, so much for your big boy brain!” Lucas looks upset suddenly and wiping at the tear slipping down your cheek, “Mama, you crying!!!” You chuckle wetly and take his fuzzy hand to give a kiss, “I’m just so excited for you, honey! Now, you go be the very best hunter and bring me back all your stories!” And he’s off to the door again.

Frankie steps up, wrapping an arm around your waist as he wipes away yet another tear. “You had better take good care of my baby, Francisco Morales, or else hunters won’t be the only thing you’d have to worry about,” he rubs a thumb over your cheek before pressing a scratchy kiss there. “I’d never let anyone touch a single hair of fuzz on his body.”

With that, they’re out the door hand in hand, Lucas chattering his father’s ear off as they start along the path marked with purple spots every few feet. You stood on the deck to watch as they leave, trying desperately to keep your tears away as you lay out two towels on the deck for them. “One hour,” you say to yourself, “you only need to distract yourself for one hour.” Now faced with an empty cabin, you halfheartedly turn on some movie.

It’s campy and a little low-budget, but the main bad guy makes you think of your husband somehow. Only if he was more vampire bat than wolf. But your distraction doesn’t last more than 20 minutes before you hear loud footsteps and Frankie half-soothingly, half-panicked murmurs of “it’s okay, honey, we’re back, you’ll be okay”. You bolt over to the door to see Frankie still in wolf form carrying your little boy wrapped in one of the towels, eyes all red and tired with mucus dripping from his tiny nose.

“Mama, I don’t feel good,” he whines tiredly, reaching for you with gooey hands you ignore to scoop him up as he starts furiously sneezing. “Sweetheart, what happened?” you examine him against your chest for any wounds or marks. “H-he won’t stop sneezing, he was right next to me in the brush and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe without sniffles.” Feeling his forehead and side of his neck, you don’t feel any possible fever or infection.

“I-I think he has allergies, he’s not sick, just sniffly. C’mon, baby, let’s get you all steamed up in the bath,” you quickly walk to the bathroom down the hall and set our poor little guy in the bath. Taking the showerhead, you gently rinse any pollen off before plugging the tub and filling it with warm water. You hear the master bathroom’s shower turning on as soon as you turn off the water. Now that the steam curls around the room, Lucas takes more filling breaths. But after a few moments, the sniffles start again and tears fall down his nose instead.

“I-I s-so sorry, mama! I-I wanna be a good wolf like daddy!” He’s almost wailing now as he rubs his eyes. “Honey, it’s okay! You just had a yucky day! Next time, we’ll take your allergy pill before going out so you aren’t getting all stuffy from that junk.” He looks up with wide eyes, “B-but isn’t papa mad at me?” Your heart breaks a little as you wipe his eyes, “No, Luke, nothing would ever make him mad at you. Did you know daddy has allergies, too?”

He wipes his face with his whole arm, gasping a big relieved breath, “Really?” You take a clean washcloth to wipe off his face, swiping away any lingering junk, “Oh yeah, he got real sick when he first left for the army and they had to give special pills every day to keep him moving.”

Lucas looks over your shoulder and his eyes grow wider, prompting you to turn and see Frankie slowly walking in now in his loose sleep shirt and sweats. “How you feeling, bud? Is your nose still stuffy?” Lucas nods silently as his father sits with a groan on the ground with you. You pull the drain and wrap your son up in his fuzzy hooded towel. “We were talking about your stuffy nose from boot camp,” you catch Frankie’s eye to silently communicate the need for a story. And your amazing husband catches on.

He ruffles his son’s hair with the towel and groans, “Oh my goodness, it was awful. It’s 98 degrees, burning hot, and I’m standing their with the worst stuffy nose as we tried to run drills,” Frankie loosely pinches your son’s nose and makes a little honk sound. “Why do you think tío Santi calls me Catfish? I was always gulping down air in my mouth because my nose was too stuffed.” Frankie mimes opening his mouth and closing it like a fish, making Luke quietly giggle.

He throws his little arms around his father’s neck, “I sorry I not a good hunter, papa.” Frankie hums sadly, kissing the chubby cheek and holding the back on his head in his large hand, “It’s okay, mijo, you weren’t feeling well. I wanted to get you better! We can just try again next month, okay?” Luke sniffs and nods, all excited again.

You stand up with a soft groan, putting your hands on your hips, “Well, since papa didn’t get any snacks for you two, how about I warm up the leftover stew while daddy gets you into some comfy pjs?” Lucas’ excited gasp has you smiling again, “Yay, my tummy needs food, mama!” Frankie scoops him up, tickling his sides to make him giggle, “If you get some food ready, babe, I’ll get this spring fever monster all cozy.”

You walk into the kitchen and take the food out of the fridge, laughing as you hear more toddler squeals as your boys play. He might be part wolf from his father, but at least for a little bit longer, he could just be your baby boy still.