#ok yeah sure make it soup

[inthefadingtwilightt]

Nothing shows how disordered I am quite like me trying to make a snack 😭

[astrxealis]

i am so used to my pinned post i kinda don't want to change the format but i want to

[insertdisc5]

🎮 HEY I WANNA MAKE A GAME! 🎮

Yeah I getcha. I was once like you. Pure and naive. Great news. I AM STILL PURE AND NAIVE, GAME DEV IS FUN! But where to start?

To start, here are a couple of entry level softwares you can use! source: I just made a game called In Stars and Time and people are asking me how to start making vidy gaems. Now, without further ado:

SOFTWARES AND ENGINES FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW HOW TO CODE!!!

Ren'py (and also a link to it if you click here do it): THE visual novel software. Comic artists, look no further ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It has great documentation! It has a bunch of plugins and UI stuff and assets for you to buy! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) You can also port your game to a BUNCH of consoles! ✨Cons: None really <3 Some games to look at: Doki Doki Literature Club, Bad End Theater, Butterfly Soup

Twine: Great for text-based games! GREAT FOR WRITERS WHO DONT WANNA DRAW!!!!!!!!! (but you can draw if you want) ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's versatile! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! (You'll just need to read the doc a bunch) ✨Cons: You can add pictures, but it's a pain. Some games to look at: The Uncle Who Works For Nintendo, Queers In love At The End of The World, Escape Velocity

Bitsy: Little topdown games! ✨Pros: It's free! It's simple! It's (somewhat) intuitive! It has great documentation! It can be used even if you have LITERALLY no programming experience! You can make everything in it, from text to sprites to code! Those games sure are small! ✨Cons: Those games sure are small. This is to make THE simplest game. Barely any animation for your sprites, can barely fit a line of text in there. But honestly, the restrictions are refreshing! Some games to look at: honestly I haven't played that many bitsy games because i am a fake gamer. The picture above is from Under A Star Called Sun though and that looks so pretty

RPGMaker: To make RPGs! LIKE ME!!!!! NOTE: I recommend getting the latest version if you can, but all have their pros and cons. You can get a better idea by looking at this post. ✨Pros: Literally everything you need to make an RPG. Has a tutorial inside the software itself that will teach you the basics. Pretty simple to understand, even if you have no coding experience! Also I made a post helping you out with RPGMaker right here! ✨Cons: Some stuff can be hard to figure out. Also, the latest version is expensive. Get it on sale! Some games to look at: Yume Nikki, Hylics, In Stars and Time (hehe. I made it)

engine.lol: collage worlds! it is relatively new so I don't know much about it, but it seems fascinating. picture is from Garden! NOTE: There's a bunch of smaller engines to find out there. Just yesterday I found out there's an Idle Game Maker made by the Cookie Clicker creator. Isn't life wonderful?

✨more advice under the cut. this is Long ok✨

ENGINES I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT AND THEY SEEM HARD BUT ALSO GIVE IT A TRY I GUESS!!!! :

Unity and Unreal: I don't know anything about those! That looks hard to learn! But indie devs use them! It seems expensive! Follow your dreams though! Don't ask me how!

GameMaker: Wuh I just don't know anything about it either! I just know it's now free if your game is non-commercial (aka, you're not selling it), and Undertale was made on it! It seems good! You probably need some coding experience though!!!

Godot: Man I know even less about this one. Heard good things though!

BUNCHA RANDOM ADVICE!!!!

-Make something small first! Try making simple: a character is in a room, and exits the room. The character can look around, decide to take an item with them, can leave, and maybe the door is locked and you have to find the key. Figuring out how to code something like that, whether it is as a fully text-based game or as an RPGMaker map, should be a good start to figure out how your software of choice works!

-After that, if you have an idea, try first to make the simplest version of that idea. For my timeloop RPG, my simplest version was two rooms: first room you can walk in, second room with the King, where a cutscene automatically plays and the battle starts, you immediately die, and loop back to the first room, with the text from this point on reflecting this change. I think I also added a loop counter. This helped me figure out the most important thing: Can This Game Be Made? After that, the rest is just fun stuff. So if you want to make a dating sim, try and figure out how to add choices, and how to have affection points go up and down depending on your choices! If you want to make a platformer, figure out how to make your character move and jump and how to create a simple level! If you just want to make a kinetic visual novel with no choices, figure out how to add text, and how to add portraits! You'll be surprised at how powerful you'll feel after having figured even those simple things out.

-If you have a programming problem or just get confused, never underestimate the power of asking Google! You most likely won't be the only person asking this question, and you will learn some useful tips! If you are powerful enough, you can even… Ask people??? On forums??? Not me though.

-Yeah I know you probably want to make Your Big Idea RIGHT NOW but please. Make a smaller prototype first. You need to get that experience. Trust me.

-If you are not a womanthing of many skills like me, you might realize you need help. Maybe you need an artist, or a programmer. So! Game jams on itch.io are a great way to get to work and meet other game devs that have different strengths! Or ask around! Maybe your artist friend secretly always wanted to draw for a game. Ask! Collaborate! Have fun!!!

I hope that was useful! If it was. Maybe. You'd like to buy me a coffee. Or maybe you could check out my comics and games. Or just my new critically acclaimed game In Stars and Time. If you want. Ok bye

[hurtspideyparker]

In a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lives in the compound:

Steve, walking into the living room: Don't worry Buck I think you'll really fit in around here. Everyone is super nice

Peter: Oh my god you're living here too?! Can I please look at your arm? Please please please please please-

Bucky: *turns around and leaves*

-

Clint: So... wanna test if your spider-sense defeats my perfect aim?

Peter: Oh my god do I ever

Tony & Steve: NO.

-

Peter: Hi. Big fan. Y'know we're like a spider duo. Crime fighting spiders. Arachnid pals

Natasha, staring blankly:

Peter: Web friends? SPY-ders?

Natasha:

Peter: Spinneret associates?

Natasha: Leave.

Peter: Yes okay sorry ma'am

-

During a meal:

Bucky: *glaring at Sam*

Sam: Ay Rogers come get your dog

Steve: Bucky, leave it

Bucky: *glares down at soup instead*

-

Peter: Mr. Rogers could you help me with my homework?

Tony: What the hell kid, I'm right here

Bruce: I have... so many degrees

Steve: Hey I know a thing or two myself. Sure Queens, what do you got?

Peter: Great! I'm just gonna ask some questions for my essay. What would you say the role of war propaganda was in your decision to enroll in the military? Was being poor a factor? Actually, how was the Great Depression for you?

Steve: Less depressing than this conversation.

-

Steve: Take a jacket, it's chilly

Wanda: Okay thanks dad

Steve:

Wanda:

Peter: Ha! That's so embarrassing, it's like calling your teacher dad

Wanda: Shut up Peter, you call Tony dad all the time

Peter: Yeah but I do it on purpose so it's not embarrassing. I'm very open about my daddy issues

-

Tony: I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth

Steve:

Tony: Looking at me with your angelic blue eyes, like a freak

Steve:

Tony: Stupid Dorito ass build. Making me wanna take a bite

Steve: I feel harassed but I'm not sure what kind

-

Natasha: Hey bird brain!

Clint and Sam both turn:

Natasha: Hm, that's a problem. You have thirty seconds to decide who gets bird brain. The other will be feather head

Clint and Sam: *start arguing*

Tony: I can't believe they're fighting to be called an insult

Steve: She has that effect on people

Peter: Aw man, I wish the Black Widow gave me a nickname :(

-

Peter: Hey old man

Bucky:

Peter: I'M SO SORRY SIR MR. WILSON MADE ME DO IT PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Sam: *cackling in the background*

Bucky: *stands up and turns to Sam*

Sam: Oh shit- kid you're not getting the money if you're gonna snitch!

Peter: That's okay, I'd like to think my life is worth more than twenty bucks

-

Bucky: I need your... help

Tony: Sure, what's up?

Bucky: *glances back at Steve who stands in the doorway and nods approvingly*

Bucky: Arm.

Tony: Ok... this conversation is killing you isn't it?

Bucky:

Tony: Say please

Bucky: Nope can't do it-

Steve: Do I need to get out the get-along shirt?

*Bucky and Tony share a look of alarm*

Bucky: Please fix my arm

Tony: Yep of course no problem buddy

-

Read Part 2 and Part 3

[devosin]

COOKING HAVEN, them cooking, cooking together with them, food tasting, everything you want in a food related fic <3

gender neutral reader / tooth-rotting fluff / crack taken seriously / entire twst cast / Aggressive flirting? Aggressive Flirting. / Really indulgent /

01. HEARTSLABYUL

Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead as he fights the will to stare back up at Ace's hands, as he struggles to chop the peppers on the cutting board, . . "Ace . .?", he calls out as softly as he can muster, and he stares up at him, "yeah?" . . "Take off the knife guard"

Ace stares at him dumbfounded, his head tilting slightly as he looks back at him blankly, "What?" he asks, "The plastic cover on the knife, Ace.", he looks at the knife blankly, then attempts to pull off the cover, his mouth opening to a round 'O' shape, when it comes off.

"Sorry, first time using . . err, fancy knifes." he says as he sets the cover aside, moving back to cutting the peppers as slow as humanely possible, careful not to cut his hands, "Well it feels like the first time you've cut anything in general, so I don't know what argument you're trying to make here." Trey spits back, slightly agitated with his slow movements.

Cater and Riddle, setting up equipment, mainly because Trey doesn't trust Riddle in the kitchen yet, . . he also doesn't trust either of them to be alone with the equipment alone, but together, it's different.

"Trey said to boil four cups of water?", Riddle states but it comes out in the form of a question because honestly he doesn't know what he's doing, "Like a coffee mug, right?", Cater asks holding up a small mug he found on the counter, "I think so, I mean what's the difference!" (There is in fact, a massive difference.)

After setting that up, where they may or may not have spilt water all over the counter; Cater runs a rag through the wet counters, cleaning over the leftover residue, "Didn't Trey mention something about, needing some yeast?" he asks.

Riddle thinks for a moment, "I think we'll be fine, baking doesn't need yeast right."

"Yeah you're probably right", replies Cater, as he stretches his arms, "I guess were done then", Riddle nods, "Mhm, wonder why Trey didn't give us more work."

"Yeah it's almost like he doubts our abilities in the kitchen", Cater states casually, "But were so helpful", "Exactly." (The delusional speaking to the delusional.)

Y/n, Deuce, and Trey baking together.

"Ok so the soup is boiling, I think we can try prepping the bread now?", Trey asks, "Sure thing", you reply, while Deuce helps tie your apron from the back.

"Just one problem . ." Deuce speaks up, finally letting go of the strings of your apron, and looking around at the ingredients laid on the counter, ". . . We're out of yeast." . . You pause, "doesn't all baking recipes, require yeast—"

Trey blinks . . "GOD FUCKING DAMN IT."

02. DIASOMNIA

Lilia looks over the recipe book, about one whole time before he deems it useless and throws it to the side (It lands in the trash, because clearly THE Lilia Vanrouge doesn't require such things), "Okay so we need some flour, oil, water—", he continues listing ingredients while Sebek goes out of his way to grab everything he mentions as fast as possible on the table.

"—Salt, sugar, lemon", Sebek reaches into the cabinet, before muttering, "Lilia . . we're out of salt."

Lilia pauses, thinking for a moment, his inner cooking genius coming together in his head, trying to figure out a swift solution, "We can just use baking soda . . I mean they're both white powders, right?!", Sebek pauses, thinking it over, "Yeah sounds perfectly logical."

Malleus, you, and Silver were in charge of making drinks for the picnic you had planned.

"Where's Silver?" you ask Malleus, while he washes the fruits you both bought the day before, "He fell asleep, I didn't think it would be polite to wake him up", you hum in response, bringing out the chopping boards and knifes on the counter.

You both started cutting mindlessly, while chatting away, "So, what are we making anyways?", he asks curiously, "Just a virgin cocktail of sor—ow—fuck!", you drop the knife, "Are you okay?" Malleus asks, ushering to your side.

"I'm fine, it's just a small cut, do you have a band aid?", Malleus nods, "Let me go get it!" (He proceeded to do everything alone until silver woke up and choose to finally help with cutting the rest of the fruit.

The picnic was outside, everyone helped set up the area.

"Lilia . . what's this?", you ask curiously eyeing whatever baked good was on your plate . . (It shouldn't even be called a baked good), "I don't know, I just mixed a few things and threw it in the oven, it's good no?", he asks curiously.

"I can tell", Silver mumbles, as you bump his shoulders slightly, "Ah yes, so good—So good in fact, I might just save it for dinner . . I mean Crowley, and his underpayment—"

"You can take all of it back to Ramshackle", Lilia suggests, "NO!—I mean, I couldn't—really . . it would HURT me." (He delivered a basket of baked horrors to your dorm the next morning.)

03. SAVANACLAW

Ruggie draws out his sigh, a scowl permanently placed on his face, as he stares at your pathetic attempt at cutting meat, "No—not like that . . you're wasting so much good meat", he mumbled the last part, he's trying to be nice, really, but there's only so much patience one can maintain at your mediocre cutting abilities. 

"You're massacring the meat!", he states firmly, as he finally shoves you away from the cutting board, and takes over your job, leaving you no choice but to move aside and let him have his way, "You know, this wouldn't happen if you . . just taught me how to cut the meat . ." you mumble out in protest, your hands laying at your sides. 

"I did", he responds dismissively, "No, you just handed me a knife and told me to cut", "Exactly, it's called immersive learning, something you're clearly not good at." 

You hold up your middle finger, "Fuck you", you bite back, but Ruggie doesn't respond back this time, focusing more so on cutting the expensive cut of meat he got off of Leona's Credit Card.

Leona enters the kitchen while you both were well near finished with kitting the meat.

"Morning", he yawns out, "So close, it's the afternoon", you blurt out, rolling your eyes at his overall casual demeanor, meanwhile you've been dealing with star michelin chef Ruggie's nagging all morning, from your cutting game, to how you can't just eyeball salt levels. 

"Close enough" he shrugs, looking over the counter, "Watcha' making?", he asks blankly, "Minced meat, clearly", Ruggie says in the most deadpanned way possible, pointing to your mess of cut meat, "Oh shit, who massacred the meat?" Leona asks, Ruggie looks at you. 

You cough, and look away, "I tried teaching them", Ruggie says in the most distraught tone he can muster, "Well clearly not well enough", Leona states bluntly, and you let out a small chuckle at Ruggie's expense.  

Jack comes in, awhile after Leona leaves the room, he greets you both and looks at the cutting board, one side of minced and mushed meat, and the other with perfectly diced meat, "Who fuck up the meat?", he asks bluntly, and Ruggie looks at you again, "Seriously, is it that bad!?" 

04. POMEFIORE

"Are you sure I'm doing this right?", you mumble out, as you continue mixing away, "You're doing amazing, trickster!" Rook exclaims, way too fucking energetically for it being 3am in the goddamn morning, your arms were practically falling apart, already aching from the school day, and now you're stuck on mixing duty, of all things that are involved in the glorious process of baking, mixing is the worst part. 

“Ah—I think we need more apples, give me a moment”, Rook walks out of the kitchen, and Epel finally lays back, stretching his arms, before looking at you, a chuckle escapes him at your expression, “You look like shit”, he says blankly, “wow, I didn’t ask”, you respond back, staring at him blankly, as he moves closer to you. 

You guys stare at each other for a brief moment, before he smiles and flicks your forehead, “Cheer up, you look like the goddamn walking dead”. 

You blink, and a smile takes over your features after probably hours, “Fuck you”, you mumble out, under your breath, but he doesn’t take any offense, moving back to his original spot. 

A couple hours later, the pie was in the oven, the lights were off, Epel was on the counter, you sitting down beside the oven, while Rook was busy mixing some sort of cocktail or something, surprisingly he’s good at mixing drinks.

“So anyways, Ace was like, ‘he doesn’t even have a hairline, why does he need a comb for’—”, you speak, moving your hands around as you recount your story, when something enters the room, something green, and your oven alarm goes off, ‘ring, ring, ring’, and the next thing you know, you, Epel were screaming and running behind Rook. 

“Oh, Good morning Roi du Poison”, Rook says in his cheery voice, and you both turn your face from him to the figure on the door, and then Vil flicks on the lights, groaning, “Why are you two still up, and why are you YELLING!”, Vil says, trying to stay as calm as humanly possible, turns out he gets up at the ass crack of dawn, and that his morning mud mask is a putrid green, things to note. 

05. IGNIHYDE

Ortho, sets the flour on the counter, you'd be surprised at both his speed and strength if you didn't know he was a robot, and you're also not in the position to focus on him right now. 

"Do I need to wear this?", Idia asks softly, as you tie the pink apron on him from the bow, making sure the strings come together in a bow, "don't you want to make your brother happy?", you tease softly, a chuckle escaping you as you watch his shoulders slump and he mumbles out a soft, "yeah . . ", the tips of his hair burn pink, he’s embarrassed. 

"Do you need help with yours?", he asks pointing to the white apron on the counter, you'd usually say no, but who are you to refuse when he already seems flustered over asking in the first place, "Yeah." 

Idia fiddles with the straps of the apron, struggling to tie a proper knot—"This isn't too tight, right?", he asks softly, and you nod. He ties a messy knot, that somehow holds together, you don't have to look at him to know he's embarrassed, you smile loosely, walking closer to Ortho, “Shall we start?”. 

06. SCARABIA

Kalim sits on top of the counter, headphones on, dangling his legs (he’s just a girl . . jkjk), as he watches you and Jamil cook. Too bad those headphones were soundproof, because what he thought was a cute interaction was actually World War 3 for you, “You call this a roti?”, Jamil asks you, trying his best to remain calm (he’s failing horribly), “Well it’s technically a roti . . “ you try and reason, the ingredients were the same . . technically. 

“. . .”, he pauses, taking a few deep breaths, trying to control his voice, which wasn’t working, “THAT’S A GODDAMN TRIANGLE”, you stare at Jamil blankly, “The roti has a good personality!” 

Jamil lifts the big pot full of water onto the stove, and sets everything up, probably because he didn’t trust you with many things, except pouring water into the pot, though he eyed you through the entire process, which at that point he could just do it himself, “Now put in the spices”, he says, as he watches bring out the turmeric jar. 

“How much?” you ask, as you take out the measuring spoons from the cabinet, “As much as your heart desires, only stop when your heart tells you to stop.”, he replies in the most serious way possible that you almost believed him. 

“Jamil?” you ask, “Yes?” he replies, straightening his back, “I meant the spices, not my love life, I don’t need advice from you of all people.”

“ . . . “ he pauses, “get the hell out of my kitchen . .” (He’s about to blow, actually), "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY—"

07. OCTAVINELLE

“Are you sure this is a reputable idea?”, you ask Azul as he looks through the ingredients Jade brought in for his new recipe idea, you don’t exactly understand why they asked you for your help, he has a multitude of workers to select from, but who are you to deny a cash offering, that’s just silly, Azul shakes his head, “Jade’s tastes are surely questionable, but he never fails when it comes to the Monstro Lounge.” he responds with a smile, his pen checking off everything in his list. 

“Why is Shrimpy here?”, Floyd asks curiously, leaning into the counter, placing his head in his hands, “To help, I guess . .” You respond, and Floyd shakes head, “No . . you need to eat”, Floyd says bluntly, “What? I ate!”, you snip back at him, confused at the sudden shift in topic, “No yeah, that’s why we asked you to come here, Floyd said you weren’t eating properly.”, Azul shrugs, as if this was just the most normal thing ever. 

And now you're here, on the table, eating something they served you, while Jade keeps you company, because apparently he’s not allowed in the kitchen for a month, after last week’s incident, which honestly you don’t want to know about. 

You take a bite of the pasta, they gave you way too big of a serving if you were being honest, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you gave up trying to shut them down, you look up, and find Jade staring at you, “What?” you ask him curiously. 

“You have something on your face”, he says blankly and you quickly rub your face, trying to get whatever it is off, and he chuckles, “Kidding, you’re really easy to trick”, you frown but continue eating the food in front of you, “Hey . . Do you happen to know why Floyd calls you shrimpy?”, he asks, eyeing you curiously. 

You shake your head, no, "You wanna know why?", he asks casually, almost comfortingly but you try not to misread the situation, you nod, "Why?" 

"Because you're like a shrimp, tiny and weak, on the lower end of the food-chain—", you throw a piece of bread at him, "I'm kidding—Stop wasting the bread!", he says, as he moves away before you can throw more at him, "What's the real reason?", you ask again, "Because you seem weak and sad, I mean with how Crowley treats you and all—", he pauses, “he didn’t explain more than that, but you seemed lonely, like a lot of shrimps.” 

And that's when it hits you, like a truck, these fish breath assholes, care . . a lot . .  more than you give them credit for. 

commissions / discord server / (limited time only) personalized advent calendar

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Dating Sevika (some NSFW)

Possessive much???

always always always has to have a hand on you

not big on public displays of affection but it;; be a hand on the back of your neck, or pulling you by the wrist or a hand on your inner thigh if you're sat next to her

Love (and I mean *loves*) to subtly turn you on while other people are there

whether it be flexing those big muscles or whispering something to you and then biting your earlobe she will do it just to get you soaked and ready for later

very protective

like, she made you go about with body guards until you begged her to stop that

now she makes them follow you from a distance

you know that but it's better than it was

she wants you to be safe, ok?

Big. Strap, Energy

((and a big strap reality if we're being super honest))

makes her feel powerful

humiliation kink for sure

watching you gag and spit running down your chin while she shoves her fingers or strap down your throat...

she's never seen you look more beautiful.

unpredictable sleeper

like, you've accidentally slammed the door way to hard and she continued snoring

she denies snoring btw

but one time you got up to get a glass of water and as you closed the fridge she was standing there- scaring the shit out of you

will no, does not and cannot tolerate others hitting on you or even complimenting you

a guy smiled at you for "too long", in Sevika's words, and now his face is in a cast

you know that song where it's like "that boy is a really pussy pleaser"?

yeah well, that song also describes Sevika

she will keep you in bed for hours, she'll tie you down if she has to

was pretty shy when you two first got together but once it was clear the feeling was mutual between you two, she got so cocky so fast

she's into goddamn everything

thigh riding, face fucking, over stimulation, body worship, praising you non stop, straps, bondage, degradation, crying kink, humiliation kink.... do I need to go on?

she's an acts of service gal

the first time you got sick she showed up at your door with homemade, still warm chicken soup

didn't say a word just handed it to you and walked in

you woke up from a nap and she'd done your laundry and washed up

she won't let you recognise that she's done those things for you either, you'll try and thank her and she'll instantly change the subject.

She doesn't get obsessed with people easily but when she's pussy whipped she is pussy whipped!

always future planning

pillow talk for you two is her talking about where you guys will be 5 years from now, how you'll be living so good together

she's a quiet drunk

a horny drunk too

she'll come home from the bar late and just feel you up, really manhandle you

all the while whispering about how bad she needs you right now and you're all she's thought about all day

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.1k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone would be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone was brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely couldn't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise was needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lacked yourself—otherwise, they wouldn't last a second with Gojo.

It'd be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also didn't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else could take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there it goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she couldn't handle him but because she was your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually cared about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she didn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else.

Burdening her was completely out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'? You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really had to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she could was her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you're quick to blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or were Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth was killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach put the final nail in the coffin as she reminded you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you needed help would be silly because technically it was true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break long ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It was better than nothing because if you couldn't function, Gojo couldn't be cared for.

And when you really think about it, who better to fill in for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock since you started at the ward, She's had your back, sticking with you through tough times at work when staff constantly dipped in and out of the facility like a rotating door after being unable to handle the job.

A real day one.

Next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patiently in check.

It'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest."

She's too kind and right in more ways than one.

"Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend, you think?"

Your eyes roll—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

You don't know whether to joke back or wave her off, softly smiling at her concern instead before nodding. You vow to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges. Almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks on the interstate, hogging the road, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheerful nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers, lulling you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of the melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the foamy bubbles, when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from surprise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike swept into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body said nothing was. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out heading straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean floors due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you were used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you needed to. The truth is painfully clear.

It's disrespectful even to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong, and your heart feels as if it'll burst from your chest any moment now just thinking about it. Crushing guilt wrapped you in its clutches, but it was nothing compared to the pain you might've caused.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, heart beating into your ears making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet with each step until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth becoming suddenly dry mouth when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you as attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a hammer.

Someone as kind as her, so full of light, love, and joy, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil was still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he tugs and pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and you can feel the tense stares. The unspoken judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

You don’t know if the murmurs are real or only in your head, but the effect is all the same, making you wish you could completely vanish.  You stand like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

Gojo brims with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. As if he's daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face making you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, something...uncertain lurks behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knew he had done something wrong.

Words escape you, as if anything even needs to or could be said. But fear and guilt soon turn to anger and threatens to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust.

You are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself.

Your fists clench as you hold back tears. 

What was done was done. And someone needed to pay.

But you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at the results of what happened the last time you decided to punish Gojo. All of your actions, even now, rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

You push down the knot growing in your stomach and turn away to follow the medics.

Your friend needed you more than you needed revenge.

And Gojo didn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it meant risking your job or even your life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbered thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained makes you nervous���you don't want anyone else to get hurt and Gojo knows that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm.

But it's an obviously losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

He sees no one else in the room, eyes locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it'll never be enough. Not even the goddamn military. Gojo...is the strongest, after all.

"Stop this."

Your cry freezes the room, plunging everything into a tense silence.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

You take a deep, shaky breath, silently apologizing to Yuko.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic.

But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes in surprise, amazement even, then smiles.

The submission in your voice sounded better than he could ever imagine. Like sweet music feeding his already inflated ego.

The guards exchange uneasy glances, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, and it's evident that restraining him forever is not possible.

And you know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this was your doing. Your mess to clean up.

You squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling to the guards to let him go. They hesitate, then reluctantly agree and step back, leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

You close your eyes and breathe, hating the idea of looking at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. And everyone else in the ward.

Gojo's satisfied grin says it all.

Let's get this over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head off if he wanted to.

Still Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, surprisingly, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And there was no need to ask why. The entire ward shot daggers at you any time someone walked by now.

She reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then patted your back as if to say, "lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding the half-pill out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering, he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting.

You took a deep breath and placed them both on your tongues, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity to feel you and closed his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed without needing the water you had set aside, a confusing mix of emotions churning as it spread through the rest of your body.

He made good on his promise and swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing look. And damn him, he's probably still thinking about it.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo. A stereotypical hint lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers. And laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around the face him, furious. Debating on whether to slap him, kick him, or knock his teeth out. Or be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water. A move you know would do no good but show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny. You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend."

His laugh fades, smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches.

...the hell is this??

You squint at him.

The words were muttered, reluctant, but there they were, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races when you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue rather than waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Now you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that. Stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he truly meant them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns, along with that smile that twists your stomach into knots.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it was, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind other than frustration.

Damn it, you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your little kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." He finishes with a wink.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory. A fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands, the jarring evidence of him not as invincible as he seems. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," and he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. But it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers into the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and feel sick even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward, lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water but the rustling fabric as he pulls the shirt over his head and pants to the ground sends heat to your cheeks.

He certainly isn't lacking in physique, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. So cute trying to hide away your thoughts.

You toss in his loofah, "Well...go on. Your water's ready." But Gojo can only grin, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Still managing to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the swirling conflict in your easy heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he just refuses to turn off. Everything was always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. He picks up a handful and actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away.

His pale eyes flutter, settling on you in a curious way.

He leans, arms flexing over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with this ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him managing to still be so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society, tf did you think??", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with bubbles.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster. Still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

But then again, this was your job...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption, no matter how twisted they seem.

Loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before gently washing his back.

He sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of his marked skin between the foam and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to the dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won. Evidence of his past before corruption. Everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

This is another first for you, this level of care. Gojo usually just hops into the shower and takes care of himself as you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably gets stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs and making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his lower region, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery so he can handle this himself.

You ignore his comment, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. You're humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

You want to scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

The water feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" his velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, down his sides, rhythm almost hypnotic and making the man's head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, to try to regain your slipping control, but you're in a losing battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

ANd God, he has to bite his lip at your touch that feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again. You've been hit not once, but twice in a day—a new personal record.

Instinctively, you reach up to shield yourself, the loofah slipping from your hand, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream prepares to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand and places a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." He swipes a lone droplet hanging from your eyelash. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, nerves on fire as you're forced into this close proximity for the second time today. Inches away from his face that softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better but he never felt threatened in the first place.

Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach. His finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

"Now," his eyes flicker to your bottom lip, "You're so very good at your job, Nurse." He smoothly pulls it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to my strength, let alone deal with me yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel.

"You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of it, any of this.

You hesitate, unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will fare against me then, hmm?"

Gojo knows he's a prodigy, yet he still manages to surprise himself sometimes, eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter. He almost feels a prick from the daggers you throw with your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that, Nurse," and he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

Gojo slightly tilts his head.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing.

Instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, salacious, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark. Wondering what his idea of "fun" was like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, instead you burn between your legs.

Fuck, you've got to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. Gruffing, you lower to your knees and begin drying the floor of his messes, hoping to distract you from your questionable sanity.

Rustling fabric fills the chamber as he dries off, and when you figure it's safe, you look up to a nude Gojo. Still dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Ah, let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

Standing on your tiptoes to reach it, a sliver of your midriff peeked out, but what captured his attention most was the way the sun rays washed your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of them between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your sentiment was...odd.

This was the first time anyone had cared to do something so simple for Gojo. And the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict and Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again.

"Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?"

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward now, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off and who could blame her?

You were the anomaly he chose to show mercy to and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova." She cleared her throat and did a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way the stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you scramble to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall taking deep breaths, completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, Yuko, flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's all just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurer in the shadows awaiting your every move.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You find yourself scrolling through your phone, deep-diving the web for information on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

The man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible. Conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own sanity. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax, sleeping eluding you and mind wandering to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to seem him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[suksatoru]

𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚

synopsis; you find a broken touya todoroki bloodied and bruised. and as a civilian with a healing quirk, you make the mistake of saving what you believed to be an innocent man.

Touya Todoroki was all alone.

He's been this way for a while now. He never expected his life to go back to the way it was before - when he was loved. So when his eyes shudder open, the feeling of someone struggling to hold him up while he is barely conscious, he immediately lunges forward to attack.

Your eyes widen as you dodge the blast of fire directed right at your face, letting out a gasp as you move out of the way - holding up the bloodied man in your arms with all your strength as his eyes finally pry open

"Don't move! You're going to bleed out, please! I'm not trying to hurt you, ok?" You desperately plead, but he lunges again - this time narrowing his piercing gaze on you as he tries again to attack you. He misses, and he realizes yes, you were right. He was, in fact, bleeding heavily.

His movements become groggy and slow, and he struggles to lift his arm once again to pry you off as he drops it in defeat. "Let go." He muttered, and you could barely decipher his words because of his raspy voice - he squeezes your arm threateningly, but it doesn't hurt because he barely has any strength left to make an impact

His eyes fight to stay open, he's digging his nails into your skin and you're saying something - but he can't hear a word.

── .✦

He wakes up an entire day later, lifting his head off the couch as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

You freeze in the hallway, hearing a groan from your living room as you quickly rush in to see if the man in your apartment is finally awake - you've been on edge all morning for him to wake up - and now that he was, you were terrified as to what he would do.

"Where the hell am I?" He growls, and you hesitantly waver in the doorway - waiting for him to notice you.

Black hair was tousled from sleep, and he gazes down at the bandages wrapped around his arms and abdomen as a strange feeling flickers through him - who did this?

"Good morning."

His head slowly turns towards you - and you swallow the lump in your throat when he glares at you with nothing but hot, burning rage.

"Who the hell are you and what did you fucking do to me?"

You frown. Did he know you collapsed onto the floor after using every ounce of energy you had to heal his wounds? Surely not. Hopefully, he'd let you live to explain your intentions. A silent part of you is chanting please don't kill me, when his lips pull back into a scowl.

"I have a healing quirk. Please take notice to the fact that you no longer have any injuries - !" You snap, hands on your hips as he stars back in utter confusion

"Hah?"

You carefully take a step forward, moving to reach out towards his stomach to unravel the bandage - but he jerks away from you almost immediately

"The bandage. Let me take it off for you." You say, voice softer as you hover a single finger over his skin. He stares at you - the gears shifting in his mind as he moves his arms - giving you room to work.

Your touch is gentle. That's what he notices when he watches you carefully unravel the material around his waist - you're quiet. Too quiet as you stare at him with the same intensity in his gaze as he stares at you.

"Did you save me?"

You look up, finally smiling for getting the recognition you deserved for saving a total stranger

"Hell yeah I did."

── .✦

He didn't know how it happened, but he blamed everything on the fact that you were simply irresistible to him.

It's because of you - he is most definitely not in the wrong. You were completely at fault for touching him so softly and speaking so sweetly. He should've jumped out of your window the moment he regained his strength - but you kept him stuck there with that smile.

He was stuck on that damn couch for nearly a week, with you spooning him soup and chatting his ear off.

"See, I was just trying to get my groceries. Then, a guy beat half to death is thrown out at my feet from an alleyway! Did you know I dropped half of my bags trying to pick you up? Oh! Speaking of groceries, I'm going shopping for some today. Do you want anything?"

He sinks further into the couch, silent and still glaring at you.

You blink back, feeding your 'patient' another spoonful of soup as he swallows down the hot meal greedily

"Soba." He finally mumbles, and he doesn't miss the way your entire face brightens at his words - he hadn't spoken a word all day, and the fact that he had some sort of a preference for what food he ate made you realize you could make his recovery process the slightest bit easier.

He'd became accustomed to eating your cooking over the years. Even when he'd come back from missions hours after he'd promised he'd be back - he'd find you sitting at the table, cold food plated beside you while you fell asleep waiting for him to come home to you.

He blamed you for a lot of things he couldn't control - he blamed you for making him soft, turning his heart to putty and welding the broken pieces back together. He wanted to hate you sometimes for how you had changed his perspective on things - things he had been taught to hate.

"Touya."

His eyes flutter open, and you hover over him with a smile as he let's out a groan of annoyance

"What do you want?" He mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling back into his spot between your shoulder and neck

"Get up sleepy head!" You whine, trying to pull him off of you as he nestles further into your embrace - pressing an open mouthed kiss onto your chin that has you squirming beneath him

"No." He mumbles with a small smile on his lips. His words were muffled against your skin as you gently cradle his cheek

"Shigaraki said we need to go."

Right. It wasn't too long after he met you that he introduced you to the league - insisting you were a valuable asset. Asset. That's all you were - nothing but a piece in his puzzle to getting his revenge on the past. So why was he sleeping in your bed every night, holding you and running his fingers up and down your spine while promising a better future?

He was conflicted - one part of him seemed content with running off with you and finding a quiet little house on top of a hill somewhere far away from the world, making it a home where the two of you could live out the rest of your lives in peace.

And another part of him wanted to push everyone away - including you, to achieve his plans. Create a future where the fragments of his past did not exist. Like a world where his father is erased.

He was losing you - so slowly as he descended into madness.

He failed to notice you too were falling apart.

── .✦

How many times had Touya said he'd be home before midnight? Well, just about every night.

Sometimes he wouldn't come home for days, leaving you stuck at the Leagues hideout for too long - letting your mind wander and come up with all sorts of possibilities.

You had found Touya during a dark part of your life - when you were rejected by your family and kicked out, forced to live your teenage years in a dangerous town simply because it was the only way you could survive.

Touya made those years a little easier.

"Where were you?"

He freezes in the doorway. You can see the muscles in his back tense as he sighs, turning to you with tired eyes as he meets your heartbroken gaze

"I told you not to wait up for me anymore."

You step forward, tears threatening to spill as you reach for his arms - he jerks back, but you tug his sleeve up to reveal new burns on his once supple and soft pale skin.

Your eyes brim with tears as you shake your head - crying out why as his lips pull back into a growl

"Don't you dare cry - "

"You're hurting yourself!"

It was the same argument every time, the one thing you two could never agree on. He told you he needed to do this. You told him he didn't - but he never listened. He's always been so stubborn - even when he was a little kid.

Touya would regret not seeing what he truly needed had been right in front of him the entire time.

He's falling apart - and you were struggling to hold the pieces together as he ruined himself beyond repair.

── .✦

Keigo Takami was the hero Dabi had been so hell bent on recruiting, the one who would look at you with a sadness you didn't understand.

"He's losing himself. I just want him to stop." You confessed one day, and Hawks could only lift a hand to swipe the tears rolling down your pink cheeks as his wings spread out to wrap around your trembling figure

He didn't know what to say.

── .✦

After he loses his fight against his family, you realize Touya, Dabi - whatever he was, is gone.

He disappeared without a trace. Leaving everything - the League, his family, you, behind.

After being told he was almost certainly dead, you realize all those years ago when you believed you saved Touya - you were wrong.

It didn't matter how many times you pieced that broken boy back together - when it was you falling apart, he had left the shattered renments on the ground and walked away.

a/n; i have an idea for part two in mind! lmk if u guys want one 🤗 plz don't be mad at me for this i was in a teehee mood! :(

[peachsayshi]

I have an a request!!! What about boy dad gojo taking care of his son while his s/o is sick? Maybe he takes him to work and face time her with his son when he has a break or between classes?? And his son misses her a lot cause it’s his first time seeing her sick🥹

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni   ➳  tags: fluff; dad gojo and son reader

"mama! wanna talk to mama!"

"easy, tiger," satoru consoles, using his long arm to pull the phone away from his son's grabbing fingers.

"dada, wanna talk to mama!" his son insists, inching his body forward which prompts satoru to adjust his legs so his boy doesn't climb off his thighs. using his other hand, the sorcerer lightly runs his fingers through his child's soft locks to calm down his excitement while and in the meantime taps away at the screen to video call you.

"there you go," he whispers as he brings the phone to his son's line of sight, his heart swelling when you finally answer the call.

"hi," you croak softly, your voice thick and hoarse while you rub your tired eyes. "what time is it?"

"it's lunch-"

"mama!" your son interrupts, his small hands curling over satoru's fingers as he holds both sides of the screen. "mama, miss you!"

"hey, cutie", you reply with a tiny smile, but satoru can see the exhaustion weighing heavy on your face. "miss you soo much,"

you've been sick for the last four days. a terrible cold that's kept you bedridden. satoru and your son have been isolating to make sure that they don't catch what you have, but your boys have been wallowing without you around. your son has been extra needy and keeps bringing up his "mama" every chance he can get. satoru is in the same position as well, hating that he can't cuddle up to you in the middle of the night, or that he can't wake up to your good morning kisses.

"mama sick," your son says with a furrow of his brows, moving his hand over the screen like he's trying to touch your face. "mama get better ok?"

he's still learning his words, trying to form whatever sentences he can with the vocabulary that he has.

you nod your head, "yeah, baby, I'll be better soon,"

your son smiles at the camera, his eyes twinkling with delight. "kisses!" he announces, before leaning forward and pressing his lips onto the phone screen.

you blow him back three kisses in return.

at this point satoru can't help but feel a little left out, so he arches forward to rest his chin on his son's shoulder, the two of them now centering the screen.

it's wild seeing them both together because they really do look like twins. your son's hair stands as a harsh contrast because it is identical to yours, but his eyes are a blend of your love. there's an icy blue that pierces through his natural color on the left side, a unique trait that distinguishes him entirely.

"can I get some kisses too?" satoru pouts at the camera, and your son obliges but placing one kiss on his cheek.

satoru can't help but grin, "thanks, rugrat, but I was hoping the kisses would come from your mama..."

"but mama sick," your son answers nonchalantly, twisting his body slightly so he was turning toward's his father's instead.

"she just blew you some kisses," he answers back with a raised brow. "I can't get any?"

your son blatantly shakes his head no.

satoru deadpans at the phone screen, and you have to use the blanket to cover your amused grin but you clear your throat as a cough escapes you, and satoru can't help but wince.

"how are you feeling? is the medicine helping at all?" he adds.

"yeah, it is. I'm feeling much better today actually."

"there's a pot of soup in the fridge " he continues, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink. "I made it last night"

satoru toiling away in the kitchen is a rare sight. the man grew up spoiled, and rarely ever had to take care of himself. you're the only person who knows that the first time he ever touched a stove was in his late teens, with shoko and suguru assisting in teaching him. he doesn't experiment much, but he was able to perfect a handful of recipes over time.

your eyes widen, glisten with absolute love. "thanks, handsome. I'll be sure to heat some up..."

"just want to see you back on your feet, angel," satoru murmurs, and presses his cheek against' the plush surface of his son's. "you've got us pining over here, isn't that right?"

your son nods his head, bringing one hand to hold his father's jaw. "sick bad, want mama t'get better now..." he acknowledges.

(meanwhile, you sneakily take a screenshot of the two of them in frame)

requests are open for dad gojo.

[sweetbunpura]

*Yuu explaining Christmas to Rollo*

Rollo, hiding behind his handkerchief and narrowing his eyes: So, an old man breaks into your home via the chimney, steals some sweets and some milk, and in return he leaves "gifts" under a tree and in stockings hanging on the hearth for the children of the home? A man that is apparently watching childrens' every movement to see if they've been "naughty" or "nice" and keeps a list of all of these children? Yuu, my love, forgive me if I say, I would not trust this man within five feet of any child.

Yuu: Ok, I know it can seem weird when framed like that, but Santa is just a story! He isn't real!

Rollo, snorts: Yes, but it is a story that can make children almost automatically trust a home intruder during the winter season if they have a white beard and claim to have gifts for them. Surely you can see just how dangerous that is?

Yuu: Rolls, it's a holiday. You don't need to overthink it..

Rollo, glaring up at the elf on the shelf sitting on the bookshelf: And I do not trust his surveillance "elves" either. He looks far to innocent.

Yuu, offended gasp: Don't diss my boy Jeffery like that Rolls!

Yuu: If Santa weirds you out, then learning about Krampus would be the next thing.

Rollo: Krampus?

Yuu: He's a half demon, half goat monster that punishes kids into being good....and in some interpretations, he eats kids.

Rollo: ....

Yuu, looks over to see Gidel and Grim looking at them in horror.

Gidel, signs: We get eaten!?

Grim: We don't get presents!?

Yuu, laughs and waves her hand: You guys don't have to worry about that! Santa isn't real.....Hey Bones!

Skully, pokes head into room while wearing a halloween christmas sweater: Yes?

Yuu: When you were with Jack...did you see a fat guy in a red coat?

Skully, frowns: Yeah...but he doesn't hold a candle to Jack!

Yuu: ....Shit, Santa's real.

Rollo: Board up everything!

Fellow, walks in holding a pot of soup and in an apron: What is happening?

Yuu: This is my own fault....

[victorianbatman]

ATLA/LOK incorrect quotes

F, M & GN reader | every scenario without the readers gender being specified is Gender Neutral.

Bolin, on the phone with Mako: Mako, I need you to come pick me up.

Mako: Why?

Bolin: Y/n is busy passive-aggressively doing the dishes they asked me to do 6 hours ago.

Bolin: This house is not safe anymore.

-

Mako: Hey, whats for dinner?

Bolin: I cant tell you, its a soup-rise.

Mako: Is it soup?

Y/n: We soup-ose is could be.

Mako: Enough with the soup puns you two.

Bolin: Aww, you never soup-port our jokes.

[Five minutes later]

Mako: It was fucking tacos.

-

Mako: The stars look really pretty tonight.

Y/n: Yeah, they do.

Mako: You know who else looks pretty tonight?

Y/n: Asami.

Mako, at the same time: Korra.

Y/n: What?

Mako: What?

-

Toph: Do you do anything other than whine like a little bitch?

Y/n: Sometimes I whine like a BIG bitch.

-

Mako, not looking up from his book: What did she(Kuvira) do now?

Y/n: SHE SMILED!

Mako: At you?

Y/n: No, at her dumb friends, but she looks like an angel.

Mako: Go away, Y/n.

Y/n: Shut up, I watched you pine after Korra while in a relationship with Asami.

Mako: Go on.

-

Korra: We can bake these cookies at 400 degrees for 10 minutes or 4,000 degrees for 1 minute.

Lin: That’s not how you make cookies.

Y/n: FLOOR IT!

Bolin: How about 4,000,000 degrees for 1 second?

Lin: yOURE GONNA BURN THE HOUSE DOWN!!

Korra: IM GONNA HARVEST THE POWER OF THE FUCKING SUN TO MAKE COOKIES!!

Y/n&Bolin: DO IT!

Lin: NO-

-

Korra: I’m small, but knowing.

Tall!Y/n: You dont be knowing what the top of a shelf looks like though.

Korra: …

Tall!Y/n: …

Korra: Bitch.

-

Bolin and Mako watching Y/n from a distance chase a squirrel.

Bolin: Thats the person I see myself married to in the future.

Bolin: Thoughts?

Mako: …

Bolin: …

Mako: ..and prayers, bro.

-

Y/n: My autistic friend(book 1 zuko) is my favourite person on the planet. I asked if he would still be friends with me if I got a mullet and without looking up he said “we are not friends” like ok bestie.

-

Korra: Theres only one thing worse than losing.

[Tips over paper saying ‘losing Y/n’]

Y/n: Me.

Korra: No-

-

Y/n: Are you sure you’re ok?

Zuko, crying: Yeah, it’s just these onions, man.

Y/n: …

Zuko: …

Y/n: Those are potatoes.

-

[Asami, puts on chapstick]

Y/n: What flavour is that?

Asami: oh its [chapstick flavour].

Y/n: Lemme taste.

Asami: Sure.

[hands chapstick]

Y/n, kisses Asami

Y/n: Shit it does actually taste like [Chapstick flavour].

[Asami blushing like crazy]

-

Y/n: Aang, why do good people die young?

Aang: When you are in a garden full of flowers, which one do you pick?

Y/n: The ugly ones.

Aang: Exactly- wait wait what, why?

Y/n: Because ugly bitches dont belong in my garden.

-

Toph: Hi, im your doctor today, I’ll be drawing your blood as soon as I’m done with my capri sun.

[Misses the hole four times before finally getting the straw in]

[Y/n, sweats profusely]

-

Sokka: I have the sharpest memory, name one time I forgot something.

Y/n: You forgot me and Suki back in the fire nation 3 weeks ago.

Sokka: I did that on purpose, try again.

-

Y/n: Listen to me, love is a scam.

Bolin: You’re making a valentines card for Mako right now.

Y/n, points glue gun at him: You’re on thin fuckin ice.

-

Zuko: Whats with the napkin on the glass door?

Y/n: Aang keeps walking into the glass door, so I thought this might help.

Aang: Oh cool, a floating napkin!

[Walks into glass door]

[talaok]

His favorite patient

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

Summary: Your friend Pedro takes care of you while you're sick, and he's such a good doctor, that something sparks between the two of you.

warnings: reader being sick and having a fever (?) and my shitty writing cause im tired

(this was a request, and a very beautiful one too)

All you had done was text him that you were sick, and the next thing you knew, he was knocking at your door. 

And that wasn't even the weirdest part, the weirdest part was that you weren't surprised, because that's how Pedro was, caring, protective, and always there for you, no matter what.

The first thing he'd done as you opened the door was scolding you for even being up, and consequently, the second was ushering you to your own couch and forcing you to sit down.

You laughed the whole time at how worried he was, but then again, your genuine gratitude shined through with his every act, a gentle smile and a "thank you" spilled out of your lips the moment he made you tea, or wrapped you up in a blanket, or pulled you into his chest when the cover stopped being enough.

You remained like that, hiding in his arm while watching tv for the whole afternoon, but unfortunately, after he'd made you some soup (which you had tried convincing you could cook on your own) and ate it with you, it was time for him to go. 

So with a heavy heart and a final hug, he was gone... only to return 2 minutes later.

"Missed me already?" you joked, opening the door again

"Always" he smiled, before getting more serious "I have a problem with my car" he explained "It's not turning on, and I-" he scratched the back of his neck, trailing off "I kind of have no way of getting home"

"oh" you breathed, understanding the situation "You can just stay here" You shrugged, the solution obvious in your eyes

"Are you sure? I don't wanna be a burden or anythin-"

"a burden?" you frowned, stunned "What are you talking about Pedro, you could never be a burden" you promised, inviting him in again "and plus... I feel safer with my own personal doctor here with me" you grinned playfully

"yeah?" he laughed "Well then how could I refuse to help my favorite patient?"

"Favorite?" you gasped, feigning flatter as your right hand went to your heart "You're gonna make me blush doctor"

He snorted at that, his eyes lingering on yours for a second too long.

"Well then, the doctor's ordering bed rest"

You scowled at him, rolling your eyes

"I'm already starting to regret my decision" you muttered, but in no time, you were laid beneath the covers, ready to go to sleep.

"Ok then you're all set, I'll go prep the couch" he said, starting for the door

"what?" you asked

"the couch, I need to-"

You stopped him before he could go on

"You're not sleeping on the couch Pedro" you stated, watching his brows frown "It's uncomfortable as hell" you explained "and there's enough room here for the both of us" Your eyes went to the empty spot beside you

"Oh- no, y/n I can't"

"yes, yes you can" you interrupted him again "And you will" you decided "I'm sick, so that means you have to do whatever I tell you"

"sweetheart..."he sighed, glaring at you

"please" you pouted, "It would make me feel better knowing you're close to me" you pleaded, your best puppy eyes on you.

And what could Pedro do but not agree when you were looking at him like that? He was only a man after all.

"alright" he grumbled, "but I hope you know that means you'll have to hear me snore the whooole night"

But as it turns out, you didn't.

Your fever started going up the moment you shut off the lights, you turned and tossed the whole night, while him... he stayed up with you, checking your fever, giving you medicine and placing wet cold cloths on your forehead, until finally... you started feeling better and began drifting off... if only, of course, those damned church bells hadn't rung.

But even then, Pedro was there, placing his hands on your ears to try and protect you from the noise, and once they stopped, once he had gotten a taste of how good it felt to stay so close to you, well then he didn't have it in him to lean away, so he did the opposite: he put his arm around you and pulled you close, gently whispering "You need to rest", before inevitably, you did as told.

And it was only the morning after that you remembered all of it, it was only once you woke up, his arm still reassuringly around you, his words still reverberating in your ear, that you realized everything.

"good morning" he murmured, his head nestled into your neck

"morning" you smiled, your voice hoarse as you turned around to look at him, finding him but an inch from your face... and yet he didn't lean away.

"thank you" you whispered "for everything"

"darling I'm always gonna be here for you, whatever you need"

You smiled wide, watching his eyes fall to your lips 

"stop it" you murmured

"stop what?" he laughed

"being so nice"

"why?" he asked, smiling

You bit your lip, pondering if saying what you wanted to say really was a good idea... but then again, it was the truth, so...

"'cause you're making me want to kiss you"

"'s that right?" he smirked, inching closer

"mh-mh" 

"and what's stopping you?"

"I don't want you to get sick" you said, watching him huff a laugh

"sweetheart" he shook his head, grinning brightly "I would catch a thousand colds if it meant I got to kiss you"

And although your heart skipped a beat, you couldn't help but laugh out a quick "that's disgusting", before his lips finally met with yours.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

You OK? - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1433>

"OK, this should help your nose," you said, handing a stuffy Charles a steaming mug of peppermint tea, hoping it might clear his nose out somewhat. "But I don't like it," he mumbled, begrudgingly holding the mug in his hands.

"I know you don't, but you're going to have to deal with it," you told him, taking his hand and gently pulling him over to the couch. "Now, I'm going to make dinner while you stay here and get some rest," you told him, pushing him down.

You draped a blanket over him, making sure he was all cozy before kissing him on the forehead. As much as Charles was cute when he was sick, when he got sick, he got sick. And this time, he had a horrendous cold. 

He relied on you for everything, whether it be getting him dressed in the morning, to the simple things like getting him a glass of water. It was a hell of a good job he wasn't driving for another week, giving him plenty of time to recover. 

"I don't need dinner, I just want you," he complained, pulling his arms out of the blanket and holding them out to you. "You need to eat, Charles," you smiled, dodging him as he tried to grab you. "This isn't fair," he pouted, his flushed cheeks and ruffled hair adding to the ultimate picture. 

"Life isn't fair, darling," you smiled, going back to the kitchen to get started on a classic chicken soup. It was a staple for any person who had a cold, and Charles was no exception. You heard a huffed sigh from Charles, as you heard the muffled thud of him falling sideways onto the couch.

After around fifteen minutes, you heard the sound of shuffling behind you. "You OK, my love?" You called out, not turning to look at whatever he was getting up to behind you. You didn't receive a response, you just felt arms wrap around your waist and a head on your shoulder. 

"Can you come and sit with me for a bit? Dinner can wait," he sniffled, pressing himself into your back as much as he could. Charles was still wrapped up in his blanket, but he still wasn't as comforted as he could have been with you. 

"I won't be long, go and sit down and get comfy," you told him, still setting things into the pot, ready to go on the stove. "But I need you to be comfy, baby" he whined, burying his face into your neck as his breath was warm on your skin. 

"I promise, I will be with you once I'm done with this," you said, feeling him grip onto you even tighter. "I'll just stay here until you're done," he said, resting more of his weight onto you. You knew he was stubborn, so you were fine with just leaving him there. 

You stepped to the side to grab something out of the fridge, and you heard a groan come from him as he was detached from you for a split second. "Amour, you've gotta tell me when you move," he told, resuming his position of being clung to you like a turtle shell. 

"OK, darling, OK," you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "Left in one, two, three," you counted down, before the both of you took a step left in unison. You felt him smile against your neck, clearly liking the system you had going. 

"I'll let that warm through, then dinner is served," you said, spinning in his arms and marveling at the sight of him, all wrapped up in his blanket. "I feel like shit, baby," he groaned, leaning forward and resting his head on your shoulder again. 

You could hear how blocked his nose was, and there was nothing you could do to help him. "Do you want a tissue?" you asked as he sniffled again. 

"Yeah, please," he nodded, and you went to the bathroom to grab him one. As you took your first step, he grabbed your hand and walked with you. He didn't want to be without you for a second on a normal day, but when he was sick, he got clingy and he needed physical contact with you at all times. 

"We can go and sit now," you said, as he took your hand again and you took him to the couch. You allowed him a minute to get comfortable, before sitting down beside him. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped his arms around your waist and resting all of his weight onto you. 

"I feel much better already," he mumbled, a dazed smile on his face. As long as he had you, it didn't matter how sick he was or how ill he felt, he would be happy. "I'm glad you do," you smiled, spotting the undrunk mug of now cold tea still sat on the coffee table. You should have known he wouldn't drink it. 

"I'm going to go and serve dinner, and I will be back in no more than two minutes," you said, trying to shimmy out of his grasp as it tightened around your body. "I'll be counting, and if you're not back in two minutes, I'm coming to get you," he said, and you knew he was serious. 

Well, he was trying to be serious. His reddened cheeks and nose and nasally voice made it hard for you to take him properly seriously. "OK," you smiled, ladling the soup into bowls and bringing it to Charles.

"You were on 115 seconds, so you got away with that one by the skin of your teeth," he grinned, taking the bowl from you. "This is amazing, thank you," he smiled, spooning small mouthfuls of the liquid into his mouth. 

"No problem, my love," you said, sitting down. Charles nestled himself into your side again, still sipping away at your soup. When you were both done, you tried to take his bowl to go and wash it up. "Can you do that tomorrow?I just want you with me," he asked, looking up at you with those glassy green eyes that you could never say no to.

"OK, I can do that," you agreed, putting the bowls down on the coffee table and sitting back beside him. Just like clockwork, Charles slotted himself into your side again, and you lightly trailed your fingers up and down his back. 

"I really want to kiss you, but I don't want you to get sick," he groaned, tiredly pouting at you. "You can get me sick if you're going to take care of me," you softly chuckled, moving your hands up to his hair, tangling your fingers into the chocolate strands. 

"I'll always take care of you, no questions asked," he said as if it were an obvious thing. "But, I don't want my baby feeling like this, so I'll restrain myself," he explained as if it were the hardest task that man could ever complete.

"Well aren't you just a hero," you teased and the both of you giggled. 

"I am refraining from kissing the love of my life so that she doesn't have to endure the pain I am in. I am a hero," he laughed, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"You are a hero darling, you are," you reassured, kissing the top of his head. 

"I know," he chuckled, closing his eyes. Having a cold really took it out of him, and he had been following you around your house like a lost puppy all day.  

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a completely blocked nose. Charles, on the other hand, was energized and fit as a fiddle. "You've given me your cold," you grumbled, sitting up in bed as he looked fresh faced. 

"So you're telling me I could have kissed you that whole time since you were going to get sick anyway?" he asked, sounding nearly annoyed.

"I guess so," you laughed. Charles never failed to make you smile, no matter how ill you may have felt. Without another word, Charles moves closer to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. He gently pulled your face towards him, you lips connecting in the middle. 

"You're going to get sick again," you pouted, wiping your nose with your sleeve as you pulled away from the kiss. "I really don't give a shit," he dismissed, pulling you back in, revelling in the feeling of getting to kiss you again. 

He didn't care that he was definitely going to get sick again, and getting to kiss you was completely worth it. 

A/N - First off, I absolutely adore this one, and I don't tend to like the things that I write, so this is a nice, refreshing change. Also, I won't be posting tomorrow, Friday or Saturday since I'm away, but there is a poll you can vote on for me here. Requests are open, and I love you lots 💖

|masterist|

[husbandhoshi]

[9:17 PM]

"no." you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. "nononono."

you thought the worst thing that could happen already happened—you discovered your favorite noodle place wasn't open today, and you were forced to make your peace with that. (albeit with tears. and utter devastation.)

turns out that didn't even scratch the surface of terrible, no good things that could happen today, because now, your roommate junhui is at the front door and he's the absolute last person you want to see today.

on any other day, this would be fine. good, even.

when you first moved in with junhui, you never expected to become good friends. really, you were just happy to have a place to sleep—at first, he was just some guy, and the fact that he was a medical student was a cool bonus.

that is, until you sprained your ankle going down the stairs four months ago. he wrapped it on the futon in the living room and then proceeded to keep you company for the rest of the night while you wrestled with an ice pack. it was then when you learned what it felt like to fall in love, hopelessly and instantly.

you hear him jiggle the door handle again. he likely forgot his keys, and you would let him in until you consider the fact that you look no better than a mole rat at the moment. you woke up this morning with a fever and a wicked headache, and neither of those have gotten better since then. you don't even think you've left your room yet today.

"please don't tell me you're taking a nap," he whines, muffled by the door. "i got pizza."

fuck.

you peel yourself out of bed and catch a glimpse of yourself in your vanity. not good. if you had a choice, you would want to greet him in something other than your two-day pajamas. unfortunately, your only option at the moment is slapping on some lip gloss and calling it a day, and it's now that you begin contemplating the absolute death of a possibility of having a shot with junhui. hot guys like him don't date mole rats, even if they're wearing lip gloss.

finally you reach the front door, resigned to your fate. maybe you really should get back on the apps, as much as you hate to say it.

"sorry," you say as you let junhui in. "i was in bed."

he's in his scrubs, stethoscope round his neck. he must have had a long day today, but he still smiles at you with as much warmth as always. it makes your heart actually hurt, as if you aren't feeling sick enough.

"i figured— 's ok. it's pizza time," he chants. "you eat yet?"

you hide your face as you grab him a plate. the answer is no (soup or bust was your earlier conclusion), but you don't want to risk getting him sick, especially after he spent a whole day in the hospital. it's then when you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

"hey, you good?" you're met with junhui's eyes, now squinty as he looks you over. "are you sick, or are you just happy to see me? 'cause you look warm."

"um." you swallow hard, feeling bare. if you knew you would be this close to his face, you would have at least run a comb through your hair. "i might have a teeny, tiny little temperature. maybe."

that's all you need to say. he immediately brings the back of his hand to your forehead, and if you weren't already doomed, you sure are now.

"maybe a little more than tiny, huh?" he chuckles. "let me get you some meds."

you like how he doesn't scold you for not telling him sooner or guilt you for causing trouble after work. you watch him rifle through the cabinets, muttering to himself about this and that, and you start to feel a little silly about worrying what he thought of you.

"take these," he says, putting a couple of pills in your palm before opening a water bottle for you. "and follow my finger."

you watch him draw a square with his pointer finger before he brings it in between your eyes so they cross.

"i-is everything ok?" you squeak.

"yeah," he laughs. "it's just cute when you do that."

cute?! you thank god he wasn't using that stethoscope on you, because he definitely would have diagnosed you with something right on the spot. instead, you take your meds, grateful that he didn't ask whether or not you had more than a tablespoon of water today (spoiler alert—you didn't).

you're still mentally scrambling to decode what he could possibly be talking about when he bends down to meet your eyes.

"you're lucky. it's not terminal." you try to fight the corners of your mouth from turning up at his incredibly lame joke, but it doesn't work—instead, you smile, and you watch him smile back. "but you should get some rest. i need you alive this weekend."

"w-why?"

you feel your stomach drop to your knees, even though that's anatomically impossible, and you're not sure what a heart attack really is, but you think you just had one.

he needs to stop looking at you like that, or you will do some damage.

"you wanted to go to that new restaurant down the street, right? i have the day off."

"you mean, like a d—"

"like a date." he hands you your water bottle. "i'm asking you on a date. now get some rest, okay?"

you feel like a walking skeleton as he turns you around to face the door to your room. you want to fall to your knees and jump for joy all at once, but you plan to save that for when your bedroom door is shut tight behind you. if the bedhead wasn't enough, acting like even more of a fool in front of him would definitely scare him off.

"i like the lip gloss, by the way," he hollers after you. "nice touch."

you turn back to glare at him, because now he's just bullying you. you wonder how long he knew about your little problem, which would be humiliating if you weren't so down bad.

"what? you love me."

but he's right. you do, you really do. and you guess he just might love you back too.

[rogueddie]

Peppermint Heartache T | 734 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick

Eddie isn't sure the last time he was sick, but he's sure that it didn't feel like this.

"You sure you're ok, kid?" Wayne asks, hovering in his doorway.

"Yeah, 'm'kay," Eddie manages to mumble out. He struggles to raise an arm, giving him a weak thumbs up.

"Alright," Wayne relents, but Eddie can hear how little his attempt has done to reassure him. "I'll try to get home as early as I can. Make you some nice soup. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

After he hears the door click shut behind Wayne, he's not sure how much time passes. He stays where he is, slipping in and out of a light doze.

The light knocking at the door startles him awake, though it's soft and quiet enough that it doesn't pound in his head.

He plans on ignoring them, but they knock again after waiting for a moment.

Pulling his bed sheets around him, tucking it up to his chin, he shuffles out. He squints at the light when he cracks the door open, frowning.

"Steve?"

"Hi Ed," he says, speaking softly. He raises the tupperware he's holding. "Heard you weren't feeling well so I made you some broth."

"Wayne sent you?" Eddie asks, stepping back so Steve can come inside.

"Yeah. He's really worried about you." Steve pauses, stepping closer and pressing his hand to Eddies forehead. "Do you have any, like, medicine? Some tylenol? You're too warm."

He tries to explain where it is, but he's interrupted by a yawn. He's not sure that Steve understands him for a moment, until he's being gently herded to the bathroom.

Steve quickly closes the toilet lid so Eddie can sit, before rooting through the bathroom cabinet.

"Aha!" He says, pulling out a bottle. He shakes it, frowning when only one tablet rattles inside it. "Damn. I'll need to grab you another bottle. Hopefully this one will be enough. Should I grab you a glass of-"

"No, it's fine," Eddie mutters, grabbing the tablet and swallowing it dry.

"Gross. Anyway, how are you feeling? Do you want some food now? Or, like, Wayne said you have chicken soup if you'd prefer that- I just... broth always makes me feel better when I'm sick. Or I could-"

"Steve. All I want to do is lay back down for a while. Maybe have some company, if you're not busy. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Steve sighs, smiling sheepishly. "Should we-"

Eddie is already up, shuffling back to his bed. He flops onto it, curling onto his side. He grumbles when Steve starts to tuck in the sheets, but makes no move to stop him.

He ends up completely cocooned, the only his face sticking out.

Steve sits on the floor, back to the wall. "Do you want me to be quiet?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Love the Buckley style rambling but, um... I don't know. I don't like being alone when I feel like this."

"No, I get that. I'm happy to sit here and make sure you're ok, don't worry. I'm comfortable."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

With Steve sitting guard, it's easy to finally fall asleep. And, by the time he wakes back up, he's already starting to feel better. He feels well rested, at least.

He notices Steves absence immediately, finally crawling out his cocoon to go looking for him.

"What are you doing up?" Steve asks, when Eddie finally finds him in the kitchen. "Go, I'll be back in a moment, you need to rest."

Eddie, rolling his eyes, does what he asks. Though he does grumble complaints under his breath the whole way back.

"You couldn't wait five minutes," Steve continues, when he finally comes back to Eddies room, holding a steaming mug and bowl. "Here, I cooked your broth and made you some tea."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Wayne says hi, by the way. He's probably going to be late coming home, too, so I'm stuck here babysitting."

Eddies about to make a comment, when he finally gets a whiff of the tea. He takes a sip to confirm it.

"Is this peppermint?"

"Yeah. You said you like it."

"I didn't think you'd remember."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You can't keep doing this, Steve, I'll fall in love with you."

Steve laughs, ducking his head, cheeks flushing. When he looks up, smirking, a glint in his eyes, Eddie knows he's already doomed.

"Promise?"

[sugdenlovesdingle]

imagine ranger Soup overhearing Carlos talking to TK on the phone one day, and Carlos is all "I'm sorry baby, this case is taking longer than we thought, I'm not going to make it home." *pause,listening* "Yeah, i love you too. I'll make it up to you, i promise." *pause, listening* *laughs a little* "Yeah and Lou too. I'll make it up to you both."

and ranger Soup assumes he's talking about his kid and he makes these "kids amirite?" comments when they're working on cases, and Carlos is just "sure. i wouldn't know, but sure" - which confuses ranger soup because he clearly heard Carlos mention a Lou, and he's married because he wears a wedding ring.

And he starts coming up with these insane theories that Carlos' wife has a kid called Lou that is not his, or that he's having an affair with someone with a kid called Lou - "But why would he be so close to his mistress' kid???"

And eventually Carlos tells him he's gay and married to the best paramedic in Texas (because why stop at Austin - surely TK's talents have a wider reach than that) and maybe invites him over for dinner sometime

(TK: are we having soup for dinner then? Carlos: 🙄😍)

And it's a nice evening, dinner is nice, TK keeps the soup puns to a minimum, but there's no sign of a kid. No toys, no kid sized clothes or shoes - nothing. And he's really curious but also doesn't want to intrude or maybe bring up something painful, so he says nothing and waits for Carlos or TK to explain. But they don't.

Until TK gets up after dinner and says he has to feed Lou.

And ranger soup is all 👀 Lou you say??? but gets even more confused when TK takes this little bowl of cut up veggies from the fridge... and walks over to this big terrarium... and takes out a lizard and sits down on the sofa with it.

"I know you don't want veggies Lou, but your dad forgot to buy mealworms last time we were at the store. And you had a cricket yesterday."

and Carlos just watches them like 😍 (he's grown to love his lizard son ok) and ranger soup is all "THAT is Lou??"

TK: Yes. Louis the second. Lou for short. Lou the lizard. Though he's technically a bearded dragon. It was Carlos' present for me when we got engaged. 😍

And ranger soup goes home that night and tells his family about his night and his weird ass new coworker and his husband.