#run-for-funner

[natandacat]

Anyone else thinking about a late 70s/80s era where a severely relapsing louis seeks out a daniel whose addiction has just gotten worse post-interview, featuring the worst bender in vampire and human recent history intermingled with a truly toxic and codependent romance... and of course who's there, with mop and mindlessness, to clean it up... by erasing their memories once again...

[alvinmichaelmurphyseville]

"I am baaack and ready to rock Winter Break next week!"

"But first, I wanna RUN outside in the cold until I am ready for hot cocoa!"

"BRING ON THE HOLIDAY FUUUN!!!!"

[bungeepuppet]

i can't believe hisokas apparent drink of choice is scotch on the rocks and not some fruity galaxy glitter cocktail🍸

[pinemartenstudios]

Chapter 5, aka THE FINALE, is out! If you have read the story til the end I hope you liked it ^^

[saeraas]

UMISHO WHY DIDNT YOU SWITCH TO HC

[kaesaaurelia]

Hey, just a quick PSA to any of my followers who is maybe gonna get hit with extreme cold this weekend and has never personally done the whole polar vortex extreme cold thing before: last time this happened in Chicago we had -40 F windchill and my fire exit door froze shut. I managed to get it open with a hairdryer, which I lived without for many years and only have for craft projects because it's not very effective on my hair. Sooo If you don't have a hairdryer (or something else that can focus heat on a door lock) you might want to get one so you can defrost a lock if necessary.

(I mean also maybe don't go outside if you don't have to, but feeling trapped is scary, and also you might wanna do that thing where you throw a cup of water in the air and it turns into snow.)

[hobisexually]

x

[sarayashikidays]

I TRULEY wish the anime didn't fuck my brain up when I watch more than one episode and cover my face when I know an attack animation is coming up, I want to see Kurama change his outfits that much so I can think of how and why

[satanicspinosaurus]

I don't think I've ever seen a better argument for "Hey, why did Gale think he had a chance?"

Aldiirn showing up to all those long rest events dressed like this

[avis-writeshq]

hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where reader gets drunk and needy for spencer 😭 but he denies (cuz yk shes drunk) and just takes care of him please? thank you!

off my face — spencer reid

summary: “i’m off my face in love with you.” in which reader gets drunk and spencer has to nurse her back to health. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: rated 16+ for allusions to smut, reader gets drunk, reader wears lipstick and a dress, mentions of throwing up [not in detail], spencer being sickeningly perfect, lots of pet names, inspired by that one video of matthew. you know which one i’m talking about. a/n: i er… got carried away because i love this trope 😔 i am in fact obsessed wc: 1.23k

It’s too loud. Granted, it’s a club; it’s supposed to be loud. Spencer cringes a little as the music somehow manages to get even louder and he sips at his coke. He has your purse in his lap and he’s also manning your drink like a guard dog; moving himself to the furthest seat in the booth that is away from the crowd. Your inevitable return is a lot sooner than he expected, and he watches with amusement as you slide into the booth and curl into his side, reaching for your drink. 

“Have fun?” Spencer asks with a soft laugh, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of you head. 

“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, eagerly sipping at the sugary concoction in front of you. “Would’ve been funner with you, baby.”

He laughs louder at that, rolling his eyes teasingly and squeezing at the flesh of your waist. “You know it wouldn’t have been.”

“Bet you’d be real sexy with all that sweat dripping off you,” you coo, your voice sickeningly sweet as your fingers move to toy with the buttons of his shirt. 

Your fingers are wet with the condensation from the chilled glass of your cocktail and they brush against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. A shudder runs down his spine at the contact, and his cheeks grow hot. His hand finds your wrist and he holds it firmly, but not enough to hurt. 

“Don’t,” he says, half jokingly half seriously as he moves his head to track your gaze. “How much have you had to drink, angel?”

You ignore the question, moving your fingers upward to brush against a blooming purple mark near his collar. A pout rests on your lips as you gesture to it, a frown forming on your face. “Who gave this to you?”

He bristles, moving the flap of his collar to cover the bruise. “You did. This morning.”

“Oh yeah!” The smile returns to your face awfully fast and a giggle bubbles up from your throat. “You love me.”

“I do,” he agrees, kissing your head again. 

Your expression is all too gleeful as you move your head just at the right time so that he lips would meet yours. He pulls away after a brief moment, about to say something else, when you effectively cut him off by pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“Angel– sweetheart, you’re very drunk,” he says gently, prying your needy fingers away and holding them firmly in his hand. 

“Nuh uh,” you deny, leaning forward again and kissing his neck right where you left a mark earlier that morning. 

He jolts at the contact, pulling away as pink rises to his cheeks. “We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, honey.”

You blatantly ignore him, maneuvering yourself so that you’s practically half on his lap with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He doesn’t mind the attention, per se. He just feels incredibly guilty about enjoying it when you’re loopy from all the cocktails you have had. You’re pressing kisses against his cheeks while your hands play with the collar of his shirt, tugging at the purple tie you chose earlier that day and there are lipstick stains all over his skin. He’s well aware of it; bright red with a sticky residue and he will forever not understand how you can wear it all the time. 

His tie has come undone entirely and you pull at his shirt to kiss dangerously close to his collarbone. 

“Okay–” he’s flushing scarlet and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of anyone in the team. “Okay, baby, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”

“Ooh,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows with insinuation.

“You need sleep.” He says it sternly, although you don’t seem to grasp the concept. 

“What kind of sleep?” You ask, winking. 

He shakes his head, amused and exasperated, as he rebuttons his shirt and reties his tie. “The REM kind. Come on, angel. Say good night to your friends.”

You giggle tiredly, waving goodbye to your friends. Penelope looks absolutely hammered, wiggling her eyebrows at you with an expression full of insinuation. Emily is smirking in your direction, swirling her martini around before taking a sip. JJ looks equally elated, snickering softly as she holds onto Will’s arm. 

Spencer ushers you gently into his car, leaning over the console to open the glove box on your side and brandishing a packet of micellar water wipes. He takes out two for himself before passing the rest of them to you.

“For your makeup,” he explains, wiping the lipstick marks off his cheeks. “I’ll help you with your skincare when we get home, alright?”

You’re in love. It isn’t long before he’s helping you up the stairs of his apartment and sitting you gently on the couch. Your eyes are droopy and it seems like the sugar high from your cocktails is wearing off. Spencer runs his fingers through your hair gently while he holds a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink. You only do it to appease him and once he’s satisfied with your water intake, he’s reaching for the zip of your dress.

“Someone’s needy,” you coo, giggling as he pulls it down to just below your ribcage. “Gonna rough me up?”

“No.” He answers it swiftly, and had you been sober your heart would have split in two. He continues, “I’m going to put you in something more comfortable and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Boring.”

“No, it’s not– it’s not boring,” he flounders, his cheeks growing hotter at your words. He can’t believe he’s arguing with a drunk person. “It’s not boring, baby, it’s safe. Alcohol is a neuro inhibitor. There’s a reason why you can’t drink and drive and it’s because the brain’s neural activity patterns are suppressed or blocked. That’s also the reason why you can’t ask a drunk person for consent; they don’t know or understand what’s going on around them.”

You’ve half fallen asleep at his explanation, the sleeves of your dress falling down your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. “So we’re not going to be partaking in passionate steamy love making?”

“No, we’re not,” he confirms, pulling your favourite pair of cotton pyjamas over your head. It’s a pale pink set with little bows prints all over it and a lacy collar. “Lift your hips for me, angel, I need to get the shorts on you.”

You comply, kicking the dress off into some forbidden corner of the room and Spencer takes this chance to slip the matching shorts onto your legs and up your thighs. The rest of the night is smooth sailing from there– he has successfully applied your skincare in such a way that you would be singing his praises. He has also managed to get you to drink another cup of water, and even though you’re going to wake up complaining about the fact you need to pee. He’d rather you complain about that instead of some raging headache. 

Spencer climbs under the covers next to you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your shoulder. A soft snore leaves your lips and he can’t help but chuckle. Passed out, as expected. 

“Good night, angel,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you tight. “See you in the morning.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

event page

[drdemonprince]

I think think about your piece How to Go Places Alone And Not Feel Like A Freak Looser (or something to that affect) quite often.

While it is uncomfortable, tiring, nerve wracking, to feel like or be the odd one out, I am at least used to the feeling. It takes nerve but (especially as a kid/teen) have always gone to things alone and, once I get over myself, enjoy not caring what anyone thinks about my presence.

As an (ever transsexualizing >:) adult, I am getting back into doing & dressing however I want in public (embarrassing yourself is inevitable, might as well enjoy life!). This is a funner, freer, outlook, but I hoped being more myself would help me find my people.

I’m used to the awful feeling of being an alien freak looser (real or imagined) so I can hype myself up to be in my own world when I’m out. But I wonder if doing this, and choosing events based on interest instead of demographics or friendship, reinforces my felling of disconnect with people. It’s easier to accept, and dress like, I’ll always stick out (be alone) than it is to imagine mimicking those around me.

I went to an explicitly cruisey new years night and instead of studying the crowd intensely trying to fit in, wore my shiny platforms, smiled at people, and danced just for the fun of it. Feeling good about myself and enjoying my experience requires an ‘eh fuck ‘em’ attitude. I can enjoy being in public seeing all my fellow earthlings but it does not feel social. And I realize, my time there felt anything but sexy. I wasn’t about to walz into the darkroom (let’s walk before we run), but I hate that I couldn’t feel comfortable in this place I’ve always wanted to be.

I return to the same questions everywhere I go: I can exist, but how am I supposed to learn the codes of a space when I can’t study (ruminate) from afar?

How could I ever be social when (even joyous and embodied) I can’t get out of my own head?

How do you know when it’s time to listen to your gut and when to play into a social game?

I understand what you mean about the duality between doing your own thing in your own little alien bubble and actively placing effort into connecting with the people around you (which often feels like it requires masking).

But, from my perspective, both of those are strategies for dealing with social overwhelm -- one is more dissociative, and the other's more compensatory. Both of them reflect a discomfort with the people in the space. And they're both perfectly reasonable ways to deal with such feelings! But the way to move forward, at least in my experience, is to continue attending events until you attain enough familiarity with them that you actually start feeling more comfortable.

You said you didn't feel sexy at this cruisy party, and certainly weren't ready to venture into the dark room. That's fine! You can work your way up in whatever order of activities is least intimidating to most intimidating to you.

The first few times that I go to a club, I need anywhere from a few minutes to an hour to get warmed up enough to really dance on the floor and take up a ton of space and make weird gestures. I spend a lot of time lurking in the corner or reading a book at the bar at first. After I've been there a number of times, I know the deal of the space better, recognize a few people, maybe have developed a rapport with the door guy or a regular, and it gets easier to branch out and feel more at ease in my skin. People intuit this and approach me more often when I'm feeling more comfortable, and my reactions have fewer exit ramps built into them (one of my protective instincts is to throw out a lot of conversation-enders that make people feel rejected, lmaoo good one me).

The same general principles I've described here can apply to any new social challenge, including a bar with a backroom where people are fucking. Show up again. Do your thing. Maybe find a spot to post up and observe, since you mentioned an interest in doing that. Bring a book or some knitting if you want, and wear whatever outfit helps you feel comfortable and good with yourself. The first few times you do all this, people may get strong "I'm Doing My Own Thing Leave Me Alone" vibes from you, as they often do from Autistics, and that's fine. You're still learning and acclimating from being there. After a couple of tries, head into that back room. It's not as exciting as you think it's gonna be. You might get to watch some fucking or you might just see a bunch of guys pacing around who are just as awkward as you feel that you are. But then you'll know what it's like. And then you just keep showing up, and observing and participating in small ways (watching is participation in a sex club!), and you'll get steadily more involved in the space and connected to the people each time that you do.

I've been going to pet patrol nights for a long time and I've only just now gotten to the point where I can chat up random people and get into hookups relatively easily, instead of just standing around mutely hoping someone will approach me. Bringing friends has helped a ton to relax me and make me seem more approachable to others, too, so you could try that!

for anyone wondering here's the full piece

[pukefactory]

.·:*CLOUDBERRY JAM*:·.

⊹ Summary: A compilation of headcannons featuring N as your caregiver

⊹ Character(s): Serial Designation N (Murder Drones)

⊹ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⊹ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

˗ˏˋ He was initially confused when you first told him about your regressing, but after explaining it to him he was absolutely ready to take care of you. You may have been his friend prior to this but now you’re his little friend!

˗ˏˋ N likes to be your big brother when you regress. You call him that and he immediately knows you’re in little space; right there to play with you! He doesn’t seem to mind many of the nicknames you give him but big brother is his ultimate favourite. As for what he calls you, well, you’re little buddy of course! He may also call you ‘budster’ sometimes.

˗ˏˋ N totally adores colouring and doodling with you. He always has paper, a set of crayons and a colouring book on hand just in case you wanna do some artsy things. If you draw anything for him at all he’ll be so happy, overjoyed even! He loves your drawings so much that he hangs them up in Uzi’s room just so he can see them everyday.

˗ˏˋ He claps and praises you with genuine enthusiasm whenever you finish something. Finally finished that big colouring page? He claps with joy. You give him a drawing of a doggy? He showers you and your drawing with so many compliments you almost drown in it.

˗ˏˋ Expect to be carried around a lot even when you don’t ask for it. You basically weigh nothing to N and if he can carry you from point A to point B he will do so. This is mainly for safety purposes but he also doesn’t want you to tire yourself out on big journeys. You’re practically glued to his shoulders a majority of the time. He just likes holding you close to him, really.

˗ˏˋ When you least anticipate it, N will run up behind you, lift you up and play airplane with you! He’ll hold you up in the air and make sputtering plane noises as he jogs around. He can keep at it for a while too, so you’re not being put down unless you request it. He also loves to spin you around in his arms.

˗ˏˋ If you’re in any kind of emotional distress he is right there by your side. He’ll cuddle you, rock you back and forth and whisper affirmations until you feel a little less icky. When you’re ready, he’ll go retrieve a cute blanket, wrap it around you and keep comforting you. N doesn’t mind if you fall asleep on him, in fact that means you’ve calmed down enough to rest. He’s delighted that he’s able to help you so much.

˗ˏˋ N is way too much of a softy to even be slightly assertive with you. You’re just his little budster, after all! Whatever you do wrong can’t possibly be that bad. However, if you’re being very bratty, Uzi will be the one to put you in time out as well as scold you. Flash N your best puppy eyes though and he’ll swiftly pull you off that step; he can’t stay mad at his buddy!

˗ˏˋ He is the best when it comes to playtime. He’s extremely hands on, doesn’t mind getting dirty with paint, dirt, mud, it doesn’t matter to him. He loves doing anything and everything with you, so if you wanna make a pie that is entirely constructed from soil you, best believe he’s on board with that. More traditional playtimes are fine with him as well but he’s more interested in your stranger versions of amusement, it’s funner!

˗ˏˋ It’s not unusual for him to fall asleep with you after putting you down for a nap. He tucks you in all nice and snug in a fluffy doggy blanket, cuddles you till you fall asleep before accidentally falling asleep himself - he can’t help it! He was scared that you would be mad at him the first couple of times it happened, yet you felt anything but anger. Now it’s a common occurrence to snooze with big brother N; nap time is a lot more comfortable because of it.

[zombiesturniolo]

Ink

part 1

Chris Sturniolo x Female Reader series

Tattoo Artist!Chris Sturniolo x Tattoo Artist!Fem!Reader

Warnings !! : Fingering, p in v, praising, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), drinking, i dont really know what else so lmk if i missed something

Summary : You and Chris had been working together as tattoo artists for quite some time now, probably about 2 years. You've always had a little bit of feelings for him in the back of your head, but you've convinced yourself that the feelings aren't real. Though, you can't help but feel jealous as Chris always flirts with every single one of his clients.

Authors note : Sorry for not posting 😭 anyways, if anyone likes this then ill probably write another part !! enjoy :3

You currently sat in your room, bored out of your mind. You scroll on your phone, trying to find something to do. Your attention is caught as you see a new text message from Chris appear at the top of your screen. "Hey, I'm about to head out to a party. You wanna come?" It reads. Chris would often invite you to come with him to parties, though you rarely said yes due to being busy. However, right now, you had nothing to do.

You smiled as you sent him a text agreeing to go with him. You sat up, walking to your closet and picking out an outfit. You tried your best to get ready quickly, swiftly applying your make up. Once you're finished, you take one last look at yourself in the mirror before heading out.

You arrive at the party, walking in, looking around for Chris. You eventually find him, in the kitchen, a red plastic cup sat in his hands. His eyes light up a little as he sees you, "Hey loser." He says, smiling slightly. You roll your eyes at him playfully before responding. "Hey dummy. Are you having fun?" You ask him, pouring yourself a drink. You stand next to him, taking a sip of your drink. Chris shrugs dully, "Yeah, I guess. The party's alright. Kinda boring, maybe it'll be funner now that you're here." Chris takes a sip of his drink, looking at you, smiling. "Maybe," You mumble in a quiet tone, looking at him.

You and Chris just talked for a bit, you guys seated on a couch in the living room. You're rambling about whatever, that's when you feel Chris shift his hand to your thigh. You slightly freeze, shutting up quickly. You don't know if he did that on accident, or on purpose. Either way, you could feel yourself growing more flushed. You stare at Chris, having nothing more to say.

You watch as his other hand moves to your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek softly. "You know, I've always though that you were so pretty." He states in a gentle but flirty tone. You only feel the blush on your face spread. "R..really?" You mumble out in a slightly stunned tone. He nods a little, before pulling your face closer to his.

You and Chris' lips meet, your hand moving to his jaw as he kisses you. The kiss grows more passionate over time, and one thing leads to another. Now you're in a random bedroom with him, on the bed, with him on top of you. He kisses down your neck, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. Chris looks up at you for approval, in which you nod back. He takes your shirt off, admiring your body for a minute, before going back to kissing your neck.

Your hand runs through his messy hair, you let out a low groan. He kisses back up to your lips, before pulling away again to take his own shirt off. You grab at his belt desperately, which causes him to pull away, looking into your pleading eyes. "You're really that desperate for me, huh?" He says in a teasing tone, before pulling off his belt.

You take off your own pair of jeans you had on, watching as he takes off his own. He gets back on top of you, kissing your neck again. He pulls your underwear to the side, pulling away from your neck and watching you as he starts to rub light circles on your clit. He smirks as he feels how wet you are. He hears you whimper, applying more pressure to his touch. He slips a finger into you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. After a bit, he slips another finger into your entrance. "There you go, princess. Gotta get you ready for me." He says, still smirking as he listens to your whimpers.

You let out a whine as he removes his fingers from your core, watching as he gets up and takes his boxers off. You swallow, his tip leaking with precum. He gets back on top of you, placing a light kiss on your lips. He slowly pushes himself into you, letting out a low whimper at the feeling. He strokes your cheek gently as he steadily moves his length into you. "It's okay, sweetheart..." He whispers in a soft tone.

Chris gently kissing your neck once it's fully in, "There you go... good girl..." He groans, continuing to kiss your neck as he thrusts slowly. You let out a moan, in which he places a warm hand over your mouth. "Shh baby... there's a lot of people here..." He whispers to you, causing you a nod and whimper against his hand.

His thrusts grow faster as he continues, trying to keep his own moans down as well. It's not long until you feel yourself grow closer to finishing. Chris feels your walls tighten against him, sensing that your close. He picks his pace up, trying to get you closer to releasing. You let out a loud moan against his hand as you feel the knot in your stomach break. He doesn't finish much longer after you do, burying his head in your neck to muffle his whimpers. He pulls out of you, before laying down next to you. "I've wanted to do that for so long, princess." He says in a breathless tone, watching as you let out heavy breaths.

[strangersteddierthings]

I'm just imagining Steve becoming the gang's babysitter when they were younger (like around 6-7). Eddie pops round Steve's to pick him up for a date and the door opens to Steve with a kid on every limb. Dustin's on his shoulders clinging to his hair, Will's clinging to one leg with Mike on the other. Lucas and Max are both tugging on one arm whilst he's carrying El in the other. He's just like: 'the back-up babysitter is late and there was no one else to watch them' and Eddie just goes 'Marry Me'

Anon, ur mind. Imagine. The kids are aged down, obvi, older teens keeping their ages.

It's like their third ever date and Eddie still gets nervous thinking about the date and always over thinks what to wear and triple checks his hair even though it never looks different. And this time he's a bit more nervous because Steve had called an hour ago. Assured him the date's still on, Eddie just needs to pick him up at a different address.

So, Eddie finds himself a little confused when he parks the van in front of the Byers house. He hadn't recognized the address as such when he quickly scribbled it onto his arm but he's been here a handful of times before.

Steve's not waiting outside, so Eddie kills the engine and wonders up to the door. He lifts his hand to knock and realizes he can hear the sound of children scream-laughing. He knocks a little more harshly than he would have, to ensure he's heard.

"Who is it!?" Steve's voice yells out, muffled.

"Eddie!" Eddie shouts back.

"OH! Open the door, it's not locked!"

Eddie shrugs and lets himself into the Byers' household. The sight that greets him freezes him in place. Steve is twenty or so feet away from the door, one leg raised in mid-step, small hands clinging to his ankle as Steve just drags the kid with. Eddie recognizes Baby Byers in the process of being dragged, Baby Wheeler on the other leg. Steve's half slouched to accommodate Dustin on his shoulders, folded awkwardly in half to have both his little arms wrapped around Steve's forehead like some weird headband. He's hold a little girl that Eddie's never seen in his life with one arm, while two other kids he doesn't know have a death grip on Steve's other arm. All together it looks like every kid is trying to stop Steve from moving anywhere.

"Eddie!" Dustin shouts when he looks up and sees who entered the house. Dustin's the only kid he really knows beyond Wheeler and Byers because getting to know Steve meant getting to know the kid that was like his little brother. (Eddie doesn't know how that relationship even happened, but he'll find out one day.)

"Alright you little rugrats," Steve is laughing too hard to sound stern, "get off! I'm going to trip!"

And immediate chorus of protests arise. Eddie catches snippets of 'please don't go' and 'you're the funner sitter' and other things that boil down to, these kids do not want to be watched by anyone other than Steve.

"Sorry, Eddie," Steve shoots him a very apologetic look, just talking over the choir that surrounds him. "Jonathan's going to be watching the rest of their playdate but he's running late. I've watched you gremlins all morning, it's Jonathan's turn."

The kids start whining and pouting and Dustin clings to his forehead with even more force and just- Eddie's a goner. He and Steve have only gone on two dates, have only been on a first name basis for a month and a half. In fact, three months ago Eddie was convinced they had a mutual hate thing going on (not hate, turns out, mutual unrequited-but-actually-requited crush).

There's so much about Steve he doesn't know, and that Steve doesn't know about him. Favorite color, allergies, movie preferences, the little things that add up to the sum total of their personalities and what make them the people they are. But Eddie knows the important things. Steve's unshakeable determination, unwaveringly loyalty, devotion to those he cares about.

So, Eddie blames that fact Steve looks ever bit the domestic, doting father/older brother figure when he opens his mouth to suggest postponing their date so as to not disappoint the kids, and what he says is, "Marry me."

Steve's eyes go wide and freezes. The kids keep swinging off him and trying to tug him around and climb him, so he's swaying around but Eddie can see that Steve's brain has checked out for a moment. Eddie's face burns hot and he knows he's blushing all the way to his toes, Jesus, it's awfully hot in this house.

"I-uh, I didn't mean to say that yet."

Steve blinks a few times, coming back to himself, and then he smiles so brightly at Eddie that all his anxiety over his grievous faux pas slide away.

"Your van's big enough to fit all these creatures into the back, yeah? How about you help me take 'em to the park and we can discuss marriage at a later date."

They leave a note, so Jonathan doesn't panic upon finding an empty house and Eddie all but floats to the car.

Their third date might have turned into an adventure in babysitting for a whole day but that's fine, because it ends with the promise of a fourth, and a sly 'ask me to marry you in a couple of years' said with a smirk when he drops Steve off.

[godhandler]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#2 - The Ring Ceremony

[noritoshi kamo, 12 is engaged to his bride, 7. gojo satoru says hi.]

tw: forced marriage, child marriage (yes I'll age my characters up, let's have the angst for now), angst, Zenin clan being Zenin clan, noritoshi x reader, no use of 'y/n', fluff a bit, no smut.

#1 - Omiai #3 - Menarche

Growth happens sporadically. For example, you had not grown much in the first eight years of your life. Not much reason to, really. Your cursed technique became clear surprisingly early, at about 3 years of age, and since then you had lived the proper Zenin life. One of abundance, joy and familial love. If you said you wanted that cake, or that flower, or this or that, you had it in your hand immediately. Your father even talked about you being the clan head someday, impossible as it sounded to you. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t know anything about the flip side of it. Your dearest cousins Maki and Mai weren’t as special as you, you noticed. Nor was your mother as important as your father, in fact no aunty or grandma were as important as their husbands. But you were special. Surely you were.

There had been talks about your powers recently, before the Kamos visited you. Your family, the whole horde of them, would test you. It wasn’t very difficult. Curses would be brought out and you would have to use Distillation to choose the best cursed weapon to kill them. You would be shown a missing person report, you had to figure out where the person was. A funner game was the Maze Game, where Grandpa Naobito would leave you in a maze, or labyrinth, or anywhere you didn’t really know, and you would have to find your way out. Compared to school, this was actually more exciting to do. Especially the praise you would get afterwards from everyone. The prodigy of the family. The princess of the castle. 

You, idiot child you were, never really wondered how your family would react if you had happened to fail the tests. You never failed. You never disappointed. 

So it was quite sobering to be sitting in the Pit of Punishment after your attempt to run away. A failed attempt. You were disappointing both yourself and the Zenin clan. 

Naoya Zenin was lounging near the door, not actually letting the curses eat you – just enough to scare you. It was working. You were fucking terrified really, but somehow your cousin being there allowed you to not piss your pants. Naoya was a kind man. 

Mai. Mai come save me. Please. Nii-chan, please come, I can't move. Maki, mother, father, grandpa, please help me. someone, please, help me out.

“Really, little Zenin- oh, should I call you Kamo now?” He laughed. “Is this any way for a lady to behave?”

I’m 8, idiot. What lady are you talking about? 

Was it the ten minutes you spent in the pit, or the past two months of lady-training (as you called it), that made you grow up so fast? Somehow, after your marriage was fixed, handling tea-sets and cooking tamagoyaki became insanely important. But the worst was the lessons on womanly etiquette, on the ways of wifely manners, behaviours and duties. Unlike you, Maki and Mai were free to do as they liked, talk about being sorcerers and travelling to America. Not even they helped you, no one did. Hence came the plan Run-Away-From-Home. You got surprisingly far actually. Distillation was great for this: you could see every lapse in your home security, everything that you needed to carry, every route you should take. You had made it to the Kyoto train station before your family could get a hold of you. 

No longer were you a precious child, but you never really were, were you? You were nothing more than a lucky asset to have. The Zenin clan did not hesitate to earn the returns on you as soon as possible. Unfortunately soon. You are eight.

Naoya walks down the steps into the Pit where you lay curled in a foetal position and prods you with his finger. “Up, Kamo-chan” He grins, “Back to your chambers”. The curses melt away into the darkness. 

The days go by in a blur. Obedience, subservience, wifely duties, be agreeable, be quiet, be attentive, the domain of the kitchen and bedroom, marriage, husband, Noritoshi Kamo. You want to drive a machete through that man’s chest. He’s the cause of all this, yes, it’s all his fault. Now that your marriage has been fixed (and a bride price of 60 million yen wrestled from the Kamo clan) there isn’t actually any care or concern for your previously much praised cursed technique. When you think about it, it isn’t really great in any way, is it? Distillation allows the user to understand everything within the span of their eyesight. Every question answered, every mystery solved, the cloudy waters distilled – as long as you can see it. You suppose Sherlock Holmes would love this power, but you are fated to be a wife and mother, nothing more. Maybe it’ll help you find the broom closet faster. The days and months are all plagued by the same thing: Noritoshi Kamo.

—- 

Satoru Gojo walks about the lavishly decorated garden. Megumi would’ve liked the food, he muses, his stark white mop reflecting sunlight over the heads of the celebrating crowd. A Kamo-Zenin engagement, and all the festivities that came with it. Ah, the celebrations of higher-ups, nothing gets them happier than child marriage. Thank fuck I saved Megumi. He didn’t have much choice in attending this. As the Gojo clan head, there are some things you must do, regardless of personal feelings. To not rock the boat. To keep the status quo as it is. 

The ring ceremony is over, bride-to-be and groom-to-be having identical rings on their hands now, and they have retired back into the inner chambers of the Kamo estate. Blood Manipulation and Distillation? Satoru smiled, worth a visit. 

Satoru Gojo wasn’t expecting any resistance from anyone, because A. he’s Satoru Gojo and B. he wasn’t technically doing anything wrong per se, it’s just that people distrusted his movies meeting the young couple. For good measure, what if I teach the kids the concept of free will?

He found the two sitting by themselves on a veranda, apologising to each other about the marriage. Clearly, people were too busy merry-making to notice the runaway pair. Besides, where would they even run away to? There is nowhere to go. Satoru frowned. They’re too young to be behaving like this. 

“Ah, young love!” He happily startled the two with his sudden appearance, “Do you two turtle-doves have space for a dashing older brother like me?”

They did not return his wide grin and wider arms. Satoru watched as recognition clicked onto both their faces (your father had shown you two a picture of Satoru Gojo and told you to avoid him). The Kamo boy, a lean young man of 12, got up slowly and bowed to him, welcoming him with such formal words. The Zenin bride, a literal child of maybe 8, nodded her head, trying to quickly hide her tears. She said nothing, seemingly hiding behind her brand-new fiancé. 

Satoru laughed at the sight. One day I’ll grind down these motherfucking old ass clans who do this shit to kids, I swear to myself. “Scared of me, little brat?” The poor child, look at her. “Aren’t you the sorcerer with the immense Distillation technique?” 

You glance up at him, eyes still watery. Gojo Satoru is startling to look at. Shocking white hair, a full head taller than most people, blindfolded in broad daylight, the palest skin on his handsome features. And his abounding cursed energy, it stuns (and maybe scares) you. The blindfold doesn’t stop much, his gaze can be felt searing into your skin. There is nothing you can do. Helpless, pitiful, sold like sheep by your own family. And yet– 

“Immense?” 

“Aren’t you the one with all the answers? A prophet of sorts, no?”

What? In all your life, you had never thought of things like that– Could you? Were you?

“Her technique is brilliant, Gojo-sama.” Noritoshi lends a hand. “The way I understand it, a bit like your Six Eyes, yes?”

And before you could remember your wifely training, you found yourself contesting him. “Not really, the Six Eyes help him see, in the physical sense. I understand things that aren’t there really. For example, Gojo-sama can see me through my wataboshi, I am certain, but I can see Gojo-sama’s thoughts on this wedding.” Despite everything, you can't not be you.

Satoru claps his hands together, “Perfect explanation, even though that was a bit creepy” He laughs. “Can you really hear my thoughts?” 

“I’m not sure”

“Try–”

Cursed Technique: Distillation

The crowds outside suddenly falls quiet, so do the other two in your room. There is no movement, no sound, no thought except for yours. Satoru Gojo’s formal shirt is from Junya Watanabe’s recent Summer Collection. His molars hurt because he ate too much daifuku at the dessert station. He disapproves of your marriage, but this is a hill that he cannot die on. He’s had some meaty ginger chicken packed from lunch for his adopted son, Megumi Fushiguro. He thinks Noritoshi is too tall and too mature for his age. He truly is impressed to see your technique. He thinks this is all nonsense, and that you are a child, and that you should enjoy your youth to the fullest as a young girl, not as a wife. He promises that no matter what, he will arrange for you to attend Jujutsu Tech School. 

—--

Satoru Gojo left soon after. After a long time, you saw hope in your future.

#3 - Menarche

pics:

sftish_

2. anime screencap

[A/N: honestly i recently binged the whole manga, i cant cross chapter 210 ish, a beloved character of mine seems to face imminent death, im just not ready for it. plus im procrastinating on an assignment, a viva voce test, 300+ pages of reading and a research project due this month, so have at my random burst of energy

do lemme know if u like it, or if i can make any changes? like chapter's too long, or my writing is a bit unclear, id love to hear feedback :)) ]

[loveshotzz]

pretend i wrote this when you were sick - pretend it's also not this long. also sorry if it looks like there are parts missing.

He's on his third call while he waits at the door in the early spring breeze, unbottoned work shirt billowing with him -- silently chastising himself for not throwing on a sweater since you told him to do it before he left. He presses the bell again, hearing it go off in the house for the second time, anxiety brewing in his chest. He'd never seen you so sick, and even though the doctor said it was just a bad flu, seeing you in bed like this made his heart pound. He wasn't sleeping, had been working from home the past few days. He'd set up shop right outside the hall of the bedroom, ignoring his office so he could hear if you called out to him -- Bandit dutifully keeping watch over you at the end of the bed. It was something he wasn't expecting to affect him like this, his thoughts getting clouded with the sound of hospital monitors and oxygen machines.

You did your best to understand and assure him you're okay -- you're just kind of a baby about being sick. Lucky for Steve, he's been loving a chance to get to baby you - despite the ache it causes to see you like this.

But the babying would start even quicker if the front door of the house he was in front of would open.

"Honey, am I gonna have to file a report? You can't just be showing up to my house -- I got a wife at home," the tease comes from a familiar smoky voice, "Do you really want her to find out about us?"

"I called three times," Steve huffs, "I said I'd only be gone for ten minutes."

"Do you really think she's counting? She's probably asleep. Plus, you're a minute man," Eddie winks, beckoning him into the house, "And if she calls you can run right home, you're around the fuck--effing corner."

"Yeah, you're around the effing corner, Big Guy," Gwen's tiny voice repeats from the island in the kitchen.

"Gwendolyn," Eddie warns. "Sorry," she whispers back, "I won' say id again."

"Thank you, doll," he smiles, "Can you ask mommy to bring the soup and meds we packed up for your aunt so we can give it to Steve?" She patters away with her light up sneakers glinting pink and purple with every step, disappearing into the house only to run back winded a few minutes later. "Mommy said you have two hands that work just fine so you can get it," she smiles, not fully understanding what she means, "And then she said to say please after. Please!"

Steve snorts, "Yeah, loser, go grab my shi--stuff."

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

As her father leaves, Gwen climbs back up on the bar stool and looks up at Steve curiously, "So when does she get to come back over?"

"When she feels better, angel," he smiles, "Why?"

She shrugs, "I dunno, I like when she comes over 'cause then it's not just you."

His mouth gapes with a smile, "What do you mean? Am I not enough for you?"

Gwen shrugs in the way four year olds shrug when they're feeling sneaky, "She's juss funner, Big Guy." "Do you hear this?!" Steve gasps as Eddie re-enters, "She doesn't think I'm as fun."

"You haven't been playing 'Cool Barbies' with her, lately," Eddie shrugs, popping the two tote bags filled with sick day amenities on the table, "Ow, ow Lu, don't pull daddy's hair, please." "It's okay Luce, you can do whatever you want," Steve coos to the baby on Eddie's hip, grabbing the bags and putting them over his shoulder. He leans forward to kiss her only for Eddie to step away.

"Dude, not with your potential flu germs -- they're picking up enough sh--stuff at daycare," Eddie says, taking the baby's pudgy hand and waving, "Say byyyyeee Big Guy." "Bah," Lucy gurgles in her post nap haze, head resting heavily on Eddie's shoulder. "Bye, Big Guy," Gwen smiles, hugging him at the knees, "Tell Auntie-I-said-hi-and-I-miss-her-and-love-her-and-that-she-is-so-pretty-and-that-I-have-new-Barbies."

"I will tell her, thank you for the message," Steve nods, chest hammering again at the thought of you sick and bed without him. He flicks his head up at Eddie, "Tell Peach I said hi."

"Yeah, I'll tell her somethin' alright," he half grumbles, hoisting Lucy higher up on his hip. Steve blows Gwen a kiss before making it back to you in the quick trip is takes to get back to your place. He knocks softly before stepping in, hearing your soft 'hm?' that sets his whole body a buzz with affection. "I have..." he starts, opening the bags, "Two quarts of Peach's famous 'sick soup', a shit ton of orange juice, 800mg motrin, a card from Gwen, a drawing from Gwen, three new pairs of fuzzy socks, a toy for Bandit? Okay..." He lists off the rest of the care package before looking at you with a smirk, "And absolutely nothing for me." "I can gib you someding," you murmur out with a stuffed nose, "I can gib you a kiss." "Ooh, how about I give you a kiss tough girl?" he asks, chestnut hair falling into his eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead. His lips are warms against your clammy skin, enough to soothe you back into a cozy half sleep under the covers, "How're you feelin'?" "Dired," you admit, "Bud I could really use thad soup." "Okay," he nods, "I'll heat it up for you." He gets back to the door looking back with a soft gaze on you, thinking of Lucy's face and how it looks when you hold her on your hip, how you look when you play Barbies with Gwen. How it would look when there's a baby that's the perfect blend of the two of you bouncing on your lap, when there's a baby monitor in the bedroom, when you're both complaining about germs at daycare. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before going downstairs. Right now, babying you is just enough.

CAROL!!!! Stop 😩 I physically cannot handle this amount of yearning. What have you done to me?!? I’m still sick (it won’t go away) so this was still perfect. Of course he’s imagining getting me pregnant while taking care of me, ILL GIVE THAT OLD MAN ANYTHING HE WANTS!!

Also shout out to the number one couple here and that’s ocs!eddie and airwiy!steve. I love that the little glimpse we get of them living close to each other now and the little growth of the munson family 🥺