#zero two matching icons

[seraphineblushy]

Twitter: matchingcutepfp

[sceletaflores]

ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, resident bestie diva wade wilson, matching costumes ofc, established relationship, p in v, semi-public sex (bathroom), rough sex, mirror sex, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, light degradation, light hair pulling, light choking, nasty dirty breeding kink (@guiltyasdave infected me with the breeding kink disease...it's all her fault), 4k words for straight up porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: happy halloween! sort of...i obvi couldn't wait to post this until the actual day cause i have absolutely zero patience so here you go! i thought up this idea in the middle of the night and literally got out of bed to start it. it's a nasty self indulgent mess...hope you love it! kisses <3

cutie divider by icon @saradika-graphics!

you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...

Unsurprising to no one, Wade Wilson knows how to throw a party. 

Every year since the two of you became neighbors, you’ve gotten a gaudy invitation decorated with cartoon bats and devils slipped under your door just in time for Halloween.

Of course, it’s always in some cheesy font, red and glittery. A crappy pun about “scaring up some fun with your favorite mercenary” with a return address listed as ‘Hell’s Playground’ inscribed on the front.

It's awful. You haven’t missed one yet.

And not just because you’re a sucker for free booze and cheap decorations. It’s like tradition now, you can't have your perfect attendance streak cut off four years in. That's just bad manners.

Besides, this is the first year you’ve gotten to do a couples costume.

“I look fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan mutters, deep voice laced with irritation as he messes with the wolf ears perched awkwardly on his head. “Can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing.”

You don’t turn to face him, but you can still see the frown tugging his lips down in your mind. Logan’s never been one for costumes, but his options were either dress up or stay home while you went and had fun without him.

He was dead set on staying at home for most of the day.

One look at the frilly white bloomers that came with your costume and he changed his tune.

“Quit being such a baby,” you toss over your shoulder, pouring your second cup of whatever Wade mixed together in the mini cauldron sitting on his bar. “You look great, babe.”

He really shouldn’t complain, his costume is barely a costume. An old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and some mangy jeans.

The fake ears and tail were a struggle and a half to get him on board with, but Logan’s all bark and no bite. He was more than willing to roll over and show you his belly after enough begging.

Logan scoffs, big hand pawing at your hip to drag you to his side. “You owe me for this,” he rumbles low in your ear, the playful threat sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll survive,” you tease, a smug grin spreading across your face as you tug playfully on the tail clipped to his belt loop. “Unless you wanted to switch?”

Logan’s eyes drag over your body shamelessly, all the way from the floppy sheep ears sitting on your head to the lacy white corset and matching bloomers that do little to hide your curves. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, how he runs his tongue along the sharp point of his canines like he wants to sink his teeth into you.

It sends a familiar heat coursing through your veins, warming your insides just as much as the vodka with a hint of mixer you’ve been sipping at.

You start to wish you shelled out for the fake fangs at the party store.

Logan tugs you closer, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smirk. “Not a chance in hell,” he rasps, voice dipping a couple octaves lower. “Looks better on you, baby.”

You hum idly as his arm snakes around your waist, fingers splayed along your lower back, inching dangerously close to the swell of your ass.

“You better behave,” you chastise, though it’s more playful than stern as you look up at him through your lashes. “We’re in public.”

Logan’s grip tightens, a soft grunt leaving him as he leans in, nosing along the side of your face. “Doesn’t seem like much of a party when all I’m thinkin’ about is how fast I can get you outta this damn costume.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warm puff of his breath over your skin makes your knees feel weak. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when he’s practically radiating heat and that intoxicating scent of leather and pine fills your senses. 

Before you can respond, a loud call of your name grabs your attention. 

"There you are!" Wade shouts from across the room, already making his way towards you.

All six foot two and half inches of him is wrapped in blue and white lace, paired with a matching hoop skirt that bounces with every step he takes. His shepherd's staff thuds against the floor when he comes to a stop in front of you. “Fashionably late, I see.”

“We’ve been here for thirty minutes,” you point out, brow cocked as you take in his costume. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’m the hostess with the mostest, honey bunny,” he says, throwing his arm out to gesture towards all the dressed up guests crammed into his living room. “Can’t spread myself too thin.”

He eyes Logan's wolf ears and fake tail, then turns back to you, wiggling his brows suggestively. 

"Kinky,” he comments, flicking the little gold bell hanging from the choker around your neck. “You two just couldn’t resist a little predator-prey roleplay, huh? Should I be worried about you getting all ‘Animal Planet’ on my couch?”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his mouth brushing your ear as he mutters, “I’m gonna kill him before midnight.”

“Now, now, big bad wolf, no need to huff and puff and blow my skirt up. We’re all here to have a howl of a time!” Wade continues, undeterred. “Plus, if you behave, I might just let you keep your sheep when the night’s over.”

You can practically feel Logan’s eye twitch, but you snicker, leaning into him just a little more. “Play nice, Wade,” you say, trying to smother your laugh. “The wolf might eat you first.”

“Please,’ Wade snorts, twirling his shepherd's staff deftly in his hand. “If that’s on the table, I’ll lay out the fucking fine china.”

Logan lets out a huff of air, dropping his hold on you and brushing past Wade with a grunt. "I'm gettin' another beer."

“Try not to stab anyone!” Wade shouts after him, loud enough to be heard over the Monster Mash blaring from the speakers. “Al might blow the whole complex if any more blood gets on the linoleum!”

Logan throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen. 

You watch him go, a grin plastered to your face at the way the tail swings with every step he takes. Something warm and fuzzy settles in your chest, blooming in the empty space of your ribcage.

You know Logan hates this–the people, the lights, the music, the costumes.

But he’s here anyway, for you.

Here wearing the stupid wolf costume you bought for him, surrounded by drunk people in inflatable dinosaur costumes and witches with dollar-store broomsticks. And despite all the grumbling, he hasn’t bolted for the door once.

All for you. And that makes your heart thump a little harder in your chest, your smirk softening into something sweeter.

"You’ve got him whipped," Wade deadpans, crossing his arms, the lace of his sleeves rustling as he does. “It’s really disgusting.”

You snort, shaking your head softly. "More like he's got a soft spot."

Wade eyes you skeptically. "Same thing, toots."

You hum noncommittally, turning back to him. “Cute outfit,” you comment, eyeing the white bonnet secured by a neat little bow under his chin.

“You like it?” Wade does a quick twirl, the blonde curls of his wig nearly slap you across the face as he does. “The guy at party city kept giving me weird looks, but I think he was just jealous of how well I fill in the blouse.”

You rake your gaze over him slowly, taking another slow sip from your cup. “The stockings are a nice touch, but don’t you think running around as Little Bo Peep will send some confusing messages.”

“Well, duh. That’s only the whole point, Sherlock.” Wade snorts, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “I’m way too emotionally invested in this relationship to not try and wiggle my way into throuple territory.”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “A throuple? Hate to break it to you, Peep, but Logan doesn’t really strike me as the sharing type.”

Wade leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s letting you in on a secret. “That’s why I’m playing the long game. Gotta wear him down with my irresistible charm, and when he finally snaps, I’ll swoop in with a bottle of Jack and a promise of no strings attached.”

You shake your head, chuckling into your drink. “You’ve got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Oh, honey,” Wade purrs, winking at you with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, “I've got a five-year plan.”

You roll your head to the side lazily, sheep ears swaying as you do. “I’ll give you points for persistence.”

"Damn straight," he says with a grin, straightening his bonnet proudly. “This level of commitment takes stamina. And by the way, I’ve got great stamina. My record is thirteen.”

You raise your brow, intrigued. “Thirteen what? Rounds? Hours?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face in a killer dress, thank you very much.”

You groan, giving him a light push. "You’re impossible."

Wade grins, leaning closer to throw an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just pulling your tail, Wooly. You know I’d never come between you and your beefy boy toy. I mean, look at him. He’s practically pacing the kitchen like a caged animal just looking at you in your slutty nursery rhyme getup. How pathetic.”

You turn to steal a glance at Logan, who’s leaned against the counter scanning the room from behind his beer bottle. You feel a thrill at the idea that he’s watching over you like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close, slowly working himself up over the mere sight of you. 

But more than that, it’s the slight reluctant smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the party. You can tell he’s managing to find some enjoyment in all this, even if he’d never admit it.

“Well,” Wade starts, dragging the word out slowly. “Since you’re all cozy over here with your alpha male, I’m gonna go find someone to share these…”

He holds up two shot glasses filled with some unidentifiable neon liquid, “…artisanal beverages with. Maybe that guy dressed like a merman. I’ve always wanted to see what's going on under those tails.”

You snort, raising your own cup to your lips. "You're awful."

“Only on the outside, sugar,” he says leaning down to kiss your cheek with a wet smack before flouncing away into the crowd, his skirt swishing as he goes. “Don’t fuck in my house without at least inviting me to watch!”

You laugh to yourself, watching as Wade fades into the crowd of gyrating bodies. You take another long sip, relishing in the familiar burn as it slips down your throat.

The laughter, the music, the chaotic energy of the party—it’s all intoxicating in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the way Logan’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of your head.

You can feel his gaze like a tangible force, wrapping around you and drawing you in. Logan’s not just watching; he’s assessing, hungry for something that goes far beyond the Halloween festivities surrounding you.

The heat radiating from his gaze only intensifies your already buzzing anticipation, mixing dangerously with the two drinks swirling in your stomach, making you bolder.

You throw back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the bar and making your way across the room. You weave through the crowd seamlessly, the music pulses around you, drowning out the laughter and chatter.

You feel a daring grin spread across your face as you saunter closer, reveling in the way Logan tracks your every move like a predator zeroing in on its prey. 

When you’re finally standing in front of him, you lean against the counter, giving him a good view of the way your corset dips lower. The fabric hugs you in all the right places, teasing him with glimpses of your skin beneath the delicate lace. 

"Looks like Little Bo Peep lost his sheep," he mutters, voice like gravel drenched in honey.

You smirk, tilting your head to the side innocently as you step around the counter. “Maybe I was already planning to run away, to go looking for a big bad wolf to play with.”

You slip two fingers through the belt loop at the front of his jeans, tugging him closer with a rough yank.

Logan’s goes willingly, taking a step closer. His breath hitches as he does, the hazel of his eyes darkening as you press your body against his, not letting an inch of space between you.

“You're really pushin it,” he warns lowly, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. "Makin’ me watch you run around in this fuckin’ thing.”

“Am I?” you reply coyly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. “I’m just—” you start, but the words are swallowed by the thumping bass of the music as Logan’s lips crash against yours, silencing you with a hungry kiss.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but melt into him, feeling the world around you fade away.

The taste of beer mingles with the vodka on your tongue as you sink into the kiss, his hands tightening around you as he pulls you even closer.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is keepin’ my hands to myself,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. 

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, biting your lip as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. You can see the fire smoldering in his eyes, the predatory glint that makes your stomach flutter with excitement. “But maybe you could show me just how hard it really is.”

Logan lets out a low growl, and before you can blink, he’s snatching your wrist up and dragging you through the kitchen. 

Laughter bubbles out from your chest as you trip over your own feet in an attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, the warmth in your stomach dipping lower to leak sticky and wet between your thighs.

He’s not rushing, but there’s an undeniable urgency in his step, a raw need that makes your pulse race in sync with his heavy stride. Weaving you through the crowd and out into the hallway until the noise of the party gets lower and lower. 

You’re familiar enough with the layout of Wade’s place to know where Logan’s taking you, the bathroom.

The door is hardly shut before Logan’s spinning you around and crowding you against the sink. His lips are on you before you can even catch your breath, rough and possessive, as if he’s been starving for this all night. 

The kiss is rougher than before, dirty and all consuming as he claims your mouth. A mess of teeth and tongue and spit that sends your head spinning, body arching off the counter and into his instinctively. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, trailing his lips down your neck, kissing and biting his way to your collarbone. “Drivin’ me so crazy, baby.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his calloused fingers trace over the swell of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch. 

Your arms circle his neck, dragging him down for more filthy kisses. The thick length of his cock pressing against your stomach insistently has you keening, a hard plane of scalding warmth even through the thick material of his jeans.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers brush against your inner thigh, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?" His voice drops even lower, a filthy rasp that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You don’t answer, can’t answer, because Logan’s already got his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing over the soft fabric of your bloomers.

His touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to have you gasping, head lolling back to expose even more of your neck to his fever hot lips.

He groans when he feels how soaked you are, his breath coming out in a rough exhale.

“Figures,” he grunts, his fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow circles over the slick fabric. “Could smell it on you from across the room. You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me, baby.”

You whine, high in the back of your throat, chest heaving with every quick breath. Your legs spread, thighs widening like you can’t help it. His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, fanning the fire of need festering inside you. 

“Next year we’ll get you in a skirt,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly. His fingers slip under your bloomers, running through your slick folds teasingly. “Easy access.”

You let out a breathless moan, your hips bucking against his hand, begging for more.

“Logan,” you whimper, but he just smirks, applying more pressure with his palm as he leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“You like that, don’t you?” Logan rasps, his voice thick with desire. Dark tone laced with satisfaction as he dips one finger inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. “Look at you, drippin’ down my hand. You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues working you with skilled, relentless touches.

Two thick fingers plunged in your aching pussy, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. "Please," you whimper, gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles turn with it, needing more, needing him to ruin you. 

“Please what, honey?” he rasps, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You gotta be more specific.”

You grind against his hand faster, desperate for any kind of relief from the unbearable heat building between your legs. “I need you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Need you to fuck me.”

Logan’s response is immediate. A low growl tearing its way from his throat as he gives your bottoms a rough tug, letting them fall down the length of your legs to pool at your ankles.

He slips his fingers out of you, ignoring your displeased whine and spinning you around to face the mirror, hands gripping your hips as he roughly bends you over the sink.

You find his eyes in the reflection, and the hunger there makes your pulse quicken. His lips are swollen, red and slick just like your own. Hazel eyes blown out and stormy, as he meets your gaze.

The fake whiskers and nose you drew on him before the party using an old eyeliner pen are smudged across the lower half of his face along with the red remnants of your lipstick. You have matching black marks scuffed along your cheeks.

"You’re gonna watch while I fuck you," he growls, popping the button of his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He strokes himself once, twice, before lining up behind you, dragging the blunt head along your soaked entrance. "Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, baby. I want you to see what you do to me, what I get to see every fuckin’ time."

You nod breathlessly, eyes locked on his in the mirror as he pushes into you with one hard thrust. You gasp at the stretch, head falling to your chin at the pleasant burn of his cock.

"Fuck," Logan groans, his eyes glued to your reflection as he bottoms out inside you, the sheer size of him making your body tremble.

"Tight little fuckin’ pussy," he mutters, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to move, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. "You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock."

You can’t stop the moans that fall from your slack lips, pathetic little uh uh uh sounds that get punched out of you with every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Take me so fuckin’ well,” he growls, one hand coming up to grip around your throat, tugging meanly at the bell of your choker that rings as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. “Such a good little sheep, lettin’ your mean old wolf fuck you like this.”

 "Fuck," you moan, the sound broken and desperate as he drives deeper, the thick length of him hitting that spot that has your knees buckling beneath you. “God, Logan…”

“Look,” Logan commands softly, reverently. His lips brushing your shoulder with every word as he tilts your head back up to the mirror, making yourself watch as you take his cock. “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are getting wrecked on my cock.”

Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with lust, your lips parted in a constant stream of breathless moans. You feel embarrassment mixing with the arousal swirling through your stomach, thighs shaking wildly from the onslaught of pleasure.

The loud slap of skin on skin rings through the tiny bathroom, underscored by the wet gush of your pussy around him each time he buries himself in you.

If anyone were to walk by, they’d surely hear it. They’d know someone was getting fucked, really taking it. The thought alone has you tightening around Logan’s cock, velvety walls clenching around him desperately. 

Logan notices, because of course he does, clever eyes picking up on the way your own drift to the door, lingering.

He threads his fingers through your hair, meanly yanking your head back to the mirror, a feral grin stretching across his face as he watches the way you fall apart for him. 

“Want me to howl for you, baby?” he teases, breath hot against the shell of your ear. You can feel the way his lips curve into an evil grin at the pathetic whine that bursts from your lips, at the feel of your pussy drooling around him even more than before.  

“She likes that, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his thumb finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles as his hips speed up impossibly faster. “Dirty fuckin’ girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m givin’ it to you?”

You whimper, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the rhythm of his thrusts. Your thighs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as Logan takes you apart, piece by piece, with every deep, punishing stroke.

"Answer me," he growls, voice dripping with dominance as his hips snap against you, the head of his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you again and again. "You want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are for me, huh? You want them to know how much you love being fucked like this?"

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as pleasure floods your system. "Yes, Logan, fuck—ah! Just—just don’t stop."

Logan growls, low and feral deep in his chest. It shakes through your body, rattling your bones just as much as the heavy smack of his metal laced pelvis against the raw skin of your ass.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy, I can feel the way she’s sucking me in, baby,” he grits out, hips stuttering slightly. “She want my come, darlin’?"

You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, nodding frantically as his words push you closer to the edge. Throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts as the spring inside you coils tighter and tighter, a hair's breadth away from snapping.

"Yes, please, Logan," you moan, your fingers digging into the counter as you brace yourself for the relentless onslaught of his cock. "I want it, want you to come inside me." 

Logan’s hips stutter as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. He’s close, his breath coming out in ragged pants as his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pressing against your pulse just hard enough to make you dizzy.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, heavy balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? And then I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck my come so deep inside you, you’ll be beggin’ me to give you more.”

That’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap, pleasure surging through you in hot, uncontrollable waves. You cry out, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, and Logan lets out a rough growl, driving into you harder, faster. 

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, dragging out every last second of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your voice hoarse from how loud you’re moaning.

“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he keeps fucking into your trembling body. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—gonna come so deep in you.”

Your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, your entire body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Logan isn’t finished. He used the fistful of your hair still trapped in his hand, tugging your head back to meet his wild gaze in the mirror. 

“Eyes on me,” he commands, his pace growing erratic. “You want me to fill you up? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Logan,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Please—I need it.”

With a deep, broken groan of your name, Logan slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick. His fingers tighten on your throat, and you moan at the feeling of his cock pulsing, filling you up to the brim. 

You can’t stop the whine that falls from your lips at the feel of his come spraying your insides, completely drenching you with it. So much that it just has to take.

A shudder runs through you at the idea, pussy clenching around his spent cock weakly.

Logan sighs contently, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath, hands falling to your waist like it's the only anchor keeping him from floating away entirely.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the faint thump of the music outside bleeding through the walls.

Logan tips his head back up, meeting your hazy eyes in the fogged up glass of the mirror with a shit-eating grin. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” he says smugly, dropping a kiss to the sweaty skin of your shoulder. 

You huff, rolling your eyes with a reluctant fondness. The thought of walking back out there makes your stomach turn, nerves and arousal churning together at the chance that everyone knows what you two were doing after disappearing for so long.

You only hope the white fabric of your bloomers is good enough at hiding the come already leaking from your pussy.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[fumiscripts]

✦ BIRTHDAY PRINCESS

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

✦ content:: coming back from an overseas match, kaiser didn't expect to find you literally slide towards him to greet him for his birthday

fluff/crack, 1580 words

additional:: reader has ZERO shame, affectionate asf reader, slight suggestive joke but it's so corny we js ignore it, loving kaiser so hard he almost freaks out but the keyword is almost, author did not know what she was doing, semi-rushed ending but that's because author wanted to clutch this for his birthday, swearing warning though I believe people are already used to that

You had a card up your sleeve.

No, seriously. You had a card up your sleeve at the moment. Not a playing card, though. It was a birthday card. For who? Your not-so-lovely boyfriend: Michael Kaiser. Well, now that you think of it, you did have another card up your sleeve. You planned to be a little devious. Just a little. You swear you won't be a public nuisance by doing this.

It's December 24th, a few minutes before midnight. You were in a private lobby of an airport, equipped with a portable speaker and a semi-charged phone, waiting for Kaiser— who was returning from an overseas match— just so you could drive him back home and make him your passenger prince, as a sign of affection, of course.

You kept looking around, staring at the signs that showed flights, waiting for his flight's status to turn to ‘arrived’. It's been a good few hours of waiting, already. You swore you got here right when the sun finished setting. This shit is taking forever. Then again, it was the holidays, so it's to be expected that places like the airport were bustling with people and fully booked flights, which might be the cause of delays.

Right as you thought you might crash out from waiting, they finally announced the planet's arrival. You ascended in joy, proceeding to basically cheer to the heavens above inwardly. You burnt holes into the door of the lobby with just your gaze, going back to your plan of totally not embarrassing both of you in front of the team.

The entrance handle twisted, and the door opened. You see the iconic blond and blue locks as he walks through, and you're filled with familiarity. On cue, you press the play button on your phone, making his eyes snap to you as the audio plays obnoxiously loud through the room.

You catch a brief glimpse of a judgemental expression on Kaiser's face. He barely had any time to ask you what in the actual hell you were doing, before you were already sliding to him on your knees, in sync with the lyrics from the song that blasted from the speakers connected to your phone

“THERE GOES MY BABYYYY.”

“What the fuck–?” his curse was cut off by you making contact with him. He was utterly flabbergasted, and you were just calmly latching onto his torso, just like the clip of this trend you were referencing. Kaiser suddenly grows aware of what was going on, as well as his surroundings, and he suddenly felt like hissing and thrashing away from you like an angry cat that did not want to be picked up.

You were not letting go, though.

With your arms wrapped around his waist, you were completely content with staying like that beside him. He was comfortable to hold, anyway.

Yes, you were just completely ignoring the way he was attempting to peel you off of him like you were some disgusting tick that clung to him. You could tell some of his teammates in the room were staring at you two, too, but you could care less. Hey! At least you didn't do this in public public, right?

You acquired a minor bruise on your side because of that little stunt.

Kaiser accidentally kicked you while trying to shake you off of him. But you could say it was worth it. You wanted to try the trend on him, but he didn't agree like the killjoy he was, saying that ‘he wasn't gonna entertain any of your fantasies about being able to hold him like that, even though that desperate display might be amusing.’ This was the only opportunity you could think of. You definitely had no other choice, so fuck it, you went ball and did it.

Now, he was staring at you— practically scolding you silently. You smiled it off because you were just a chill guy. “I have another card up my sleeve,” you remarked. That sentence alone had him debating whether to question how he was into you or to play along. Kaiser decided to do both, with the former being to himself, and the latter being what he did to you.

“Don't you dare pull some weird shit,” he muttered under his breath, sounding a bit exasperated, before sighing and replying more forwardly. “And that is?” Kaiser prompted, waiting for you to reveal whatever you wanted to show him now. He watches you reach into your sleeve, pulling out an actual card. You took his hand, planting the parchment into his palm— facing down— before retracting your arms, wearing an innocent smile in your face that just screamed mischief.

He looked back and forth between you and the letter in his hands, like you just handed him a ticking bomb. “It's a card for you. Open it,” you urged, and Kaiser could notice how enthusiastic you were, eager to see him read whatever was written. He hesitantly turned his gaze back down at it, unfolding and reading it, purposefully not out loud because he just knows it’s some bizzare freak.

Happy Birth ay!

I’ll give you the d later. ;)

These words were bolded. Kaiser’s eyes went back to you— still smiling with faux innocence— and stared at you disapprovingly, as if you were some abnormality. “...What the fuck?” he asks, making you grin wider in your successful tomfoolery. It was too late for this— or rather, too early. It's already 12 in the morning.

“Isn’t it amazing?” you comment, being met with the card being thrown to you, lightly making contact with your face. You gasped in overdramatic offence, easily catching the piece of paper. “Wow, you have no taste in absolute art,” you remark, leading to Kaiser sneering at you.

“I do. You're the one who doesn't,” he replied, heading away from you and to the exit of the airport, acting like he doesn't know you once passing by a more crowded area. He wasn't gonna associate with your weirdness. 

You went after him with the straightest face you could muster. You were nonchalant like that.

Going to his car, he raised an eyebrow when you led him towards the side where the passenger seat was. He was skeptical about you driving. Who can blame him? He rarely sees you drive, plus it's late at night— though he figures you were less tired than him for still being this energetic. He can trust you with not crashing the car this one time, maybe.

You opened the door for him, really putting in effort into making sure he had full service. Inside the vehicle, the first thing he sees is a bouquet of blue roses on the seat. Then, he notices the little crocheted dog plushie beside it. He turns to look at you, a smirk etching on his face, but you could tell it almost resembled a genuine smile. “You've outdone yourself, huh? I'll give you an A for actually pulling this off.”

“How generous of you,” you say in return, gently closing the car door after him. Once you were in the car, yourself, you started the engine, doing all the necessary safety shit like buckling in your seatbelt and whatnot.

When you turned over to where Kaiser was, he was staring at you. Not in the cute affectionate way, more like he was observing you. “Don’t crash,” he instructs after a short, silent staring contest. You simply smile innocently in return— you've been doing that a lot for a while now— and look back to the steering wheel, putting your hand on it and stepping on the pedal.

How fortunate. You can actually drive decently. Enough to bring you two safely from one point to another.

The plush and flowers were placed on his lap, and he found himself fiddling with the blue petals. Usually, he hates surprises. As well as presents. But coming from you, he supposes it's an exception. It might even be endearing. But perhaps that was just his personal bias due to being your boyfriend.

Kaiser leans on the car window, feeling the cool glass against his skin. You could almost feel those azure eyes watching you while you navigate through the streets, but you kept your own on the road. You could see how his gaze is almost soft, and how the mask of confidence and self-assurance he refused to not wear around others wasn't plastered on his face. You could tell that it was a sight that only you had the privilege of seeing.

It was nice to see him be like this— genuine without hiding behind a constructed facade. It might be cheesy, but you’d forever cherish the way he willingly lets his guard down around you. You could say that that's one of the reasons you like to do things for him.

And to him, having you— someone he found himself genuinely trusting— around was alike to having found a solace. Like a place of refuge. Whenever it was just you and him, he didn't have to be Kaiser: the German prodigy, a football star. He could just be Michael.

Plus, though he might never admit it to you nor himself, he's found himself starting to like the way you give him affection. He's been deprived of it for too long, and you're willing and ready to give it to him with warmth. 

Maybe he could get used to gifts— especially when it's coming from you.

(a/n):: I can't do this I love him sm ANW happy birthday Kaiser ml my pretty wife <33 and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

taglist: @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku

@lakeside-paradise

© fumiscripts 2024. don't steal, repost, translate or modify my works without my permission.

[kxsagi]

Could you do something about the Blue Lock Boys with a girlfriend who practices a sport like Muay Thai or boxing professionally and is quite famous for dragging her opponents? 💘

“𝐊𝐎: 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝”

a/n: get em girl boss

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

silently obsessed. he never says anything, but you catch him rewinding your fight clips with laser focus like he’s decoding national secrets. 

“your weight distribution was off by 3% in round two.” bro how do you even know that? 

secretly has your “top 10 verbal takedowns” saved to his phone. watches them when he needs cheering up. 

he’s not impressed when you trash talk. he’s turned on. 

you call someone “a wet mop with delusions” and he just raises an eyebrow like, hot. 

refuses to sit in the VIP section, instead sits in the back so no one sees how fast he’s clapping when you land a KO. 

“that punch was sloppy.” five minutes later in private: “... you looked good though.” 

itoshi sae

you could be dragging your opponent across the ring by their hair and sae would still be in the front row sipping iced coffee like it’s a spa day. 

literally unfazed. she’s choking someone? cool. what’s for dinner? 

sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until he shows up behind you post-match like, “hey. you’re bleeding. want tacos?” 

thinks your trash talk is theatrical brilliance. 

“she said ‘i’m gonna turn you into a cautionary tale’ and then actually did. love that for her.” 

got banned from interviews because he kept answering on your behalf. “how do you feel about the win?” “she’s hungry. move.” 

you're punching people, he's posting “date night ❤️” selfies. 

isagi yoichi

isagi fell for your smile. the public fell for your fists. 

he watches your matches like he’s witnessing a crime. jaw clenched, eyes wide, muttering prayers like a soccer mom watching an MMA bloodbath. 

you’re standing over your KO’d opponent, shouting, “tell your coach to pick better fighters,” and he’s clapping like “yay baby good sportsmanship 👍” 

pre-fight: “good luck, you got this ❤️” 

post-fight: googling how to hide a body because you just ended someone's career. 

once tried to “trash talk” your rival to hype you up and said, “you’re gonna get dropped so hard, your sponsors are gonna ghost you. better hope your wifi connection is stronger than your jaw.” 

kisses your bruised knuckles gently like you’re a porcelain doll, not the reason three people retired early. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand anything about boxing but calls you “champ” with his whole chest. 

falls asleep watching your replays. wakes up like, “oh nice punch babe.” 

once live-tweeted your match with absolutely zero context: “she kicked someone. she’s mad. i want a sandwich.” 

wore your merch to your match, but accidentally put it on backwards. 

lets you practice moves on him but flops like a ragdoll after one jab. “ugh too hard. let me lay here. i’m your emotional support floor.” 

told the team your pre-fight stare “felt like being hunted by a hot panther.” 

thinks your trash talk is poetry. “you said she hits like a toddler with pool noodles? iconic.” 

mikage reo

you’re the fists, he’s the PR team. this man markets your violence like a startup. 

“she punches, she profits, she slays. watch the brand grow.” 

always wearing your custom gloves around his neck like a necklace. people think he boxes, too. he does not. 

posts ringside selfies with captions like: “date night 🥰✨ (she sent someone to the ER xoxo)” 

gets personally offended when your opponent breathes in your direction. 

“did she just look at you funny? okay, but WHO gave her that right.” 

hands out business cards that say “a maneater’s boyfriend 💋” 

has your catchphrases trademarked. yes, even the one where you threatened to turn someone’s ribs into origami. 

kaiser michael

somehow thinks your fights are about him. 

“she wins because she’s inspired by my greatness.” kaiser pls. 

stands ringside with his arms crossed and a smirk like he’s the final boss of the match. 

you said “i’m gonna fold her like a beach chair” and he printed it on a hoodie. wears it proudly. 

reporters: “kaiser, are you afraid of your girlfriend’s aggression?” 

kaiser: “afraid? i fuel it.” 

makes you couple’s merch that says “she hits / he hollas” 

once kissed you mid-match. literally interrupted the referee. said it was “good luck.” you still won. 

karasu tabito

you flame someone during weigh-ins and he’s behind you whispering, “YEAH. GET HER ASS.” 

follows your rival’s private account on twitter just to “hate more efficiently.” 

“i’m not petty. i’m supportive.” 

once shouted “THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND!!!” when you dislocated someone’s shoulder. 

analyzes your fights like a reality show. “did you see her face when you landed that hook? chef’s kiss.” 

lets you demonstrate chokeholds on him just so he can say, “yeah, she does this to me at home, too.” 

acts scared around you for fun. “i told her i forgot to do the dishes and she did a spinning elbow. i think i blacked out. she’s so cute.” 

bachira meguru

paints your face on a flag. brings it to every match. 

screams “GET HER, BABE! TURN HER INTO A HUMAN PRETZEL!!” from the sidelines. 

once tried to jump into the ring mid-fight because “your foot looked lonely. i wanted to help.” 

you: death glares your opponent pre-match. 

bachira: “aw she’s so pretty when she’s homicidal 🥰” 

makes you fan edits that go viral. 

also made one of your KO punches into a meme template. it’s now used in sports arguments across the internet. 

your opponent: “you suck.” 

bachira, holding up a glitter sign: “say that again but louder so everyone can hear my girlfriend crack your jaw.” 

shidou ryusei

lives for the chaos. you throw one punch and he’s tearing his shirt off in the stands. 

“THAT’S MY GIRL!!! KICK HER IN THE TEETH!!!” 

got banned from five venues for excessive screaming. wears it like a badge of honor. 

tried to propose mid-fight once. while you were punching someone. 

rewatches your KO clips with suspicious enthusiasm. “look at that form. look at that power. i’m so in love with her violence.” 

also calls you pet names like “bloodthirsty babe” and “my precious little war crime.” 

100% believes you could take him in a fight. wants you to prove it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[niluffa]

୨୧ “ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 ! ” — masterlist

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : five times satoru has said your name with different kinds of emotions, and one time he said your name softly.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 : fluff, friends to lovers, angst, smut, s2 spoilers, sub!satoru, dom!fem!reader, riding, praise, dacryphilia (lots of crying), handjob, two orgasms, creampie, small aftercare

𝐖. 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 8,0k

𝐀𝐔𝐓. 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : this took a ridiculous amount of time, and i’m still not satisfied with it !! :( and please, sex is not a healthy coping mechanism, please don’t do this irl. this is fiction

you gulped at the “welcome to jujutsu high” sign standing tall at the entrance of the school you were transferred to just a few days ago. apparently, it was due to your ‘ability to see curses’—mind you, what the hell was a curse anyway?

sure, some strange creatures always kept peeking out from behind the buildings whenever you were on your way to school or back, but you always thought you were just a bit insane. or at least, that’s what your parents, who couldn’t see curses, always told you.

years of therapy that you didn’t even need were hopeless to shut down your worries, and you sometimes wonder if you were just as out of your mind as everybody, even your friends think.

“aliens? cut that crap out, [name]!” they would laugh at you.

the information you have spilled to your therapist somehow reached yaga, the principal of the school you were walking through at the very moment, who wasted no time to reach out to you, happy to explain every one of your questions.

well, he wasn’t exactly happy to realize yet another bright teenager like you will spend years of torture and the burden of being a sorcerer, building up friendships just to watch them drop dead one by one—only to end up like them.

he didn’t tell you that because he knew you were already aware of the amount of pain you would go through once you accepted your position as a student at jujutsu high.

but it was worth a try, right?

you were currently following the principal. he told you to just stay quiet and let him introduce you to your new classmates and future mission partners.

the door into the classroom was slammed open by yaga, and his cold and stoic face matched his deep voice that echoed through the room, “good morning─”

“good morning, sensei!” a white-haired male yells from his seat, his grin spreading from one ear to another. your jaw dropped when you took a good look at him.

he was drop-dead gorgeous.

the iconic glasses he always used to wear were abandoned on his desk to reveal his vibrant blue eyes that could kill by the way they lit up the whole room—which was lowkey a bit creepy. nevertheless, the shade of the blue was just so hypnotic that you couldn’t look away.

the boy’s six eyes immediately get triggered under your stare, and he wastes no time to let his dramatic side out.

“sensei—” the male begins, taking a big inhale, and your face already cringes when you realize his plan is nothing else but to yell at the top of his lungs, “she’s staring!”

the classroom falls dead silent, and you watch the other male with a bun slap the back of the white-haired’s head. the girl next to them sat unbothered, her lips pursing at the awkward silence.

“satoru . . .” yaga warns him, making the boy flinch and shrink back to his seat with a wobbly but embarrassed smile that shows how much he’s prepared for the whole hour of scolding from the principal later.

the older man sighs, “this is your new classmate, [name].”

you stand in front of the board in silence as yaga begins to explain some things that are not related to you—instead, you pay attention to the gazes of the trio you just learned to recognize as your classmates.

a brunette girl on your right, closest to the window. a guy with a bun who was sitting in the middle. and, of course, a white-haired guy closest to the door. maybe that is why your eyes landed on him the second you stepped in.

from what you could tell, the black-haired male held zero judgment towards you by the way he offered you a friendly smile that made his eyes curl into the shape of a crescent moon. he looked kind, and you smiled back.

the girl was questionable at first. she looked up and down at you, and for a second, you were afraid her face would do the twist of disgust, and she would roll her eyes as most of the girls in your school did—but she didn’t. instead, she offered you the same smile the boy on her right did.

the white-haired male—satoru, as yaga mentioned—was a bit different. his reaction was rather interesting. aside from yelling at the top of his lungs that you were staring at him, he did exactly what you expected from the girl on the left.

“[name]?” satoru huffs in annoyance. he stared at you with a pout, his face twisting. but it wasn’t a judgmental twist that would make you burst out in tears and run away from the room—even when you didn’t say a single word, and your voice was still unknown to him.

“i don’t like her,” satoru huffs proudly. the attention he was expecting was far away from reality than he would like to admit. angry look from yaga, an annoyed look from his two other classmates, and a sad look from you.

maybe this was a sign for him to never speak again.

“suguru,” satoru whispered harshly, nudging his elbow into the boy’s side, who was already sending him an ‘are you serious’ look, “back me up!”

suguru clicked his tongue, “raise your hand if you care.”

the silence that fell right after suguru’s words was so damn awkward that even you couldn’t help but feel bad for the amount of embarrassment satoru must have felt after not a single person in the room raised their hand. his head hung low in shame, the sound of his forehead slamming against the desk only making others roll their eyes.

“i apologize for satoru’s behavior, [name]. please, feel free to take a seat.” yaga says, but immediately finds the issue of why you never sat down—the only available spot was right next to satoru. yaga clears his throat.

“suguru? shoko? please,” the principal didn’t have to repeat himself twice for the two of them to nod and switch their seats so that you could be as far as possible from satoru and his bratty personality.

the rest of the class period was quiet, but you could feel satoru’s gaze on you almost every five minutes—just about every time yaga turned his back to all four of you to write something on the board. so as soon as the teacher lifted the piece of chalk to write something, satoru had his head snapped in your direction.

“ignore him,” shoko whispered since even though satoru wasn’t looking at her, his gaze was so easy to pick up that even yaga, who had turned around for a while, knew what was going on behind his back.

after what felt like forever, the class came to an end—that couldn’t be said the same for satoru’s non-stopping stare that went on and on for the past hour without breaking. but once you found the courage to make eye contact with him, he was a long time gone.

you sigh in defeat and wonder if maybe next time you will be able to talk to satoru normally without him him having the need of digging blades into you with his stare.

“hey,” shoko spoke, “can i get your number?”

the weekend followed. you questioned why you had to be transferred to the school on friday and why they just couldn’t let you stay home for the weekend and then show you the school—but who are you to wander into yaga’s office and complain.

when shoko texted you just some location of a random street without telling you any context or clues, anxiety began to rise within your body. funny how a simple “meet us there” was able to shake you up so much.

no, they won’t kidnap you and beat you until death just because satoru was too picky with his choices of making new friends—you had to insure yourself.

“hey, you came!” shoko cheers as soon as you come into her vision, and you tell yourself that it wasn’t so bad, you were just overthinking again. a special habit you had for the longest time, “i’m glad you did.”

suguru nods with that same kind smile and adds, “we were afraid you wouldn’t show up.”

you smiled at their words, genuinely grateful you won’t spend all your sorcerer years as a punching bag for some mean kids who were raised without any sort of manners.

there were two other people, both male. the blonde one introduced himself quietly but with a hint of respect while the brunette one just shook your hand, looking like he was about to burst from having too much energy.

“we’ll go check the movie seats. wait here, okay?” shoko waved, and you nodded, soon enough finding yourself a nice empty bench while the other four entered the movie theater.

the streets were quiet, and you had to admit that it was quite relaxing. not until you heard heavy footsteps and a very familiar voice rushing right in your direction. you cursed under your breath.

“nooo! they went inside already?!” satoru dramatically collapses right next to you, the plastic bag that he was holding landing right on top of your lap. fortunately, none of the things ended up broken.

after satoru was done with his fake sobbing and whining about how he “checked the time multiple times” and “how dare they go inside without him”, he took the bag from your lap to his to open it.

“i’m sorry. about uh,” satoru clears his throat, “yesterday.”

for a second, you froze. apology from satoru gojo himself? oh, you were so flattered you could yell it out from the rooftops. but truth be told, you weren’t affected by his yesterday act at all. maybe that has something to do with your “people’s people” personality.

“oh, no, no!” you wave it off. satoru hears your voice for the first time, and he’s shocked about how sweet and gentle it sounds, “it’s okay, really─”

“no, i’m serious,” satoru cuts you off before you have the chance to rant about how truly you didn’t care and that sometimes, first impressions just don’t go as many people would like them to be, and that’s okay.

“i brought you this as an apology. i hope you like sweets as much as i do!” the sorcerer shoots you the same grin he did yesterday when greeting yaga. “please accept it. it was the last piece.”

satoru hands you a plastic box of edamame and cream kikufuku—a small tag hung from the side of it, and the price that was supposed to be on it was harshly ripped apart so you were unable to tell how much he spent.

you hummed, “thank you, gojo—”

“satoru. please, call me satoru.”

“okay, satoru.” you smile, feeling happy with the whole situation. at first, he was an asshole who looked like he wanted to throw you out of the classroom just because you were breathing, and now, he spent god-knowing how much yen just to buy you an apology gift.

“hey, the movie is starting—oh, satoru!” suguru’s smile got wider at the sight of his best friend and you sitting next to each other, satoru’s favorite kikufuku flavor on your lap.

satoru, immediately after hearing suguru’s voice, grinned and jumped up from his seat. you came running right after them, tightly holding the sweet dessert the white-haired boy had bought you close to your chest as if it was the most precious and important thing in the whole world.

the movie was, in your opinion, boring. supposedly, it was a famous summer horror that your classmates, along with haibara and nanami, wanted to see for the longest time.

the plot wasn’t even that bad, and it had the potential to be interesting if it wasn’t for the poor choice of actors in the movie. the budget was low too, and it showed. so the only thing you really could do was stare at the poor attempts of what was supposed to be a jumpscare.

“oh, man . . .” satoru groaned from beside you and gave in to the impulse thought of spreading his long, aching limbs everywhere they could fit—because he was the strongest, who was gonna stop him when his spreading arms would block their vision of the threader screen?

“this movie is boring!” the sorcerer was now spread all over his seat, your seat, and also you. the boy takes good notice of how you didn’t even look at him when his legs landed right on your lap and how you continued to stare at the screen with a blank expression.

satoru decided to push his luck to spread out even more than he already was. but this time, his head took the place of his legs—right on your lap. finally, you did look down at the recognition of something shaped like a head, and you smiled when you saw the white-haired boy grin up and you.

what you didn’t expect was when satoru’s thumb rose to flick his own forehead multiple times, mentioning for you to kiss the spot he had touched just now. and you listened. bending down a bit, your hand removed all the bangs his hand wasn’t able to scoop, and your lips contacted the skin of his forehead.

“didn’t know you would fall so easily, [name]!” satoru says teasingly, followed by a genuine chuckle. his toothy grin shoved appearance again, and you bit down your lip so as not to burst out laughing and ruin the movie experience for the other people.

a quit flash of a camera, “cut it out, lovebirds,” shoko had to lean over to whisper from her seat so that the guy, who was already glaring at her for taking a picture in the threader, wouldn’t bash her out.

“get a room, you two!” suguru chuckled from the other side and watched both of your faces catch an adorable shade of pink that would be hard to get rid of once the same thing might happen later.

because satoru is definitely getting another kiss from you.

“ew! look how ugly that is!” riko squeaked out of disgust, pointing at a strange-looking creature that desperately tried to bury itself back in the sand before another wave of ocean water arrived and filled the hole again.

the worm-like creature kept digging even after many failed attempts to disappear from the hungry seagulls who kept circling above the four of you for the past half hour.

“ew!” your boyfriend yelled, voice high-pitched when he burst out laughing at the poor animal trying, but failing, to borrow itself away from the flying predators, “don’t worry, princess!” he jumps in from of you, “i will protect you from that gut-wrenching alien!”

“it’s a sea cucumber,” you deadpan, watching suguru and riko chuckle at satoru’s reaction—which was giving you a long face before letting his head fall in defeat, close to throwing a tantrum, “help it, satoru.”

“you’re no fun!” the boy huffs but listens to you anyway. his colossal hands dug deep into the sand, and once reaching a good size, satoru stared at you in silence.

“what?” you question.

“come put the thing into the hole.” satoru gulps, wondering if you’re playing about being clueless about what he wants you to do, or if you’re dead serious.

“why?” you question again.

“it was your idea!” satoru yells. his voice held nervousness and more cracks than the strongest would like to admit.

“don’t tell me you’re scared.” you tease, earning a chuckle from suguru who leaned over your ear to whisper, “oh, he definitely is.”

satoru gasped, “no way!”

“just admit it, i won’t laugh—” you get cut off, needing to bite your lip in order not to burst out laughing because the strongest is afraid of a little sea cucumber.

“you’re already laughing!” the white-haired boy protests, pointing at you with one of his long and slim fingers that he didn’t dare to wrap around the animal.

you roll your eyes at the sorcerer and decide to put the situation into your own hands. so easily, you pick up the marine creature and put it into the hole that your boyfriend has dug. he, immediately, throws the leftover sand back at the sea cucumber right before another wave could come.

“i don’t want to see that alien near me ever again!” satoru made a fake gagging noise, holding you by your shoulder so that you won’t have the audacity to run away and find yet another sea cucumber—and maybe even chase him with it.

the sun began to set soon enough. the seagulls were gone, no longer praying on the poor sea cucumber. riko was wet from being thrown into the ocean water by satoru, and you and suguru spent a lot of time building a perfect sand castle. in secret, suguru would peek around, making sure all four of you were safe, and nobody was here to take the star plasma vessel away.

“we should go back,” suguru suggested, dusting his hands to get rid of the leftover sand he used to build a sandcastle. you nod at his words, turning around to call out for the two other idiots who are still in the water, “satoru! riko!” you yell, catching both of their attention.

satoru stuck out his tongue at the young girl before using his long legs to reach out to you and pick you up without effort. “you look ridiculous!” you squeaked. the leftover sunscreen that didn’t sink into his skin was decorating his cheeks and nose, making him look paler than he already was.

“back we go!” satoru yells, rushing past his best friend to be the first one to reach the hotel—with you still in his arms, looking like a princess the way he was holding you.

by the time satoru sets you down, you’re already in your hotel room. exhausted, you collapse on the bed, “i’m going to take a shower,” you mumbled into the sheets before you picked yourself up and grabbed your towel.

“alright, princess!” satoru grins from behind you, sending you a small wave before you disappear into the bathroom of your hotel. the sorcerer could finally let his grin drop, the same exhausted collapse on the bed following his mind.

but he couldn’t. he had to stay up for the sake of riko. even if it meant another sleepless night would have to haunt the already tired sorcerer. he was the strongest, after all. one night without sleeping won’t kill him.

“satoru?” you call out, confused. the room was empty by the time you stepped out of the shower—no sight of your boyfriend. your footsteps were quiet as you moved down the hall, only to find satoru sitting in the lobby alone.

you kneel in front of him, “you should sleep.”

“can’t,” satoru hums, “too dangerous.”

you sigh at his words. the whole star plasma vessel thing was fucked up and already made your head ache. and the fact you had to watch your boyfriend’s eyebags grow by each day wasn’t helping.

“don’t worry about me, [name],” satoru assured you as if reading your mind, voice visibly tired as he spoke.

“i’ll still worry about you,” you begin, placing a soft peck on his lips, “but i’ll let it go. just . . . don’t exhaust yourself too much, okay?” you blink up at him, and for the last time this long night, he shot you his iconic toothy grin.

you waved at him, ready to turn around and leave—as you were grateful he was sacrificing his own sleep hours so that you could have yours. not until you heard his sweet voice.

“don’t forget to dream about me!”

the first thing in the morning was your boyfriend clinging to your arm, asking: “did you dream about me?” with a pout and puppy eyes that begged you to play along and say—

“yeah,” you ruffle his hair, “i did, ‘toru.”

satoru does a girlish gasp, covering his open mouth with both of his hands like a high-school girl—partly mocking sweet riko, who was eyeing him from the other side of the public plane.

your boyfriend stuck out his tongue, earning a smack from suguru, “cut it out, satoru.”

satoru’s reaction was a huff and dramatic snap of his head towards your direction. you, too busy looking out of the window, didn’t notice his glare. offended by your “not on purpose” ignorance, satoru let out an even louder, and more dramatic huff.

“do you need something, satoru?” you ask, finally tearing your eyes from the amazing view you got from up here.

“your attention?” satoru grins, and once hearing your heavy sigh, he knew he won. spreading himself all over the place, his head landed on your lap just like it did the first time in the threader. the memory almost brought tears—

“hey!” suguru yells, eye-widened, “get your feet off me!”

you lean forward to take a better look, almost bursting out laughing. in order for satoru to place his head on your lap and fit into his seat at the same time, his long legs spread all over his best friend’s lap. poor suguru, of course, didn’t appreciate that kind of behavior.

“deal with it,” satoru mouths, fixing his glasses by using his middle finger to push it further up his nose—flipping off his best friend in his favorite way. suguru stared back at him in disbelief, shaking his head with squinted eyes.

satoru didn’t take his legs off suguru for the rest of the flight, and the other male had to just suck it up and let you and your boyfriend have a romantic moment. but suguru would lie if he said he wasn’t irritated by satoru’s smug grin when you massaged his scalp.

the strongest didn’t have to watch his buddy’s angry stare ever since he drifted off, leaving satoru and you alone for a few hours.

“princess?” satoru spoke, and even when he likes to bother his best friend any chance he gets, his tone is quiet, not to disturb his sleep. you hum, and he continues, “i love you.”

your eyebrows furrowed, “i love you too . . . is everything okay?” you ask just in case, not expecting him to say something so casual with such a strange expression.

for a second, satoru freezes. your eyes were so soft while you waited patiently for his answer, not rushing him and expecting an answer right away just like everybody else in his life did. he was the strongest, right? what took him so long to answer such a simple question?

“everything’s fine,” satoru assured you, but you didn’t fail to notice the desperate squeeze he gave your hand. your hand sent a squeeze back, and the boy relaxed back into your lap, nodding, “promise.”

“take a nap, okay?” you suggest. the flight will last longer than all of you thought it did, and a little taste of sleep did sound nice—satoru thought it through and nodded.

satisfied by his choice of answer, you shifted yourself a bit lower to give the sorcerer more room to fully relax. he was grateful that you didn’t want him to wake up with an aching neck and burning spine.

and trust me, he did thank you by the time all of you woke up and stepped out of the plane. but now, as you walked up the many stairs of the jujutsu high, your legs ached for just a quick break.

“so─many─stairs!” you huff and take a step up with every pause, earning a shit-eating grin from your boyfriend who was able to walk up multiple stairs at once without even breaking a sweat.

“we’re almost inside the jujutsu high’s barrier,” suguru says out loud, and you wish you could just tell him that the fact he just mentioned didn’t help your aching legs or your tired brain that was overthinking all flight after satoru fell asleep.

speaking of satoru—he kept grinning all the way upstairs, never once leaving your side. as if he wanted to watch you suffer with each step.

“i could always carry you, you know?” satoru’s annoying grin got wider, if that’s even possible, as he was eager to watch your reaction. you, of course, turned him down.

the second you pass the last stair, you bend over to catch your hands on your knees. the way you gulped and gasped for air made suguru laugh as he praised everyone for making it to the top.

your eyes rolled back in “pleasure” when the jujutsu high barrier’s cold air made contact with your sweaty skin, and you sighed in relief. the only thing you needed right now was a cold shower.

the comforting feeling left as fast as it came when a warm liquid splashed your cheeks. horrified, your eyes shifted to your left to find the source—only the find your boyfriend with a sword pierced through his torso.

“satoru!” a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the whole jujutsu high campus called out his name, and suguru wasted no time to rush to you, who were already running to your boyfriend.

suguru’s curse was quick to send the attacker away, but when you reached out to help satoru, his palm stopped you right away. “i’m fine,” he smiled, acting like his uniform was not completely soaked in blood.

you were still in shock, unable to choke out anything “just ‘cause your boyfriend was fucking stabbed in front of you and his blood was on your face.” satoru felt bad for the scene he caused—even suguru and riko were worried.

“[name],” satoru said sternly, one hand cupping your cheek to fully ground you into listening to his words. which were, according to him, very important, “you and suguru, take riko and flee. i’ll finish him off.”

you wanted to slap satoru—scream and yell at him for how insane he must have to be to just tell you to leave him all by himself while you, suguru, and riko ran to safety. but then again, he was the strongest. who were you to argue with someone like him in a situation like this?

so you nodded, took riko by her arm, and together with the other sorcerer that was already waiting for your lead, you ran. there was only one thing you could do—believe in him.

“believe in the strongest,” you have told yourself, having enough faith in satoru to let him fight someone who was able to trick his infinity and land a perfect stab that made the time itself pause, letting everybody process that fact.

satoru would laugh, “a perfect stab? he wasn’t even able to hit my fetal organs!” you could already imagine the cocky grin he would shoot you just to make you feel less worried.

but now, the strongest has been announced dead.

the moment those words reached your brain, you were already thrown to the ground with a gun pointing at your motionless body. you could pick yourself up and continue the fight—but what was life without satoru, the only thing that made your life as a sorcerer not so miserable?

your face was still covered in satoru’s blood, which was now dried up. even while finding the motivation to raise your hand and clean your skin, the blood was simply too hard and stuck to your face.

your cheek lay against the cold concrete as you didn't have the energy to get up from the position the man had thrown you into. now, you were basically forced to watch suguru’s curses destroy the temple in the hope of killing whoever started this.

but is this what you really wanted? was this something that satoru would wish you to do? lay down and hear suguru’s screams whenever he got slashed across the chest, or even slammed into the hard walls of the buildings?

maybe you did consider yourself useless, but against the man who killed satoru gojo himself, everybody was—even suguru. but the difference is that he didn’t give up. hearing his best friend die stung, and so did the death of riko when he watched a bullet fly straight into her brain and watch her drop dead right in front of him. but suguru dusted himself off and kept fighting.

but by the time you somehow managed your shaky arms to support your weight to sit up, the man was gone—and so was riko’s body. you were useless to protect the girl and fight against the enemy.

the least you could do was limp all the way to suguru and help him reach shoko in time. you already lost one fucking important person in your life and you were sure as hell not gonna lose another one. so you ignored the burning feeling in your legs and dragged the male to shoko.

during suguru’s treatment, you stayed quiet. the cold wall that pressed against your back triggered every one of your nerves—if that was even possible, considering the fact that your whole body had been shut down the moment you received the news about satoru—but you were too weak to even pull away.

“[name],” yaga’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, disoriented eyes weakly lifting to meet his, “satoru’s alive.”

star religious group facilities—you never ran so fast in your life like you did right now. from one place to another, you cursed yourself for the members who have built some many of these places, as if one wasn’t enough.

“slow down!” suguru yelled. you didn’t listen, jumping off one of his curses to reach another building where you were supposed to meet satoru. so far, it was no good, and both of you were unable to spot the familiar white hair you grew to love.

the door was harshly torn open, and you were ready to let out a disappointing whine at the lack of people in the room. the thought was far from reality.

a bright room filled with hundreds of people, all dressed in white. the clapping sound of their palms directly hitting against each other made your ears ring. even suguru, who was peeking out from behind you, began to worry at your reaction.

the room went quiet when your eyes landed on the tall man walking right towards you. people didn’t stop clapping, and suguru’s mouth moved but no words came out.

there he was─the strongest, alive.

“you’re late, suguru, [name] . . .” satoru’s tone had caught you off guard. he sounded so emotionless, and his stare was blank, not a single ounce of his personality showing. the light in his eyes died too, making you choke up a sob you didn’t dare to release.

there was no need to cry. satoru was right in front of you, alive. his heart was beating, and every fetal wound he had back then was gone.

“should we kill these guys? the way i feel right now, i doubt i’d feel anything about it,” satoru asks. you froze, blinking.

the strongest was far away from being fine. later that day, all three of you returned home with a new kind of trauma that would haunt you for the rest of your life. but that was the life of a sorcerer. helping the weak and taking all the burden on yourself so that others don’t have to.

satoru was a bit shook up, only capable of creating a small form of sentences—a good start. but in the morning, he’ll be the same sunshine as he always is. that was all you could think about as you dragged your soap-covered hands up and down satoru’s back, watching all the blood fall by your feet and drench somewhere into the sewers.

shoko had already cleaned you up, but when satoru was already fast asleep in the comfort of his bed, you stayed up all night to dig your fingers into your skin in the hope of getting rid of the feeling of satoru’s blood on your face.

something like this will never happen again—you swear.

“great. now you need to add—” whatever came out of the woman’s mouth next was just blurred-out words—good for nothing sentences as you stared at the burnt pancakes with horror in your eyes.

months passed since the star plasma vessel accident, and you have grown more comfortable. satoru has been doing better too, not affected by the past events anymore.

now, you stood in the middle of the jujutsu high dorm’s kitchen. the food you have been currently working on has been burned into near ashes, making you question your cooking skills.

soon enough, you grew tired of the smell and decided to clean up so the other students wouldn’t have to work in a mess you created by your poor attempt at the evening snack.

you left the window open just in case your nose got too used to the smell, and the others would have different experiences with the terrible smell—avoiding scolding from yaga, who would never allow you to cook again. even if it meant for you to starve.

but when you returned to your dorm room, your moment of peace and quiet didn’t last as long as you wanted it to be. a small and almost shy knock came from the direction of the wooden door. too curious to ignore the person and throw yourself on the soft cushions of your bed, you rushed to answer whoever was waiting outside.

you were shocked to make eye contact with satoru, whose teary eyes and irregular breathing hinted to you he was on the verge of a panic attack—your thoughts were confirmed when a heart-breaking sob left escaped his mouth.

“h-he left . . .” satoru whispered, lips trembling. before you were given the chance to ask something, you watched him gasp for air with a pained expression, “he fucking left me!”

you stood frozen—who left? you don’t recall any news from yaga that was more recent than a few weeks ago. through the months of being a sorcerer, you never experienced the loss of someone who would decide to leave the school.

perhaps you misunderstood, and satoru was hinting at some random friend of his that he had never mentioned before. maybe they passed away, leaving your boyfriend shaking and in tears as he knocked on your door. but even then, whose absence could affect him this much?

“suguru!” satoru sobs as if he had taken your confused face as a hint for him to explain. unfortunately, his brain was mush at the moment, and the only thing he wanted to think about was getting rid of all the sadness—with your help.

“suguru? what do you—satoru, don’t . . .” you slurred out when you felt his hand weakly tug at your pants, and you immediately knew what his intentions were. you couldn’t allow him to trust you with removing his sadness, not when it involved a still unknown situation with suguru.

“p-please! please, please, please!” satoru sobs, even louder than his first try was. obviously, he wanted you to pity him and give in to drown him in the pleasure he needed so badly.

you shook your head, sternly stating: “satoru, no.” but his loud cries never died down—in fact, they only increased at your rejection. he just wanted for you to let him escape reality, so why did you keep saying no?

satoru fully broke down, hugging your waist from his kneeling position as if his life depended on it. “n-need you, please. just this once . . .” the puppy eyes he had given you was something he used only to really convince you to do something. but even then, he never used it in a serious situation like this.

“not right now, satoru,” you slowly lift him up, forcing small steps out of him before he collapses on your bed, “you’re in pain right now, you don’t realize what you’re saying. by the time you sober up, you’ll regret what you’ve asked for . . .”

the strongest shook his head and kept clinging to you like a baby koala, too afraid to face the reality of the world. what you were saying was true, and satoru’s actions weren’t as healthy as they sounded—but why did it hurt this much?

“b-but—” satoru gasps at the lack of oxygen in his lungs when he tries to confront you about whatever is happening right now but fails to do so, sobbing with frustration, “just this once . . . all i’m asking for—please!”

you weren’t sure for how long you could keep up with your rejecting act—you wanted to take away all of his problems and satisfy all his fantasies that currently fogged up his mind, so when he blinked up to you with those pretty long white lashes, you gave in with a sigh. “just this once, ‘toru.”

you gently laid him down, using pillows and blankets to make a spot comfortable enough to let him fully sink into the moment. satoru, carefully picking, chose a safeword in case the moment wasn’t as dreamy as he expected it to be.

everything was fine. satoru gave you his consent multiple times to the point he thought you were planning to edge him the whole night—tears appeared in his eyes again.

the first kiss of the night was gentle, mostly just helping to distract satoru when your hand traveled all the way down in order to wrap around his graciously pretty cock. you coo at his whimpers, “i know, i know.”

satoru moaned the second you gave him a few testing pumps, looking out for any sight of discomfort or pain.

“more,” the white-haired boy whispers when he decides the stimulation of a few “testing” pumps isn’t enough, and he wants the full experience that you were willing to give him. so carefully, your wrist moved faster.

everything was spinning. getting so much movement on his poor virgin cock from something else that wasn’t his own hand when he jerked off was a different feeling—a new kind of feeling that satoru began to like more and more.

when you increased the speed to keep the pleasure going, your thumb accidentally brushed over his tip. you mentally slapped yourself, noting to be careful next time. but satoru didn’t seem to mind. not when his back arched off the bed with a loud mewl escaping his lips.

“oh, you liked that?” you cooed at him and repeated the same process of rolling your finger over his tip. satoru’s reaction was the same, just slightly more intense with the way his cock shamelessly released an impressive amount of pre-cum.

satoru kept liking all the interactions you had with his cock so far, so the level of enjoyment didn’t decrease once your hand moved faster with the help of the sparse liquid.

the rest of his shaft became wet and slippery, basically letting you just guide your fingers to the tip before letting them fall down to the base. somehow, the movements seemed to trigger something inside the sorcerer when a fucked-out giggle left his throat.

“s-so good—it’s so good!” satoru hiccups between his words, mainly babbling to himself. and truth be told, he didn’t really care if you thought his behavior was weird. fortunately for him, you weren’t one to judge, not in a moment like this, and you kept going.

your hand shifted in different ways, looking out for places that were more sensitive than others in a way satoru could not describe. the male took an immense liking to the area near his tip, or even the tip itself—you noted and kept stimulating the same spot that made his eyes roll.

“c-close!” satoru’s tone was almost shy as he spoke. the familiar burning feeling inside his stomach rose at a rapid speed. he began to squirm underneath you of the sudden pleasure that harshly flexed his tummy, “g-gonna cum!”

“mhm,” you were quick to coo at him with small kisses all over his face. but your innocent touches failed to distract satoru’s attention from your brutal strokes of his cock that were successful to send him over the edge.

“c-cumming!” satoru’s voice was high-pitched before his orgasm washed over his body for the first time of the night. when his release landed all over his tummy, you hummed a praising sound that left the sorcerer trembling. but it was not enough. satoru wanted more.

you checked up on him, making sure he was alright after such an intense orgasm that looked almost painful in a way you couldn’t describe. oh, if only you knew how much pleasure he was in—you would have kept going without a question or pause.

“are you okay, sweet boy?” your gentle voice made satoru feel like he was floating somewhere in heaven. somewhere far away from all the pain and the burden of the world he had to carry as the strongest. especially after failing to protect so many people in his life.

satoru choked on his own sob, and his face was quick to twist from extraordinary pain at the memory from earlier. you still didn’t know what was happening because if you did, suguru would have ended up with a few broken bones for hurting his best friend in such a cruel way.

but you didn’t know, not yet. so you held satoru close to your chest in an attempt to soothe his cries. you’ve already told yourself the session was over when the male shook in your arms from the mix of his orgasm and whatever happened between his and suguru.

but to your surprise, satoru didn’t take this as the end. no, he craved—“o-one more . . . please!” he whimpered against your chest with teary eyes tightly shut. he didn’t want you to see him like this. not when he was so vulnerable.

something about the way satoru kept clinging to you as if you were to disappear made your eyes soften. the sorcerer was so close to escaping the misery that you couldn’t just decline now. with a sigh, you nodded.

satoru expected another handjob—that’s why he kept his eyes shut and let you shift positions so that you could get the work done easier. but when he felt something warm lowering itself on his cock, he gasped.

“shhh,” you whisper, cradling his head back to the original position on your chest before satoru could do it himself. if he knew that knocking at your door with tears in his eyes would lead to you riding him, he would have much sooner.

the moment you were adjusted to his size, your hips began to rock themselves against his. you moved slowly, carefully dragging whimper after whimper from the boy underneath you, who was currently staring at you with blown-out eyes.

you were a goddess to satoru—you had to be. the way you gently caressed his hair, the way you prepped small kisses on his face, the way you moved slowly so that satoru could preserve every roll of your hips.

right now, he wasn’t the “god” who shifted the balance of the world due to his birth. in this situation, you were.

satoru broke down crying, but what he admired the most about you was that you didn’t stop. long ago, he told you to keep going, that he’s okay because he wants this. and you listened to him, not daring to pause your movements.

the boy whispered something, but it was faint. you weren’t able to pick up a single word he tried to say, feeling bad for not being able to respond to him—solid proof that you’re listening. but satoru was too deep into this, and thanks to his constant babbling, you were able to hear his thoughts.

“d-don’t leave . . .” satoru whispered, a bit louder than last time. it was still uncharacteristically quiet for somebody like him, but you were lucky for this position to give you better access in order to hear him.

satoru sobbed this time, fingers digging into every inch of your skin that he could reach. at this point, he was basically dragging you down with him, and you weren’t even allowed to rise yourself anymore to properly ride him.

the strongest, for the first time in his life, was terrified. he was too shaken from the events earlier, and the thought of you following the same path as suguru made him shake in terror. he couldn’t let you leave, not now.

“p-please don’t leave!” satoru wailed, “n-not you! anyone but you! i-i can’t—” his sobs continued on, and on for quite a while, and your hands ended up cupping his tear-stained red cheeks.

“i’m not leaving. you know i won’t . . .” you whisper. one of satoru’s hands flew to yours, weakly interlocking his pinky with yours.

satoru sniffed, “promise?” he could only choke out much, his throat raw from the previous breakdown—not like he cared either way, he was just too tired to try to get his voice to work normally. you nodded, “promise.”

that’s all it took to make satoru’s grip on your skin loose. he no longer held onto your shoulder with a death grip like you were to get up and leave, no. he allowed you to move after you made your promise of not leaving him.

satoru had to choke up another sob when your hand moved to catch his, bringing it up to your lips. you took your time with the kisses, making sure to leave no place untouched.

his knuckles were white from the grip he had on the sheets, or maybe even your skin earlier. you weren’t sure which one was it, since both of them were pretty brutal and made the skin over his bones look paler than usual.

when your lips moved to his palm, you noticed a fresh open cut. the wound held a shape of thin lines that looked almost way too familiar to his fingernails. you took a mental note to ask about it later—once he’s mentally ready.

you placed the last kiss on the nail on his middle finger that held an unhealthy color due to being squeezed for too long. whatever happened with him and suguru, if satoru thought about using that technique, it must have been serious.

satoru was too deep in his thoughts by the time your hips started to move again. the feeling of your slow movements made his eyes roll back to the back of his skull. he thought you being rough with him would be the best option for his brain to shut down—but once tasting the gentleness from your slow pace, satoru chose a winner.

“you’re doing so good, pretty boy. keep breathing through your nose,” you praise him, knowing it will catch his full attention before taking the opportunity to remind him to breathe properly, not wanting his sobbing mess to catch another near panic attack.

satoru blinks up at you through those long, white eyelashes that are soaked and stuck together with his tears. his blue eyes look majestic—they always do, but now, they are just so pretty and glossy from the salty liquid on his waterline.

every time your hips rose before slamming down, the tears threatened to escape. whatever it was rolling down his red cheeks or falling on his thighs, satoru struggled to keep them stay in place.

“i-i tried to stop him—” you carefully listened to his words as he did his best to speak through his heavy breathing of his incoming orgasm, “i really did! b-but he—oh god!” his words were cut where you sped up the pace.

“you did well,” you whisper, being gentle as ever when placing a soft kiss near his ear. “i don’t really know what happened between the two of you,” you admit, ignoring satoru’s high-pitched noises as he began to claw at your skin when his tummy begins to flex again.

“but i know you did a fucking good job,” you finish, and he does too. satoru screams into your shoulder that had been marked with his well-kept nails, sobbing along his release. you kept stroking his hair, feeling his cum fill you up.

the milky ring appears soon enough, and your hips finally come to a stop. satoru didn’t complain this time, letting you coo at him and whisper sweet nothing’s into his ear. telling him what a “good boy” he was, and how he “took it so well”

he didn’t feel so miserable now. the memory of suguru’s back turned to him as he walked out of his life will never leave his mind. it will never not haunt him everywhere he goes—the burning feeling inside his chest will forever stay.

but somehow, he couldn’t think about it when your gentle touches were pulling him to cloud nine. the way your hand caressed his thighs while the other one dragged the wet towel to clean up the mess you two made while his head was gently placed upon your pillow gave him butterflies.

the lipgloss he always wore was dried out now, making the skin feel weird and wobbly. but satoru found the strength to tear his lips apart and say what he wanted you to know.

“[name] . . .” satoru whispered softly, “thank you.”

[koyagifs]

𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ⋆.˚ ★— in honor of a year since ateez was in coachella, let's go over your performance.

⋆.˚ ★— YOU were the talk of the show. Everyone knew that all of ateez are amazing dancer but you POPPED off.

⋆.˚ ★— You dyed your hair silver to match mingi and atiny were LIVING for it.

⋆.˚ ★— trending on twitter with the tags, #whoisthegirlinateez #silverhairgirl

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆: You and Mingi were very touchy, your chemistry undeniable on stage. He often encouraged you to take over more of his lines, giving you the chance to step into the spotlight. When it came time to run your parts together, there was a moment at the second bridge where you’d place your hands on his chest—a subtle yet intimate gesture—before moving over to stand by Hongjoong as he delivered his lines. Afterward, you'd slip seamlessly back into formation.

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒂: Mingi agreed to let you take his line during the bridge so then You and San can be beside each other and shout “Coachella!” in unison, hyping each other up before diving right back into the choreography with renewed energy.

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂: You were pretty much trending on Twitter with the tag #WHOISSHE?! Instead of Hongjoong falling back into San like usual, this time you were the one collapsing into Joong’s arms—effortlessly, like it had always been meant to be. The two of you locked eyes, as if you’d hung the stars for each other. Then, in perfect sync, you and Joong shouted, “Louder!” Oh you love hearing Atiny scream break the wall, it literally boost you so much.

⋆.˚ ★— small intermission: atiny going crazy over you speaking english because your accent really shows. “ atiny, let me hear you scream”

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎: Your ego was in the show, no question. 🗣️ You and Yunho danced side by side as he delivered his opening line, perfectly in sync before the spotlight shifted to you and Mingi. Mingi passed the mic to you effortlessly, like you’d rehearsed it a thousand times. Then came the chaos—you and Hongjoong air-humping the sky with zero shame, and yes, even biting your lip. Icon behavior.

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒚: — Honestly, it was the rappers’ show. You, Mingi, and Hongjoong were nonstop hype machines, backing each other up and going wild with every line. And when I say everyone thought you and Mingi were dating? I mean everyone. The way you two fed off each other’s energy during his part was insane—like you were on the same chaotic wavelength, no notes needed.

⋆.˚ ★—𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 : You and Yunho were face-to-face, practically screaming your lines at each other with raw energy. Then San stepped in front of you to deliver his part, the transition seamless. When it came time for your line, all the boys closed in around you, the energy electric—Seonghwa front and center, hyping you up like his life depended on it.

⋆.˚ ★—𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒂 : You made Arriba your bitch. I mean, the moment that track dropped, you owned the stage like it was built for you. Without hesitation, you ditched your top, snatched sunglasses from one of the dancers, and strutted to the front with the boys. The boys? Either livid or absolutely in awe of the sheer audacity you carried. You went completely off script—something you never thought you’d do, but in that moment, it felt right. You could practically hear your manager losing their mind backstage, but the roar of the crowd? That was louder. That was everything. And you made damn sure they knew your mic was on—rolling your R’s through every adlib like your life depended on it.

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒅𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒐: — As everyone shuffled to their marks, Hongjoong was quick to toss San’s jacket from the earlier set aside, shooting you that signature stern look of his. Django felt a bit more tame, almost like the calm before the storm—especially with Bouncy coming up right after. It gave most of the boys a chance to catch their breathe.

⋆.˚ ★— 𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒚: Oh, you made it bouncy 😏. Sure, you only had a few lines, but that didn’t stop you from stealing the spotlight. You were living for the moment, owning every beat, every move—proving you don’t need a whole verse to have the time of your life. Mingi even had placed his cowboy hat on your head.

⋆.˚ ★—𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅: Oh, your heart ached—because you had so much fun on that stage. Hongjoong handed you the moment, letting you take the lead and shout the iconic “Kaja!” And when he hit that line—“Who wants to wear the crown, wear the crown?”—yes, they actually put a crown on your head. By the time the song ended and you bowed with the boys, you were on the verge of tears. You waved, blew kisses to the ATINY in the crowd, soaking in every scream, every lightstick. It was pure magic—and you didn’t want it to end. “ coachella, you were a dream come true!!”

After the performance, the tears came crashing down. You couldn’t hold them back, even as you tried to calm yourself. Hongjoong didn’t have the heart to scold you for ditching your top earlier; seeing you like this was enough to silence any reprimands. Instead, you found yourself in Yeosang’s arms, his embrace the only comfort you could rely on as you let the emotions pour out. He held you close, quietly offering his support while you tried to regain your composure, but the tears kept coming, unstoppable.

"Alright, come on princess, let’s get you back into the van so we can get you decomposed," Hongjoong said softly, his tone gentle as he reached out to you. His words, a mix of care and understanding, were all you needed in that moment to begin pulling yourself together.

Trust, you did get scolded afterwards - even if you were pouting and acting sheepish.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

A never-ending Worry

(A/N): Ikea gave me a big anxiety attack the other day. Here we are now.

Summary: Reader discovers her own anxiety together with Max through several instances.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Wordcount: 2k

🏎Masterlist🏎 _____________________ Anxiety is a peculiar thing, especially when you suffer from it. It is for (Y/N) at least.

Ever since her first anxiety attack at the ripe age of 16 years, (Y/n) started to worry. About everything. All the damn time. Her head is running the whole time, thinking about different scenarios that could happen. Like her best friend once said:

“The possibility of a baby killing you is slim, but never zero.”

Maybe the possibilities for any of the “what ifs” really happening is low, but she will be prepared if it does happen. It’s an odd sense of safety she can find refuge in, especially in a world of unpredictability.

This is where the peculiarity comes into play. She does not have the knowledge or vocabulary to describe it all.

But (Y/N) never really talked about her constant worries coupled with a never ending feeling of nervousness. Never spoke of this feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everyone feels like that, right?

“Hey Schatje? How many pairs of underwear have you packed for us?” Max called out for (Y/N) as he unpacked their suitcases, that his girlfriend herself packed for the two a couple of days before the trip even started.

A bit befuddled by his question, (Y/N) walks from the kitchen of the rental apartment, where she just finished putting away the groceries they got from their first run to the supermarket, to the bedroom.

“10 pairs for each of us. Do you think it won’t be enough? We can still go out and get some more tomorrow.” Max halts his movements for a second to check if her serious tone matches her face.

It does.

His girlfriend really means what she said.

“No, they will definitely suffice. You do know that we are here for only four days, right?” Max smiles at her. Maybe she just got something mixed up.

“Yes, of course. I planned our activities. It would be bad if I didn’t know about the length of our vacation.” She laughs to herself while moving to help Max unpacking. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, nothing particular. Just checking.” Ok so. It is a thing for many women to overpack, especially regarding their underwear. “Can you explain your thoughts on the number to me? Why did you decide to pack 20 pairs of underpants in total?”

(Y/N) throws him a look. “Well, we need at least four, one for each day. Then I doubled that number, because something could have gone wrong on our car ride here or will on our way back, making us stay on vacation longer. Then eight felt like it’s not enough. Adding to the extra days, an accident could happen that makes you need an extra pair a day, right? And nine is an odd number that is not even a prime number, so I rounded up to ten. Completely logical.”

Well, it’s logical to her at least. Max was partially amazed by her train of thoughts and worries. He just let it be like that. After all, it’s just over packing and he loves how prepared she is in any given situation.

Prepared (Y/N) is. Always.

“Man, it is so hot, my fingers are sticky with sweat.” Daniel complaints. It’s a race weekend in Singapore and the Aussie is right. It is hot.

(Y/N), who walks with Daniel around the paddock while she waits for Max to get out of a meeting, starts to rummage in her backpack. The back she carries with her all the time. It’s close to iconic.

“Here is some hand disinfectant. It makes you feel a bit less sticky.”

Daniel smiles thankfully while taking the little bottle from the female’s hands. “Thank you. I just need to remember to put on some lotion, I don’t want my hands to dry out.”

As soon as he finishes his sentence, she replaces the disinfectant with another small bottle. “Don’t worry, I got you girl.” She winks at the Aussie.

“Oh wow, do you have everything important with you? Can you flee the country with that backpack spontaneously?” Daniel jokes, but it goes over her head.

“Yes, pretty much. I got a small first aid kit, my laptop and all needed chargers for my electronics. Oh, and my passport and IDs of course. Ah, and some small knick-knacks and snacks. Gotta be prepared for the worst case scenario, right?” Her seriousness unsettles something in the driver. But he kind of lets it go, just nodding to her statement. She is right, at least a bit, after all.

“Do you get more nervous when you get into the car? Or is your level of nervousness on the same level?

(Y/N) and Max cuddle in bed back in the safety of their home in Monaco. While asking the question in the wariness of the night, she traces the same shapes over and over again in her partner’s skin. It gives her an odd feeling of safety, the repetition.

Max has a confused look on his face. “What do you mean?” “Well, does your level of feeling nervous rise from the usual one before or during a race?” It sounds plausible to her. But it doesn’t for him.

Max sits up, leaning his upper body against the headboard to have a better look at his girlfriend. “Yes, it does rise, because my usual level of nervousness is zero like for everyone else. Of course I feel different from that, when I get into the car that can bring me over the finish line as a winner. I don’t get the question.”

(Y/N) blinks at him with a frown. “Not- no, not everyone’s level is zero. It’s really just for you that low.” Of course Max is always cool as a cucumber. He only gets this feeling in extreme situations.

“Oh Schtaje. It’s really not. Most people don’t feel nervous often. Do you?” He pulled her close to him, enveloping her completely.

“Not always. Right now, I’m not. But that is, because I’m with you. I know that together we can solve anything.” Max senses that (Y/N) doesn’t want to continue the conversation. He lets it be another time, partially to not make her feel completely uncomfortable in a peaceful moment, partially because he wants to do some research.

Her conversation with her boyfriend sparked something inside (Y/N). Hearing that not everyone is feeling the same way she does, it’s a lot to take in. So she started to do some reading of her own.

Many people on the internet describe the same moments she has: Constant nervousness, the need of being prepared at all times or she’ll break out in a sweat, plus the endless worrying.

And the sudden bursts of intense panic. These moments, where an all consuming fear grips her whole body into a chokehold. That makes her breaths become heavier and her thoughts even faster.

Reading about similar experiences to hers, it makes (Y/N) feel less alone. But one word stood out to her.

Anxiety.

She heard of it and has seen the portrayals on TV. But those are not what she feels. Or is it?

Everything and nothing make sense at the same time.

“Do you want to drive?” Max offers as they get ready to go out for dinner at a restaurant that is a tad too far away to be considered walkable distance. He regularly lets her drive, it’s a bit of emancipation. Why shouldn’t she drive when she has a license for that?

(Y/N) shakes her head no. “I don’t like today’s thoughts. I also feel extra nervous right now, I couldn’t find the menu of the restaurant online.” Max nods, understanding what kind of thoughts she is talking about - intrusive thoughts.

He also appreciates her openness with him about those feelings. “It’s ok, Schatje. I love driving for you, it’s my favorite kind of ride. We will also find something for you, we can order some dishes and share them until you decide which one you want.” He gives her a reassuring kiss on the cheek, hoping to ease up her worries.

During the drive, she holds his hand on the control stick. “It’s good to have you back. Last night I woke up in a panic and thought something must have happened to you on your flight and that this was the reason I had this huge anxiety attack. I couldn’t sleep until you texted me this morning when you landed at the airport.”

His heart grows heavy at that confession. He hasn’t known the extent of her anxious feelings. Max didn’t know how much they overshadowed her in her daily life.

(Y/N) herself never realized how much she has been hindered in her routines by her own thoughts and worries.

“It wasn’t the first time this happened. But it was the worst it has been so far. I thought you died. I waited for my phone to ring or the police to stand at the door, getting notified that you died in a plane crash. I already planned the next steps I had to take from there in my head.” (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look at her boyfriend after this admission.

It is weird to say something out loud, that she used to bury deep inside of her. This kind of vulnerability, it makes her want to crawl back into that hole again.

Over the last couple of weeks she realized that those spiraling thoughts are not here to make her feel safe. That the need of over preparedness is not necessary. That her anxious feelings are not some signs of something bad.

These thoughts are false friends, waiting for your demise, your downfall, to be able to say “I told you so”.

But where to go from here, from the realization of something going gravely wrong, to getting a grip of the situation. To make it all go away?

Max squeezes her hand before putting a kiss on it without taking his eyes off the road. “I’m here for you. I want to hear all those thoughts. As silly as they may sound out loud. I can help you in differentiating if they are necessary, needed, thoughts or if they are the product of overthinking. I want to help you. I want you to not feel anxious all the time. I want to help you through the anxiety attacks. We can get counseling - for only you or together. Just, let me be here for you during every step you take.”

His pleading brings tears to (Y/N)’s eyes. She didn’t know how noticeable her anxiety issues were to outsiders. She doesn’t know what it feels like for Max, seeing her in her most anxious states.

“Yes”, she answers him, “I want you to be here with me. I don’t know if I can do it on my own.” “You don’t need to find out. I’ll be there, for better or for worse.”

Turns out, Max’ deadpan and brutal honesty is exactly what (Y/N) needs.

The evening, where he was away for a race and she had to stay behind, because of her own work schedule. (Y/N) called him in the middle of a not very pretty anxiety attack. “I have this doctor’s appointment. It’s a check-up for my physical health. And what if I-I’m deathly sick and we are catching onto that only now?”

“This is a dumb thought.”

The female halts in her movements. Is it a dumb thought?

“I mean, yes. I regularly go out to donate blood. But maybe they haven’t caught something important accidentally.”

“That is stupid and unlikely.”

She stops again. “You are right. I actually have nothing to worry about.”

The road to having less anxiety is a twisted one, paved by setbacks and a small gap between succeeding and failing. But with Max as a passenger princess on that path (Y/N) knows she got it.

She will be ok, eventually.

[kari-go]

Surprise Chloleka essay, hya! XD

Seriously though I was musing on one of the things I find most fun about writing Chloleka even compared to some of my other favored ships like Chlogami and Chlonette and hit on what makes it extra fun and a lil spicy.

See, the thing with Chloe dating Kagami or even Marinette is both these options 'fit' with Chloe's preconception of herself and the world she lives in fairly well.

Kagami is rich, chivalrous and they are a match for one another's sheer force of will, its just clashing personalities and possibly bigotry that could lead to issues.

Marinette is a bit more of a leap, if one ignores the rivalry, her parents are well connected, respected, & comfortably well off & Marinette is breaking into the fashion industry which Chloe is tied to via Audrey.

These all FIT very easily.

Juleka though?

Juleka is very, very different from what Chloe is used to but the fun thing with Chloe is once she decides someone is exceptional she doesn't try to make them fit a mold but embraces their "unique brand" of exceptional. Its why she doesn't think everyone should dress like Audrey, or why she thinks its fine for Adrien to make friends with the lower classes of their school. They all have their own brands to fullfill.

This means if she decides Juleka is exceptional for some reason, and more tot he point exceptional enough to date. Then Chloe's not going to try and adjust Juleka's behavior, instead her brain will leapfrong to explanations for how X, Z, and Y are all exceptional due to being tied to Juleka and not even realize she's doing it.

This kind of rapid fire double think is how she could engage with her mother & Ladybug and circumnavigate their rejections and dislike.

Juleka lives on a houseboat? How fitting that an iconic woman like her makes her home on one of Paris's most iconic locales like the Sean!

Juleka's aesthetic style is a mix of neon-cyber and gothic punk? Exceptional, that has so many words and is such a stark style, no one can match her!

Juleka likes morbid and scary stuff? Nothing scares Chloe's amazingly bold future girlfriends, not even monsters! & morbid? I think you mean romantically zealous and hauntingly intimate!

The mental leaps are fun & seeing Chloe's spin is entertaining, but it also makes clear there's an interesting set of contrasts, vibes & aesthetics going on which makes them fun to play off one another.

At least that's part of what I lean into when writing them, the other side being that both are more than a little unhinged, Juleka by default. "Let's just kidnap her" & "Coool" being her default suggestions to a problem and response to a monster attacking her. While Chloe can easily work herself up derailing a fucking train for love. Combine the two and you have two very intense people with zero or easily broken restraints becoming enamored with one another and all the glorious chaos and passion that can bring~

ooooo!! you are so right!

I never thought about it honestly. I think for me it was kind of just "ooh what an odd combination" and "purple and yellow <3" and it went from there xd. I guess it could also be the contrast? Like Chloe who's honestly very loud and demanding combined with Juleka who's quiet and struggles to defend herself.. hmm

awesome analysis! :D

[userghouls]

ANIMATED TEXT TUTORIAL: ★★✩✩✩ Difficulty: Beginner/Intermediate

This is a step by step tutorial on how I did the text for my Pink Venom swinging text.

We are going to be making this text:

Before I start, you WILL need Adobe After Effects, but I will show you step by step how to achieve this.

Tutorial below the cut!

✔ Step One: Composition Open After Effects and create a new project, then a new composition making sure the composition matches your gif settings. (ex: 540 x 540, 2 seconds, 30 fps)

✔ Step Two: Creating Our Text Add a new text layer. It should be the same as Photoshop, you can just select the text tool and write what you want. Customize the text to say what you want and change the font and size to your liking.

We should have something like this:

✔ Step Three: Adding Our Animation There should be a box that says "Effects & Presets", in that box you can search for effects. Search for "Explosion". It will be under Text > Miscellaneous.

Select the first one and you can either drag it on top of your text layer or just double click it with your text layer selected. Sliding the time, we should have something that looks like this:

✔ Step Four: Adjusting the Animation With your text layer still selected, press "U" on your keyboard. This will open our key frames for the animation.

It's a lot to look at but don't worry, we will only be focused on Amount and Opacity, and I will make this as easy as possible for you. On the Opacity setting, click on the little time clock. This will remove the keyframes. Make sure your opacity is set to 100%.

Next we are going to adjust the amount so that it explodes INWARD instead of OUTWARD. Find a good spot where the letters are out and add a new keyframe the same way you would on Photoshop.

Now swap the two keyframes so the explosion animation is reversed. Next we are going to remove the scale keyframes. Click on the second stop watch for the second amount parameter, and make sure that one is set to zero.

We should be left with only ONE thing that is keyframed. And the keyframes should look like an hourglass.

You can stop now and leave it or we can make it a little smoother and more fun looking.

✔ Step Five: Editing the Graph & Adding Motion Blur To add a motion blur to our text, we just need to select the three little circle stack on our text layer. Also double check that the same symbol is highlighted blue up top.

Now we have motion blur. Next we are going to adjust the graph. To open the graph select the little graph icon and then select our keyframed buy clicking on the amount parameter.

Now our graph should look like this:

Select one of the dots and two little arms should pop up and we can drag those around to adjust the graph (the speed of our animation). Adjust to your liking, but to make it look like the text in the tutorial, my graph looks like this:

With my graph, the animation looks like this:

Now all the hard work is done!

✔ Step Six: Exporting Now to export our video so it can be turned into a gif: Go to File > Export > Add to Render Queue

We should be at a menu like this:

Click on the part that is blue next to "Output Module" and another box should pop up. For format: change to "Quicktime" For Video Output > Channels: select "RBG + Alpha" (this will ensure our background is transparent)

Select "OK" and then under "Output to" select where you want the video to save.

Now all you have to do is Render.

Once that finishes, YOU'RE ALL DONE!

Import video to frames as you usually would in Photoshop, just don't change the frame delay.

Treat it like a normal text layer/smart object.

As usual, you can play around with all the animation settings to get the look you want, this is just the basics for the main animation.

It looks like a lot but the difficulty is minor once you get the hang of the steps.

Any questions you have during the process just DM me! ★

[harveyguilleniconodelamoda]

New York Fashion Week - February 6, 2025

Christian Siriano shared this photo to his Instagram stories last weekend, prompting speculation that he was designing a custom outfit for the upcoming Critics Choice Awards, where Harvey is nominated for Best Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series. It turns out, however, that this outfit was for Harvey's attendance at New York Fashion Week, to see Siriano present his 52nd collection!

Harvey also attended Siriano's SS24 Runway Show last year, decked out in a custom piece from the iconic designer: a macro-floral sleeveless duster with a bubble collar worn over a sheer top with a black velvet feather pattern.

At last night's event, Harvey dazzled in this backless velvet suit jacket with matching trousers in an icy teal. Teal has long been a recurring motif in Harvey's fashion story, and this cool but vibrant shade looks incredible on him!

The backless look is a new but stunning addition to Harvey's red carpet repertoire that I hope we'll see again! The front of the suit jacket features the plunging neckline, satin peaked lapels, and cropped hemline that are hallmarks of Harvey's collaborations with Siriano over the last two years, as well as the elegant black neck bow that has become Harvey's own fashion signature. He finished the look with sheer shimmery stockings and black patent leather brogues, the latter of which have been a recurring red carpet element for 2025 so far.

We now have zero clues as to Harvey's Critics Choice outfit. I'm even more excited to see what he has in store for us this weekend!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Better Novel Scrivener Template

BTW, If you liked the Settings Template, this has that plus more...

The Current Novel Template is out of date, the templates aren't really doing much for you. And the variety of icons is rather thin. I set out to fix this.

The template as a whole is PG-13 as the Character Template mentions "dangerous" things like "Kinks" and "Safe Words" OMG. I know. So terrible. So if you don't want to explain those things to anyone underage, don't download it.

As I am NB, and generally queer otherwise, I have included things like Sexual Orientation, Romantic Orientation and a whole load of things to think about when building CHARACTER, SETTING, WORLDBUILDING. I included things that people often forget by using my Uni and College knowledge.

Please, please read the "Read Me First" file if you want to avoid having to load missing icons. I give instructions.

In case you still opened it despite my warnings or it doesn't work, you'll have to load in the icons manually. In which case this is a reference:

The New Icons are: Domestic Products, Imported Goods, Exported Goods, Laws, and Social Stratification. I added extra icons for Weapons and Warfare in case you're not writing Fantasy. Laser Guns and a Historical Pistol.

I did my best to make it CULTURALLY NEUTRAL. If you want them specific, you're on your own.

I also added if you'd like to load them

All these Icons to the folder so You can finally color code your manuscripts to your heart's content. (My unending frustration with Scrivener).

I added an SVG file so if there is an exact shade I missed on the Spiral Notebook Colors or the Hardcover Books, you can add it.

The Composition Notebook file isn't included as it contains a pattern. However, I made pains to make sure it matches real life colors that exist in Composition Notebooks. You wanted the Settings Template? There are 2. One for City/Towns. One general one.

Zero Organization or Clue on Querying or Self pubbing?

I put up Organization Folders for you.

Here are the Templates you get. Everything is beefed up for you. I spent forever on these Templates and testing them. I also cued Styles to them so it's easy to change the colors. If you want to change something, as the About document says, turn on invisibles.

The Default Styles aren't useless anymore.

If you need a more Definitive Guide, I also made one in the file:

Download the Scrivener Template. It is a ZIP FILE Win Zip or other Zip app should be able to handle it.

Warning: Direct Download https://www.kimyoonmi.com/BetterNovelScrivenerTemplate.zip If you want to Skip the Template completely, but are wishing to add the Icons to your Scrivener:

https://www.kimyoonmi.com/ScrivenerIcons.zip

This template itself is not for sale or profit nor are the icons. Also don’t be the person that lies that says you made it. It’s a Creative Commons License Attribution, Noncommercial, No Derivatives by Yoonmi Kim 2024. You may change it for personal use only. Any problems can be addressed directly to me at https://www.kimyoonmiauthor.com. If you would like to translate this into other languages, let me know.

Don't be the ass that tries to sell my hard work, 'cause really, it's free. And I spent a lot of pains and time to make sure it's free and easy to use with a lot of subtle UX. Edit: I added even more stuff to the newest version.

Yes, a Pets Sketch, a Fauna Species Sketch a Flora Species Sketch, there is Literature added to the list of Art (I forgot it. lol I thought the mistake was silly, but yeah.)

And I added a Medicine Section with an icon to the technology section. There are two native icons already for Medicine--syringe and pill, but I kind of felt it didn't always give the feel of fantasy, so I made a Mortar and Pestle from scratch to add, but if you're doing sci-fi or contemporary, etc you can change to the syringe or pill.

I added explainers as well for the items to the guide.

Why?

'Cause. I would love to be able to see people put more thought into their worlds/worldbuilding, even if it doesn't show up. Maybe it won't be only horses for animals as pets. Or an occasional dog. Haha. Having a gay dog like Robin Williams would be great.

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter Two // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. 

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Active taglist: @ladyveronikawrites @tearfallpixie @beaker1636 @circle-with-me @synthetic-wasp-570 @itsjustemily @thesazzb @vinyardmauro @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @mountains-to-move @sundamariis @caitcoreeeee @crimson-calligraphyx @letmeadoreyoux @starsomens @artificialbreezy @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @thatchickwiththecamera @mysticdoodlez @chels3a-smile @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @roley-poley-foley @ravieisunhinged @dethronetheveil @to-be-written @somewhere-diamond @somebodyels3 @sacredthefran @cncohshit @flowery-mess @graveatspeople @cncohshit @nerdywitch20 @sundamariis @srorgana1 @malerieee @bloody-delusion-expert @sammyjoeee @deathofpeaceofmiiind @hayleylatour @deadboltsblog @broken0mens

The Uber screeches to a halt outside the fortress-like walls of the Rooks' practice facility, and I scramble out clutching my visitor's pass. After a few tense moments convincing the stone-faced security guard I'm not a crazed fan, the gates swing open. I stride up to the front doors, emblazoned with the iconic blood-red chess piece flanked by two onyx knights - the Santa Monica Rooks logo.

Though they only joined the NHL a couple years back, the scrappy expansion team has already captured the hearts of LA hockey fans - including my dad, former assistant coach for the Kings. When the Rooks came calling, offering him the head coach position, we were over the moon. Now I never miss a game even if it’s just on the TV.  I know the players by name, the chants by heart. This team is family.

And today, I got a glimpse behind the curtain.

The frosty air envelops me as soon as I step foot in the rink, sending a shiver down my spine despite my long sleeves. I cross my arms, bracing against the chill. As the team takes the ice to warm up, my eyes follow their every move with a nostalgic fondness. The sound of skates carving into the fresh sheet, the slap of pucks hitting boards - it all washes over me like a warm blanket. I let out a contented sigh, transported back to simpler times when I would gaze upon this familiar scene as a wide-eyed kid. 

 The players glide across the ice, circling each other in a blur of black and red during their warm-up laps. Legs churned in rhythmic strides as they maneuvered the puck through the cones. The only sounds were blades carving arcs and pucks slapping plastic. Every movement was executed with precision—their concentration evident as they tuned out the world, zeroed in on their drills. At the other end, some stretch and joke around, loose and relaxed. The heavy guitar riffs of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" blast through the speakers—dad's preference, as always. I can't help but smile. This ice, this team, this music...it all feels like home.

From my spot high in the stands, I admire my dad's confident presence on the bench, his gaze intent as he surveys the players before him. Wearing the team's fleece zip up over his well-muscled frame, the dark fabric accentuating his rugged features. A beanie sat jauntily atop his artfully graying locks, complementing his trademark goatee, still as impeccably groomed as ever. He exuded an air of casual confidence - the easy charisma of a man who gets things done with style. Arms folded, he exchanges nods with Jack, leaning in to examine the clipboard that holds the secrets to today's strategy. Never did make it to the big leagues, but he just loved the chess match, the cat and mouse of setting up the perfect play. The thrill of that last second stretch pass springing the winger for a breakaway. The subtle joking with the refs, giving as good as he got. Win or lose, we lived for that locker room camaraderie. Yeah, he was born to bleed the colors, even if the pros weren't in the cards.

I make my way down towards the gleaming glass, the barrier between me and the warriors below, scanning the colorful jerseys for familiar names. There's number 42, Sanchez, the promising new center we acquired in the off-season. And McClain, number 18, our stalwart in goal, broad-shouldered whether in pads or street clothes.

Two skilled players glided smoothly across the ice, giving each other a friendly shoulder nudge and helmet tap as brothers in arms. Ruffilo sported jersey #22, zipping down the right wing with nimble speed and agility, always quick to jump on a scoring chance. Alongside him skated Sebastian, wearing #13. As right defenseman, he partnered on the blueline with the venerable Karlsson (#62). Together they formed the league's dream defensive pairing, scouted eagerly by rival teams year after year, yet steadfastly loyal to their coach through it all.

"Sarah!" My dad's voice thunders across the rink, making me jolt in surprise. I bolt toward him, nearly slipping over my feet in my excitement. Jack grabs my arm to steady me as we scramble into the box where Dad waits with open arms. I fling myself at him, breathing in the comforting scents of cinnamon and Old Spice that mean home. Though it's been months, as soon as his strong arms fold around me, no time has passed at all. I cling to him, my protector and hero, never wanting to let go.

“You're just in time,” he says with a glint in his eye. ‘We were just about to do a practice run. See how the team looks for the game tomorrow night.” 

The sharp trill of the coach's whistle pierces the rink, all eyes snapping to attention. "Alright team, gather round!" Jack bellows, his commanding voice echoing off the cold walls. "We've got a big game tomorrow and it's time to show me what you've got!"

The players scramble into position with new urgency, skates carving trenches into the ice. McClain slams into the net, face set with determination. Sanders follows suit on the opposite end, glove hand twitching with anticipation. Sebastian and Karlsson take their posts, sticks poised for battle.

"Let's run this play again - I want to see crisp passes and quick shots. And remember..." Jack pauses, scanning the tense faces around him. "Leave it all on the ice."

He blows the whistle once more. A flurry of movement erupts as the puck drops, skates tearing over the frozen surface. Shouts fill the frigid air as the team throws themselves into their practice, driven by the coach's steely presence and the promise of tomorrow's game.

The players are focused as they glide across the ice, passing the puck back and forth. Karlsson taps his stick, signaling to Sebastian. They move into position, ready to intercept the other team's attack. The center charges towards the goal, but Karlsson swoops in, poking the puck away. It slides to Sebastian who spins and dishes it off to Sanchez. Sanchez pivots and streaks towards the other end, driving for a counterattack. The scrimmage is intense as the teammates coordinate, aiming to sharpen their skills. Their precise passes and defensive maneuvers showcase their dedication during this hard-fought practice.

Sanchez fires a blistering shot that beats Sanders, the puck rocketing into the net. Sanchez triumphantly throws his stick skyward, but Coach quickly shoots him a warning glare - "One goal does not win a game." As Sanchez skates by, his piercing hazel eyes scan over me for a brief minute, before nodding to my dad. All business, Coach commands respect on the ice. My gaze follows him to position, where I notice Sebastian also watching from his position, momentarily distracted until Karlsson’s stick slap grabs his attention. The intensity radiates as both teams bear down, hungry for the next goal.

The players scramble up and down the ice, sticks clacking as they chase the puck. "Stay in your lane, winger!" Coach bellows, face red. "Defense, keep that blue line secure!" Sanchez barrels through, shoving past his own teammates to get to the net. Coach fumes. That hothead is sparking fights even among his own guys. "Sanchez! Cool it or you're benched!" Coach yells. Sanchez seethes, eyes blazing beneath his helmet. That punk better listen, or this practice will get out of control fast.

Sebastian swoops in and makes a clutch block, gliding on his skates backwards around the net and back into position as smooth as butter. Celebrating with a hearty stick-slap with Karlsson as they criss-cross on their way back to their spots. Just another day at the rink for these puck-stopping pros.

“Karlsson  and Sebastian are the league's top players right now,” my dad says, gesturing to the dynamic duo. “I’m fortunate to have them both.”

He goes on to provide insight into each player. Karlsson, a skilled Swede, transferred here a year ago and immediately found chemistry with Sebastian. As we discuss the roster, my dad analyzes each player's strengths and weaknesses. Ruffilo, for example, is quick and agile but weaker skating left. Sanchez has blazing speed but his ego can be a liability. Meanwhile, Sanders rarely sees ice time as McClain's backup. He remains quiet and reserved as a result.

My dad's wealth of knowledge about the team is clear as he gives me an in-depth scouting report on the players - their stats, records, backgrounds, and areas for improvement. His insightful descriptions provide a comprehensive view of the roster.

The boys look exhausted as they skate back to the bench, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. Jack blows the whistle, signaling the end of the scrimmage. I take in their flushed cheeks and panting faces glistening with sweat. Sanders' sandy blonde hair is matted to his forehead, hazel eyes glazed over with fatigue. Sanchez wipes his brow, dark hair slick against his olive skin that contrasts sharply with his black and red jersey. Golden eyes meet mine briefly before glancing away. McClain rakes a hand through his unruly copper curls, mopped haphazardly on his head. Forest green eyes are ringed with dark circles beneath a smattering of freckles on his cheeks.

Ruffilo and Karlsson skate over to the bench, exhausted. Ruffilo’s shoulder-length black hair, normally pulled back in a tidy bun, is a mess of flyaways and frizz from his helmet. His piercing blue eyes stand out against his tan, sweaty face. Karlsson tosses his helmet aside, releasing his ash blonde hair which is only half pulled back after a grueling workout. Sweat drips down his forehead as he tries to catch his breath.

i'm so caught up staring at the team that I don't even notice Sebastian glide up next to me. He stops hard, ice shavings dancing around his skates. With his helmet off, I finally get a good look at his face. His dark brown hair falls loosely across his cheeks. His eyes are a soft brown too, and his slender nose and exotic bone structure give him an alluring look I can't place. His full lips are parted as he catches his breath, a barely-there mustache and goatee framing them. I'm transfixed, taking in every detail of his handsome face. Hockey has never been so distracting.

"Alright boys, tomorrow we face the toughest team in the league. They've got size, they've got skill. But you know what we've got? Heart. More heart than any team out there. When you step on that ice tomorrow, I want you to remember who we are. We're the Rooks. We never back down from a challenge. We never give up when things get tough. We pour our souls into this game because we love it. We play for each other, as brothers. Tomorrow when that puck drops, I want you to leave it all out there. Skate hard. Hit hard. Play your hearts out, men. I believe in each and every one of you. Now hit the showers and I will see you bright and early tomorrow." 

The players glided by, tapping fists with my dad as they headed off the ice. But my eyes stayed locked on Sebastian. He leaned off the boards and skated backward, gaze still holding mine even as he spun and drifted after his teammates toward the locker room. There was something magnetic about him - an intensity that pulled me in and wouldn't let go.

My dad wrapped his strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. "What do ya say we grab some dinner and chat?" he asked with a smile. I clung to his waist as we strolled out of the chilly rink, past the rows of locker rooms, to his cozy office. He rifled through papers on his cluttered desk, gathering his things before we headed out.

"Dad, why'd you want me to come down here today?" I asked. "You said you had something important to tell me."

He paused, keys in hand. "Let's talk over dinner," he replied, his eyes downcast.

I pressed further. "Why not now? Just tell me."

At that, my dad's shoulders slumped. His face fell. I knew then that this was big news - maybe as big as when he and Mom divorced.

"Well," he began slowly, "Jack's niece is going on maternity leave. We had another one lined up, but he took a position elsewhere. We're in a real bind trying to find a replacement nurse on such short notice to help care for the players."

He looked at me hopefully. I could tell this was difficult for him to ask, but nurse or not, I was ready to support my dad no matter what.

Noah's POV

The pads hit the floor with a thud as I stumbled back to the locker room, feeling about as graceful as a newborn giraffe. The boys were already going on about the coach's daughter, the new eye candy on the bench. Fiery red hair that melted into platinum strands, curves that went on for days - she had the boys drooling before she even opened her mouth.

"Dibs!" Sanders called out, grinning. "Maybe she can give me some one-on-one coaching after practice."

"You couldn't catch her if she was standing still, man," Nick laughed, peeling off his sweaty jersey.

"Let McClain take a shot," Pierce chuckled. "Red on red - I like those odds."

McClain just smiled and tossed his gear in his locker. Yeah, she was a distraction all right. Hard not to stare when she was sitting there looking like that. Had the boys fumbling more than usual out there today. But I gotta keep my focus. Eyes on the puck at all times, even with a smokeshow like her watching from the stands.

I fling my stick and helmet into my locker, peeling off my sweaty jersey and pads. Jolly plops down on the bench behind me, the team still chattering away about her.

"You know how it is, bro. The ladies, they always want a piece of the Jolly." He waggles his eyebrows and flexes, his accent making it sound more ridiculous.

I grab my towel and crack it against his back. "Yeah, yeah, keep dreamin' there, stud."

We were all a bunch of goofs when Naomi first started working here, even though she was Jack's niece. We'd give her a hard time and chirp her whenever we got the chance. But once we found out she was married and had been around for a few months, we eased off and let her be. I was sure this chick would be the same, if she stuck around. She didn’t seem like the hockey type.

The steam embraces me as I step into the showers, washing the sweat from my aching body. But the heat isn't enough to penetrate my sore muscles, throbbing from another grueling practice. My mind races, already on the ice for tomorrow's season opener on home ice. I know once I'm out there, stick in hand, the roar of the crowd drowning everything else out, the nerves will fade away. But right now, they're killing me. I close my eyes, let the hot water massage my shoulders, and visualize our victory.

We were so close last season - just two wins away. But this year, this is our year. I'm not settling for anything less.

That is, as long as Sanchez can get his head in the game. Don't get me wrong, the guy's got skills. But that ego of his just grinds my gears, you know? He's always showboating out on the ice when he should be focusing on the play.

It's gonna cause problems, I just know it. I gotta get him to tone it down and be a team player. Otherwise we can kiss that cup goodbye again. And I'll be damned if I let that happen. This is our time. I can taste it.

Nothing can distract me from that, not even her.

[yuzuocha]

THE HORRORS OF GACHA. [HC]

gacha they would play and how they play. this is based off of the gachas i played, so apologies kek

warnings ‣ uhhahahha this may or may not be completely self-indulgent because i need writer motivation juice to finish up my more serious fics — enjoy this semi-crack hc that prolly makes zero sense

lmao (inspired from moot @anxiousgoddest bc this is kinda crack-ish) also my xavier bias may have leaked a bit too much in this lol. or maybe its just my proseka and ak bias bc i haven't played hsr in a while and it shows

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ・project sekai

— you didn't think he'd get into project sekai to THIS extent.

— you piqued his curiosity when he heard you spewing out curses such as 'I FLICKED THAT' or 'OH, ONE GREAT? YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING' from the floor above his apartment.

— later on a date in destiny café he asked you what game made you fume like so. after a couple of minutes of embarrassed apologies and silent profanities at your apartments' thin walls, you told him about project sekai and its game mechanics.

— "tapping to the beat is very simple in concept, but it gets difficult?" you nod.

— "is it free to download?" you nod vigorously. caleb doesn't play it anymore and tara focuses on toya more than the actual game itself. you'd kill to have a buddy to discuss one of your favorite games, especially if xavier is that person in question.

— you two ended up skipping the claw machinery for plushies in favor of staying in the café and playing project sekai. you did slightly dread about how long you had to wait for him to catch up to you in terms of skill, rank and unlocked songs, however.

— "why is the speed so slow? oh, i can change it?"okay, maybe you don't have to wait as much.

— "i just have to skim through the archives to get the items needed to unlock songs, right?" huh, he's getting to know the ropes quickly.

— "i'll choose this one." he chooses expert and you almost laugh. while expert isn't difficult per se, it's nothing short of impossible to a rhythm game beginner, right?

— WRONG, WRONG, ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY WRONG.

— aside from the beginning where he hit a lot of greats and missed a couple of notes, he was improving by the second while playing the chart and ended with a combo in the hundreds.

— "this is pretty fun and helps with hand-eye coordination," he said as he full combo'ed the song on his second day of playing.

— "the game said i unlocked something called 'ranked matches'. what is that?" day three.

— "i've full combo'ed intense voice on expert, it was very fun." week one.

— god dammit, just why does he have to be good at everything besides cooking and staying awake ??? not even a month in and he got the 'mad skillz' achievement, something that took you over six months to get.

— now he plays it while you're at the meow café playing kitty cards, and your urge to throw your phone across Linkon City has only increased with the amount of all perfects and full combos he piled up.

— it didn't help that his gacha luck was so good despite him being so disinterested in the cards too. you still haven't forgiven him for pulling the entire colorful festival banner within 30 pulls while you got nothing from over 200...

ᴢᴀʏɴᴇ・arknights

— it all started when you were too lazy to reach for your phone and took zayne's instead to search something up. you got distracted by the small amount of apps and tabs he had until you came across an icon that looked surprisingly familiar... a fourteen year old girl with brown hair and ears? arknights??

— you bolted to your phone to immediately send a picture of this monstrosity to caleb, but damn zayne's good vision and movements — you couldn't even touch your phone. never have you seen zayne so flustered; he must've known you were planning to frame him over an app with an underaged girl as its icon despite you knowing the contents of said game.

— you had to stifle your laughter while zayne was explaning why the game was on his phone as if he was presenting a medical thesis — that much detail should suffice.

— according to zayne, he's actually someone who played this game ever since its release. he liked the strategic aspect of it and it was a stress reliever of sorts.

— he also played it because the main plot device for arknights, originium, reminded him of you and protocores, but he won't ever admit to this.

— post-interrogation (?), you took a look at zayne's account; and for someone who claimed that it was just a casual stress reliever, the claim was absolutely ridiculous.

— level 120. all medals obtained. all stories, challenge modes and game modes cleared. all of the operators maxed out and mastered. the six star operators only had the necessary potentials and masteries too — was he a cardiac surgeon or an arknights dev??

— also, just what about arknights is relaxing?? it's notoriety for its difficult gameplay amongst gacha games was nothing to sneeze at, and zayne's a doctor in real life! why in the fucking hell would he want to take a break from his job by playing as a doctor?!

— you ended up surmising that normies couldn't possibly understand geniuses.

ʀᴀꜰᴀʏᴇʟ・star rail

— you two were waiting for the release together ever since the pre-registering and beta testing, let's be real.

— but GOD, rafayel's so laughably terrible at this game despite it not requiring much skill.

— what's even worse is that he's a whale. a big one.

— even when you explained how seele was destined to fail in long-term meta due to her gimmick's trigger conditions, rafayel slammed his credit card down for her, claiming it was "good investment" and that you were just one of those meta-haters.

— and fastforward to addition of the newer characters, you completely steamrolled rafayel's claim. granted, seele was hardly what you'd consider as terrible by any means. but to rafayel, who plays with quote in quote "only the best of the best", it was pretty funny seeing him scowl at DHIL a couple months later.

— seele's been gathering dust since, by the way.

— rages over chests. he couldn't find that one chest at cloudford and the divination commission and he was about to break his pc. this ain't even genshin with hundreds of chests per region. though, in his defense, cloudford was really annoying with all of the contraptions, and it was easy to get lost in the divination. no seriously fuck that shit

— don't get me fucking started with simulated universe. while he eventually learned how to manage through the stages, the process in getting there was quite painful for him to experience and for you to watch.

— one thing that didn't change, though, was his ridiculous luck in terms of artifact-pulling. crit rate, crit damage, energy regeneration, atk increase – you're convinced the game knows that rafayel's a huge spender and they're rewarding him for his services.

— well, he'll manage somehow, even with his all-dps team with zero sustain or support. heh.

taglist! | @kttriangle | @sncrly0urs | @anxiousgoddest (im adding you here just to annoy you btw <3)

tysm for reading! comment down below or message me if you'd like to be a part of the taglist, and if you can, please do consider reblogging! it helps out a lot ;; w ;; and and!! my inbox is open for requests! PLEASE SEND SOME ASDJQVEJWHE I NEED THEM

yuzuocha © 2024 — all rights reserved.

[ari-or-art]

For your consideration: Mimi & Enki

Ack!! I love Mimi and I love Enki and when I got to thinking about it, they totally match each other’s freak. I just really feel like they’d get along and would be great friends in a crossover.

(This entire idea stemmed from a really dumb idea I had a few days ago because of that audio- “name a more iconic duo” was stuck in my head, and so I present to you the twink & redhead duo)

To be clear, Mimi’s and Enki’s designs/colours are done in a more headcanony way- so I gave Enki more melanin and made Mimi a redhead (it just felt right).

Okay so, I wanted to show the crossover in a few different ways- (a lot of writing will ensue, sorry I’m a yapper through and through)

The first in the top left corner is a swap AU where Enki is in WOH and Mimi is in Funger. I tried to capture the essence of both games while staying in my style.

Then next in the bottom left is a modern AU/Not Evil AU where it’s present day and there’s zero supernatural stuff going on in their lives. They are college/university students in this au and I have Mimi studying Pathology and Enki studying Anthropology (probably also Religion), since those both just felt right. I had in mind that they’d both have sh scars in this au since even though there’s nothing cosmically fucked up happening, doesn’t mean they are cured of their inner turmoil- with Enki’s depression, and Mimi’s unhealthy obsession with her own self-mutilation in-game. Now both in uni, they are doing much better and have found that ✨therapy✨ works wonders.

Then lastly, it’s a proper crossover where they meet in the middle and see each other’s worlds. I feel like Enki, seeing as his world doesn’t have human people, very much not godlike at all, with two hearts and the ability to stab into one’s brain and kill the nerves in one’s brain without killing oneself, he would be intrigued by Mimi’s experiments. For Mimi, obviously she’s at least semi used to seeing horror roaming her town, but most of those are at least semi-humanoid and that isn’t the case for a large majority of the creatures in the dungeon. Obviously the gods exist in her world, but none are as big (or I guess imposing??) As they are in funger.

Any thoughts? I absolutely LOVE discussion, so if y’all have any hcs or anything I’d love to hear it.

[loz-furbies]

A Link to the Past Zelda

Design

I think Zelda here has a good design, capes are always cool, and I like that from the start they’ve included metal in Zelda’s dress; even if she’s not a fighter the hint of an armour gives her a badass vibe. The “apron”, which I’m sure has a more dignified name, is also a good and memorable and iconic design element, and I like that it’s a recurring thing in the designs of most of the Zeldas. The sleeves make me think of a t-shirt, but I think it’s ok for a younger Zelda design.

However I’m not a big fan of this shade of magenta overall, and the orange and red details totally disappear in it, which makes them a little pointless. Also I’d prefer if the blue stripes were more similar, now the sleeves have two thin stripes but the dress has one thick striped stripe (which looks strange on its own already).

The casual dress is cute, it looks soft and has a nice harmonious colour palette, and believably looks like a princess’ casual outfit. It's also cute how she has the little hair tufts in this look, and gives her a more unique look. She doesn't have a separate sprite for it, but it's still nice that it exists as a concept.

Her sprite situation is considerably better than with the first two Zeldas in that there's at least some connection between the sprite and the promo art. The colours don't match and her hair is totally different, but at least both have a cape and there's some similarities in the cut of the dress.

Character

This time Zelda has some actual presence in the game and more than one line, but unfortunately it doesn't lead to any interesting characterisation when all she talks about is strictly plot. So we're left with a pretty generic nice and polite princess character who requests help from the dashing hero.

Role in the story

Zelda doesn't get to do a lot in this game besides be resqued twice and sit around at the church for a bit, but you do get to form some sort of relationship with her. Or at least I'm more motivated for the obligatory save-the-princess plot since you get to spend non-zero amount of time with her in the beginning, so that's a huge improvement from the first two games even if it doesn't amount to much compared to the more recent titles.

Later in the franchise Zelda's magical powers tend to be more related to sealing darkness, but in this game she and the other maidens break the barrier around the last dungeon instead. Which is pretty lame, you spend hours saving all the girls and all you get a very short and unceremonius cutscene where they act as a glorified key for like two seconds.

Relationships

Unfortunately nothing. She has a king for a dad who died before the story and came back to life in the end credits, and she's a part of a seven-girl team with magical powers, but nothing meaningful comes out of these relationships. At best you get to imagine what Link and Zelda talk about during the section where you lead her to safety after the prison escape.

[tf2shipswag]

ROUND 1, MATCH 1

crumbsy and loafette belong to @gofishgo and @honeysparklesmash!! jasmine belongs to @laytonsartblog!! [no specific propaganda rules listed from either blog!]

ABOUT OUR CONTESTANTS UNDER THE CUT!

CRUMBSY AND LOAFETTE: - "she [loafette] straight up is a bread loaf. nothing else matters you know. just vote for bread!! she actually is just a toddler in body of bread monster huh" - "ooohh look at him [crumbsy]!!!! the boy ever!!! the goodest boy yeah!!!!! unlike Loafette he's just like a puppy. just a little guy"

JASMINE:

- "She’s like if every noir detective was combined with Garnet from Steven Universe. Also she’s a stone cold bitch that KINDA has a homoerotic thing going with Helen and neither will admit it, and honestly they’ll keep it that way. Despite her cool demeanor, she’s also a total gossip with Ms. Pauling whenever she has the slim chance of seeing her. So y’know. She’s an icon <3 Along with that she’s also a single mother to an activist young adult daughter named Dahlia. She’s proud of her and uses the money she earns helping Dahlia’s career. They aren’t very close due to Jasmine’s job requiring almost zero contact, but Dahlia appreciates it nonetheless. All in all, she’s a badass, a fantastic mother, and just a little bit stone cold, but that doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate a good joke or two."