#how to train a pointer

[largemouthbassnation]

NAVHDA Utility Test - Versatile Hunting Dog Training

This video demonstrates some of the trials and lessons learned on the road to prepare my #Pudelpointer for the #NAVHDA Utility … source

[crocodilenjoyer]

do you think the marines have sensitivity training. was there a debate over whether it was intolerant to crop ace’s chest out of his first wanted poster picture because he refused to get top surgery but plenty of other cis male pirates are shirtless and their pictures are posted as-is. do you think the navy’s medical branch will supply hrt

[randomnameless]

Checking the FB bout on PK for the Eyvel Brigid banner and...

Some stuff is really watermelon worthy, while some other stuff is kind of nice, so, in a way, it's a mixed bag, with the biggest offender being in the general (with everyone, not a character specific dialogue) script :

We have the traditional "new summoned heroes are being chased by bandits!!!" but...

Sure sure, GT is wonky as hell but lol @"I'll heal you with my walking stick"

Less lol though, the "Brigid is tired after fending off against so many pirates and says so to her sister, hopefully Midir and Dew are here to save the day" like... are we talking about the same Brigid who was holding off on a bridge against her entire crew who turned against her?

and the very same Brigid who will later on fight against many gladiators and face tank her possessed!daughter without ever complaining ?

And why the crap is she saved by Midir out of anyone??? I mean, did the people who wrote this thing checked his stats or what??

...

Bar the usual shaddening thrown at someone's spiel, Brigid remembered yesterday she was a Crusader and got her HW from her sister, before she was a captain/member of the Orgahill pirates, a "robin hood"-esque group of randoms. Where does this "what's most important isn't HB or HW but bonds!" come from? Brigid, spent most her life as a random without HW!

In Dew's FB :

TFW Brigid thinks she is called Eyvel and she doesn't have a * rank in bows meaning she can use them at inception, or got the "It's as if I've known this weapon for all my life!".

I've said it already, but I dread a FE4 remake.

Dew wanting to become a good/honorable thief is totes not a thing that happens in FE5 with what Pahn's/Perne is supposed to be, I guess wanting the two of them to interact would have been too much ?

Edain's FB :

Bar the utter nonsense that is Charlotte's "maybe studying Edain will teach me the secret of marrying a rich guy" spiel, it was refreshing/fun to see her interact with Edain and realise that, nope, she's just someone who's kind and her kindness attracts people all around.

Hilariously, she's paired with Doro in this FB and damn how FEH pisses on the so-called teenage dramas from the academy days, from Sharena relying on Sylvain to fight just like she relies on everyone else, regardless of his crust and status, to here, Doro (even if it's Charlotte who has this realisation!) learning that people aren't only attracted to Edain because of her status, they are attracted to her because of her kindness.

i swear at times FEH is trying to retcon/rewrite Doro lol

Brigid's FB :

The last lines with Lifis wanting to join the Brigids' pirate gang is hilarious in its own way, sure it's too bad A!Brigid didn't meet Eyvel, but she and P!Brigid interacted!

I wonder if Lifis and/or Ronan would have made a link lol

It was nice to see her interact with other pirates (tfw no P!Naesala or P!Tibarn convo though) and exchange a bit more with Fergus, with a reference to Dartz! Maybe it's a sign he'll join the next pirate festival? Who am I kidding, we will get P!Ursula with P!Nino instead.

Midir's FB was milquetoast, but it was to be expected lol

[samuraisharkie]

I fucking love dogs and I would never just walk up to someone’s dog and start petting it. I wouldn’t even walk up to someone’s dog and start talking to it. Like this shit isn’t hard, be decent and normal to strangers! The only time I ever feel it’s ok to go over and speak to the owner and maybe ask to pet the dog is if they indicate it’s ok. If someone seems like they’re minding their own business don’t interrupt them.

[pointers4dogs-blog]

How to Train Your Dog to Retrieve

Photo by Aloïs Moubax on Pexels.com Training your dog to retrieve reliably is fun Dog training should be fun! Training your dog to retrieve means teaching him to bring a toy, dog training dummy or any other object back to you on a cue. Retrieving objects is fun and it’s really great exercise that involves many rewarded repetitions of cooperation with the handler. Retrieving has good side…

[satoblue]

“ANATOMY” — gojo satoru

you’re very interested in satoru’s overall physique, and more importantly, the things that make it glaringly obvious that he is a man. | wc: 1.4k

f!reader, established relationship (dating), you stare (hard), satoru’s adam’s apple is a warning in itself, sexual jokes so suggestive, satoru thinks you’re a perv and a weirdo (he’s the real one), mentions of cannibalism and murder, you have a question, boyfie is a menace. | dividers made by me

“weirdo.”

at the sound of satoru’s voice, you’re snapped out of your daze, cheek lifting from where you previously rested it on your palm.

“huh?”

your boyfriend leans back in his seat, folding his muscular arms over his chest — and you have to stop yourself from staring at how they strain under his dress shirt and the ceaseless movement of the sphere in his throat.

it’s so obvious and just… there. it wiggles and bobs whenever he swallows or talks, it’s hard not to notice. and it’s pointy too, almost to the point it looks painful.

part of you wants to pinch it, squeeze it — bite it. and maybe, even suck on it like a lollipop. and you know he’d let out a throaty little groan — it’s simply in his dna to.

a shiver through his body here, a tremble there — all because of the suction of your mouth and the wetness of your saliva on his skin. it’d leave a mark - red and glaring - as satoru tends to bruise easily. it would mean something — that his body belongs to you.

tossing you a suspicious look, he eyes you in a calculating manner with his piercing gaze as if reading the pages of an open book, brows raised.

after a beat, he purses his lips. “you’re staring really hard at my neck . . . either you want to tear a piece off, or you’re finding out ways to strangle me to death.”

parting your lips, you’re about to argue his absurd claims (though, the second option looks increasingly tempting by the second) — but he puts a hand up quickly to shush you.

“aht, aht.” satoru arches a brow. and you huff, but grow silent regardless.

with a sigh, he shakes his head before looking you right in the eye and continuing. “i’m super shy, you know?”

here we go. you roll your eyes.

everyone who knows him at all knows that is farthest from the truth.

“really, when you look at me like that, it makes me kinda nervous and concerned for my safety.” he finishes like a delicate flower, lashes fluttering.

you snort at his display. “oh, please. whatever you were thinking just now — it’s not that.”

“which one? cannibalism, or murder?”

you groan, and a sly, amused grin can’t help but creep onto his face, cerulean blues shimmering with delight and a knowing.

to consume him or to kill him? — that is the question. would it be wrong to say yes to both? this way, you’d know more past his mouth and cock, past saliva and semen. you’d taste and feel his blood.

there is no greater knowing than that.

your boyfriend leans in close, eyes trained on your expression, trying to decipher you where you sit, as if dying to hear a juicy secret. “or are you secretly a vampire and you’re plotting to turn me?”, he inquires playfully, eyes going wide in emphasis behind his shades.

“to be honest, i don’t think i want to be immortal.” satoru ponders, pulling away suddenly and tapping his pointer finger against his lips in thought.

gosh, he just loves to hear himself talk.

then he pauses, turning to face you again and speaks in a sincere tone. “but, if it means spending eternity with you, i wouldn’t mind.”

you hate to admit it, but your heart flutters a bit.

you squash it down real fast.

before you can come up with a clever comeback to his flirting, your boyfriend faints back in his seat dramatically, exposing his neck.

“bite away!”, he cries, palm to his forehead.

your airway stutters, pointedly avoiding his adam’s apple which seems to appear more deliciously prominent - sharper - than before with his head thrown back. “just make sure it doesn’t hurt too much — i have sensitive skin.”

the sight flusters you as satoru easily does, and in a moment of pure instinct, you deliver a tiny flick to his cheek — and he sits right back up.

“ow!” his hand flies up to clutch the side of his face protectively. “i just said my skin is sensitive.” he pouts, rubbing the afflicted, reddening area.

“oh, you poor, dainty thing.” you drone in a monotone voice, trying to appear cool as you attempt to still the erratic beating of your heart.

he grumbles, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint. knowing. though, before he can open his big mouth to expose you, you beat him to it. you adjust in your seat, clearing your throat.

“i’m just curious about—”

“aw, curious? about liddol ol’ me?”, he interrupts almost immediately, unable to help himself. “that’s sweet, sweets.” satoru places a hand over his heart with a coo, heavily endeared.

“can you let me finish?”, you deadpan. he gives you a thumbs up with a goofy grin. idiot.

you smile against your will, his incredibly and annoyingly infectious. shifting forward a bit, resting your elbows on the table, you point at the area of his neck at a distance.

“it’s just…” you start slowly, unsure how to word your words. “your adam’s apple—” satoru grins manically in absolute glee as soon as they lift off your tongue, eyes widening a fraction behind the dark lenses.

“ah, i see...” he speaks calmly, the insane look on his face portraying the exact opposite of his tone.

you hum, breath catching in your throat slightly.

“pervert.”

taken aback, blood rushes to your face. you practically flinch, like you’ve been smacked — and it is incredibly gratifying to satoru that he manages to fire you up like this.

“i am not!”

“yes, you are.~” he sings. “admit it. you want to explore me.”

“what i want is to explore a way out of your presence...” you mumble under your breath. but, satoru hears it — and his eyes twinkle brightly at your cheeky response.

with a huff, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest — and you don’t miss how satoru seems to inspect that movement rather intensely, especially your breasts.

and he calls you the pervert.

your boyfriend smiles innocently at your behavior, urging you to finish. “i was just gonna say that — it looks like it hurts.” you murmur, a finger absentmindedly tracing the edge of the table.

“hm, does it?”, satoru inquires with a low and curious hum, suddenly invading your space until he’s unbelievably close in proximity than before. all you could smell is him with his chest right up against your arm, pure amusement lacing his voice.

you tense up in surprise.

even after all this time, you can’t help how nervous he makes you feel, the butterflies in your stomach that border on a tummy ache, as if you’re being examined under a microscope anytime his sights land on you.

unable to meet his gaze even with the barrier his sunglasses provide, you opt to stare down at your lap, fidgeting with your hands and fighting the warmth in your face the best you can.

but satoru knows. he always knows. he knows the effect he has on you in an instant. it’s written in your biology to react this way with him and only him.

“yeah…”, you mumble, swallowing thickly. “it’s like a ball is stuck in your throat or something..?” your voice grows quieter and unsure as you speak. once you’re done, you don’t get a response from him, and you’re too anxious to look up at his face for his reaction.

it’s intimidating, really. satoru is usually so loud. but, when he goes silent, it feels like he’s judging you. and when he does, the more embarrassed you get. it’s as though you want to impress him even when he’s already yours.

and you just said something real stupid, didn’t you?

time seems to sit still for ages, but in reality, it’s only a good five seconds before he does anything.

with a lighthearted chuckle, he pats your head once as if sensing your inner turmoil, soothing you like he would one of his students — a child. you were just so adorable sometimes, he thinks.

a muscle in your eye twitches.

“well, i don’t know about that. but…”, he moves closer into your space until you could practically feel him in your veins as he whispers in your ear. you shiver, body rigid as his breath brushes against your skin, voice impossibly low and serious before—

“i do know a pair of balls that can hurt if you stare at them long enough.”

you blink, and all of a sudden, the humiliation that previously plagued you vanishes into thin air — his sickness like a remedy to your ills. your head tilts up a bit, staring blankly ahead at something far, distant, and forever out of your reach.

sanity.

“i can show you those when we go home later.” he giggles.

“it’ll be our little lesson in anatomy.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Little Crush-DCxDP prompt

Damian has a bit of a crush. It started with a trip to the zoo. A small clan of purple-back gorillas had been discovered in the wild by the very same man who saved their species. Danny Fenton holds the title of the youngest animal geneticist in modern day. He was only 20 and was held in high regard in the scientific community.

The family took Damian to meet his hero at Amity Zoo where the scientist worked.

Danny took the boy to heart and let him shadow him for the day. Feeding penguins, watching Danny take blood samples and explaining how DNA can tell them where an animal is from.

"We were able to discover the habitat of the remaining gorillas by looking at the resistance in the captive gorilla's blood. They had a strong poison resistance to a specific plant only found in a region in South America. I took a gamble and figured that such a strong natural immune system must mean that it's a part of their diet." The scientist handed Damian a pointer that was used for touch training and lead him to the beak of the tiger exhibit.

Saba ready for her session.

"Do any of your siblings want to join?" Danny asked beckoning the tiger closer to the barrier.

Cass raised her hand before Damian interrupted.

"No."

"Oh...okay. How about we give her a turn anyway. Saba loves new people."

After getting the chance to give a tiger light pets the tour was over.

But Damian wanted to keep seeing the vet.

At least once a week they had to visit the zoo. They had to take turns going with Damian.

This week was Tim's turned and he learned all about cat coat genetics.

Dilution, Seal point, karpati, folded, agouti, locus, lilac, ticked mackerel, Havana, classic, cinnamon, fawn, and blur. Each word sounded like babble as Danny listed every genetic sequence that made up a coat. Silver fawn ticked was where Tim nodded off.

He could admit that Danny was pretty cute. They were the same age too. Tim kind of liked how smart he was but he was also kind of dumb since he hadn't noticed the demon had a little crush.

"I'm gonna ask him out." Tim said as he sat eating churros near the giraffes with Damian.

"Don't you dare Drake!" Damian growled.

"Oh come on. You're too young for him. But I'm not. Besides it's illegal for you." Tim laughed.

"That doesn't mean you get to ask him out." Damian hissed. "Besides he probably wouldn't accept you. Anyone but you."

"Wanna bet?"

[luveline]

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

[theprettynosferatu]

How to Masturbate like a Good Toy

We all masturbate. We all enjoy it. It's perfectly natural and something we do because we deserve to feel good.

But not you.

No, you are just a toy for real people, aren't you? Therefore when you play with yourself, you don't do it for yourself. You do it to bring pleasure to others, to enhance the joy of your betters either directly or by training yourself to be a better fuckdoll in the future.

Therefore it is your duty to use your playing time in a way that maximizes your usefulness. But fear not! I'll give you a few pointers on how to break yourself as you should.

1) Setup:

Time to be a good toy? Excellent! Before you fully start ravaging yourself like an animal in heat, you need to set the mood. First you need to choose: will you do it at home or will you do it hidden, in some bathroom, playing with yourself, unable to stop, just a drooling mess touching yourself where you shouldn't?

For this guide, we'll assume you're not being a public whore and you'll be in the privacy of your own home. First, lock the doors. Close the blinds. Make it so the real world is left outside of your bubble of debauchery. You don't need it, and it doesn't need you. All you need is to make others cum, now or later. All you need is your own depravity. Silence your phone if you must. Your only need is to serve by fucking yourself.

Now you need to choose what you'll touch yourself to. Make sure to have multiple tabs open, and wear headphones so the sounds of the worst, most depraved porn you enjoy blasts your brain. Don't be afraid to explore new, more fucked up kinks! Remember: it's your duty to get worse!

All ready? Now, you must inform people that you will be touching yourself, and what filth you'll be enjoying. So write on Tumblr! Your masturbation isn't for you. Give people the chance to imagine you, to see you in their mind as the depraved fucktoy you are. Give them reasons to stop seeing you as a human.

Good! Now you're ready to start!

2) Performance:

Yes, performance. Even if you are alone, you exist to be porn. You exist to be degraded and mindfucked. So imagine, at all times, that a camera is on you, or that you're exposing yourself to your superiors. Your actions must be for yourself and for that imaginary audience- until you can't separate your pleasure from the pleasure you bring to others.

Moan loudly. Talk dirty. Call yourself a useless fucking slut. Revel in your own humiliation. Stick your tongue out. Arch your back. Grind on objects. Drool on yourself. Abandon all dignity. People have dignity. You are not a person. You are a toy. Use every chance to practice being the best toy you can be. Go on your knees, look up and throat a dildo. Let go of any delusions of personhood. Embrace your place as an obedient little doll. Expose your body. Expose your kinks. Babble. Let your mind fade away.

And remember, take the time to tell people online exactly what you're doing. Your alone time is just a chance to be porn!

3) Finishing:

Time to finish! How to do it?

Don't.

You don't get to cum unless told to. You get to edge. To get right there, right at the point of orgasm... and stop. And then, do it again. And again. And again.

Every edge makes you dumber. Every edge makes you more obedient. Every edge makes you more open to suggestion. Every edge makes you a better toy.

And tomorrow you'll do it again. You'll get more and more depraved. Your morals will weaken as the accumulated edges turn you into a mindless humping machine.

And so, day by day, you'll get closer to the perfect fucktoy you were born to be.

Do remember: masturbation isn't for your pleasure! It is your duty. Your calling. Your purpose.

Now get to it. A new you awaits.

Good Toy.

[largemouthbassnation]

German Shorthaired Pointer Color Combos

Welcome to Standing Stone Kennels! In this video we talk about German shorthaired pointer color combinations and how you get them. Send Us Mail 5919 W Pleasant Valley Rd Pretty Prairie, KS 67570 Links Step-By-Step Dog Training Course: Join our Patreon Community – Our Store – Social Media Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StandingStoneKennels Instagram:…

[ikiprian]

Mr. Fenton is a competent teacher. Almost too competent.

If Mr. Daniel Fenton had any more than a BS (with a minor in education), Tim would’ve flagged his profile as a potential Rogue. That’s the way of most charismatic academics, at least in Gotham. (Got a PhD? Instant watchlist.) Instead, he’s Gotham Academy’s newest celebrity, as a young, passionate, out-of-towner substitute while the chemistry teacher’s on maternity leave.

Tim gets the hype. Fenton seems to genuinely love teaching, and is invested in the welfare of the student body. He hands out bananas during exam week, hosts a “study habits seminar” each month to coach effective learning strategies, and the third time Tim falls asleep in his class, he even pulls Tim aside to ask if he’s doing okay. With all the late work he accepts and the protein bars he sneaks Tim, he’s every teen vigilante’s dream teacher. He could’ve been Tim’s favorite.

In fact, Mr. Fenton was Tim’s favorite. Up until Tim walks into Mr. Fenton’s chemistry classroom for a forgotten textbook, an hour after the final bell.

On the board where tallied scores for today’s review game had been kept, “THE CHEMISTRY BEHIND DR. CRANE’S FEAR GAS: ANXIOGENICS, NERI’S, & YOU,” is now scrawled. A detailed diagram of the human endocrine system projects in front of a small crowd of adoring and attentive students.

Fenton is wrist-deep in the skull cavity of an anatomical model. A short tug, and out pops the brain.

It’s plastic. It’s fake.

Tim identifies the nearest emergency exit.

Fenton turns to the door, and in the dark classroom with the projector illuminating half his face, his eyes almost seem to flash red. “What’s up, Tim?” he asks. His friendly grin is too big for his face. “I didn’t know you wanted to join the Just Science League!”

[OR: Danny’s a science teacher at Tim’s school. Gotham’s a pretty wild place, even for someone who grew up a superhero in a ghost-infested town, so he takes it upon himself to start a club teaching kids how to manage themselves in the event of a crisis. These Gothamites are pretty hardy, but a little extra training never hurt anybody! And he suspects one of his students might be a teen vigilante, like he’d been, back in the day. As a senior super, it's Danny’s duty look out for him! Surely, this is the subtlest and most appropriate way to give the kid pointers.]

[Tim immediately assumes supervillain.]

[jjkamochoso]

Matchmaking Mina

Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

Your kind-hearted captain has taken it upon herself to stoke the flames of love between you and Soshiro!

Warnings: none

Captain Mina Ashiro may act aloof, but she wasn’t blind. Anyone in the Third Division could see that you and Soshiro were the perfect match for each other. If neither of you were going to make the first move, it was only right that she, as your trusted leader, guided you in the right direction. Only, of course, after assessing the situation to make sure you two really did like one another.

*Click*

Her phone captured a snapshot of you at lunch one day, laughing at something Kafka had said. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were creased with joy—you looked positively radiant. Mina made her way to Soshiro’s office, eager to begin her investigation.

“Captain,” Soshiro saluted, “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

“Just stopping by. Checking on the status of your report from last week.”

“It’s almost done. I’ve been hard at work,” Soshiro grinned, sticking his pointer fingers out.

He’s in a pleasant mood. Let’s see if that changes.

“Good. I also came to show you a new picture of Bakko from the other day.”

It was a plausible excuse; Soshiro was a fan of cats as well and Mina was known for subjecting her friends and subordinates to monologues about how cute Bakko was. The vice captain was now standing by her side, peering over her shoulder at the phone in her hand.

“Here it is—oops! Wrong picture.”

Your picture was the one currently being displayed and from her peripheral vision, she saw Soshiro gulp ever so slightly, his eyes opened a bit wider. She was in no hurry, taking her time to slide her finger over the screen to the “correct” photo.

“Sorry about that. It was a cute photo, though, wasn’t it? Didn’t y/n look nice?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean, sure,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears a rosy hue.

Now for the real test.

“I’d never seen them laugh so hard, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re around Kafka, right?”

There was an immediate shift of mood in the room, tension filling the open space like a dam had burst. Soshiro had gone from blushing to bloodthirsty in a millisecond and Mina was thankful she’d been blessed with a poker face or else she’d be bursting in laughter at his very apparent jealousy.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain, I should finish this report.”

Soshiro saluted her again before sitting at his desk and Mina took her leave.

Well, that was informative.

Now she knew that Soshiro definitely harbored a crush for you and a hatred for Hibino. As she walked down the empty hallway, she let a small smile grace her lips.

She loved love.

Mina did the exact same experiment to you a few days later. As a fellow cat enthusiast, you were very excited at the prospect of seeing new Bakko content, quickly taking a seat next to your captain. This time around, she had managed to take an extremely flattering picture of Soshiro during training. He was standing outside, slightly flushed from the previous physical exertion, with one hand on his hip and the other pushing his hair out of his face.

Maybe if I ever retire I’ll become a photographer.

“…and there’s Bakko-oops. Not this.”

Your mouth was partially agape and she spied how you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the man on the screen. His tight fitting shirt hugged every curve of every muscle. His physique and pose were reminiscent of a model you’d see on a billboard in downtown Tokyo or on a runway in Paris.

“T-that’s a great picture you got of Vice Captain,” you breathed out in awe. “He looks so… hot.”

“If you’re into that sort of look, sure,” she answered.

“I definitely am,” you said dreamily, clearing your throat with embarrassment when you realized you said that out loud. “I mean, yeah. If someone was… hypothetically, like… into that sort of… thing.”

Mission 100% accomplished; they’re very much into each other.

Next up was the hard part of figuring out how to get confessions from the two of you without meddling too much. That’s why she was hoping today’s training, with you being partnered with Kafka, would be enough to stir up those same feelings and visceral reactions you both had while looking at the photos of each other not that long ago. So far, it was working splendidly. Kafka would say or do something ridiculous, causing you to howl with laughter and Soshiro to shoot Kafka a burning glare that could rival the intensity of a wildfire. Meanwhile, Soshiro would take his frustration out on the sparring training dummies, in turn leaving you dumbstruck at the way he moved so majestically and remained the most handsome man on earth, even in a state of sweaty exhaustion. When training was finally over, Mina couldn’t slow the buildup of anticipation deep inside her, eager to see the lovebirds admit their feelings, or at the very least, converse with each other. Neither of those things happened; you and Soshiro didn’t even exchange eye contact before going your separate ways.

Mina frowned. Didn’t she plant the seeds of attraction, water the foundations of a relationship, nurture the-

Looking back, I guess I didn’t do all that much.

“L/n.”

You turned around immediately at the sound of your captain’s voice, saluting as the dark haired woman approached you. You had just finished showering after a grueling day of exercise and were on your way to your room to get some much needed rest

“Come with me, please.”

“Right now?” you asked incredulously, eyes raking over the cat pajamas you were sporting. “Should I change into my uniform really quick?”

“No need,” she replied, “it’ll only be a moment:”

“Alright then.”

You were thoroughly confused but who were you to question your captain? You followed behind her dutifully, like a child following their mother to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk after a nightmare. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as she brought you into Soshiro’s office. He, too, had just showered, but he had changed into a fresh tracksuit, presumably because he never stopped working.

“Captain! What can I do for… you?” Soshiro faltered when he saw you peek out from behind Mina.

“I’m horribly underdressed for whatever’s happening. I sincerely apologize,” you said, bowing your head as to not meet his eyes. You weren’t that far below Soshiro’s rank, being a Platoon Leader, but you didn’t want your superior seeing you in such a state of disarray with your wet hair and casual attire in the office. Soshiro, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Y/n! I didn’t see you back there at first. I like your pajamas, cats are always a good choice.” His fanged smile brought you a sense of comfort.

“Thank you.”

You two would’ve gotten lost in each other’s eyes if it weren’t for Mina reminding you she was still there.

“Let me explain what’s going on. Y/n, Soshiro likes you. Soshiro, y/n likes you.”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop from across the base. You and Soshiro broke eye contact at breakneck speed, becoming self conscious and wary.

Mina was confused. Weird. Aren’t they supposed to kiss or something, like how it happens in books?

“I’ll leave you to it. Good night.”

Mina practically ran out of Soshiro’s office, getting hit with a whole slew of mixed emotions as she made her way to her own office. Was she wrong for getting involved in her subordinates’ love lives? Did she somehow misread the signals you both were giving off? Was her conclusion incorrect, leading her to be labeled a fool, unfit for a leadership position? She fretted all night thinking about the lack of response you and Soshiro had about the great news. The next morning, as she got ready, she thought of all the ways she could explain her behavior and hoped this situation wouldn’t lead to her getting fired (worst case scenario) or you and Soshiro feeling awkward around each other (bad case scenario). You two worked extremely well together, neutralizing kaiju with just glances and nods, no words needed, and she’d never forgive herself for ruining such a good team.

Mina fiddled with her jacket one last time before lifting her chin up and making the trek to her office to start the day. To her surprise, the door was ajar, you and Soshiro apparently waiting for her arrival.

Goodbye Third Division, hello HR…

“Captain,” you began, “Soshiro and I really appreciate what you were trying to do for us, but-”

“I overstepped my boundary,” she cut in. “I’m ashamed that I let my self control slip and I put my subordinates, the people in my care, in an uncomfortable position. I don’t know if I can ever regain your trust again, but I swear that I-”

“Captain.”

This time it was Soshiro who spoke out of turn. “My deepest apologies for interrupting you, but you don’t need to be sorry. Your intuition was correct—y/n and I do like each other.”

Mins could’ve cried tears of happiness hearing that, especially knowing that her job wasn’t at stake anymore, but her joy was turned to confusion when she noticed you and Soshiro share a glance, making a wordless agreement, and then both reaching into your shirts…?

She watched with curious eyes as a chain entered your grasp, previously hidden from view under your shirt, a small ring hanging down from it. Soshiro did the same, a matching ring gleaming under the fluorescent lights. It was then that the inquisitive, intelligent, intuitive captain made the connection—

“Soshiro and I are married,” you said, sheepishly glancing over at your husband. Now it was Mina’s turn to be deadly silent. However, you could tell she wasn’t upset, she was busy comprehending everything that was revealed to her.

“We didn’t tell anyone,” explained Soshiro, “because we didn’t want it to become an issue at work. In retrospect, we could’ve hidden it a bit better.”

He scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. “Though Kafka doesn’t ever seem to get the hint.”

“But we know we can trust you with our lives and we should’ve at least told you. I’m sorry for lying to you, Captain Ashiro,” you said, your head hanging low.

That’s when you heard the strangest sound.

Captain Mina Ashiro… was laughing?

“This was an interesting turn of events,” she eventually said, catching her breath. “It turns out I was correct, but not in the way I thought.”

She strutted over to her desk, sitting down and starting the computer. “If that’s all you had to report, then you’re dismissed. It’s time to go to work.”

She looked up one last time, quirking an eyebrow. “Or are you on your honeymoon?”

[wileys-russo]

(Ik it’s not a player but I love them) Solfresa “I could just take a tiny nap?”

oc x oc from my filling the void universe and @girlgenius1111 family line series

world class II fresa putellas + solstråle engen

"sol, no mi amor you cannot sleep now." fresa returned to the bedroom and noticed the norweigan starting to drift off, shaking her ankle as she groaned and opened her eyes.

"why?" the brunette sighed deeply, rubbing her face and crossing her arms over her chest with a small scowl, fresa pausing the nature documentary her girlfriend had been falling asleep to.

"the point of the schedule is to train your sleep pattern so you are well rested at all times, so you are fit to work once you start nights. which means no naps and only sleeping at the times you are supposed to mi amor." the younger girl smiled sympathetically as the norweigan groaned louder.

it had been a long grueling process for the tattooed firefighter to become qualified as so, one that the spaniard currently shaking her awake had not always been supportive of.

solstråle had failed fitness testing twice, both her sister and girlfriend trying to talk her into what they deemed a much less dangerous career path.

but solstråle had never wavered, only spending more hours in the gym and less time talking to those who she didn't think were helping her along the way.

so with a wall of silence in response to the pushback, and the lack of belief only driving solstråle harder into her training and to start developing some unhealthier habits, fresa and ingrid changed tune.

both had come around to helping solstråle instead of wasting time trying to change her mind, but the help wasn't without constant reminders that she needed to be at her most prepared as to avoid any sort of injury while on the job.

so now with fitness testing complete and all of her training finally starting to feel as if it was paying off, the girl was set to swap over from shadow shifts to a real roster, which included staying two nights a week at the station on call.

"fres, baby i could just take a tiny nap? then i will still sleep early on time tonight!" solstråle tried to bargain, pinching her thumb and pointer finger together to make a minuscule gap as fresa firmly shook her head. "not part of the plan amor." fresa smiled in amusement at the girls persistence, gesturing for her to sit up.

"you are no fun today putellas. first you have to study and i have to sit here alone to watch my show because i 'distract you'. now you come back and i am tired but you will not let me sleep?" solstråle huffed with a deepened scowl as the younger girl shook your head.

"you might not think i am fun engen, but is it fun cleaning the big trucks all day because your sister or your chief hears you are too tired to be cleared for the real work?" fresa warned lightly quirking an eyebrow and crossing her arms, solstråle's eyes widening a little in response.

"you wouldn't!" the norweigan sat up properly now with a scoff. "i would, if it meant you did not get hurt bebé." fresa promised softly, her girlfriend sighing and running a hand through her hair.

"snitches get stitches." solstråle mumbled grumpily, laying back down as her eyes began to once again feel heavy. "well you are great company today. go to sleep then, i do not care!" fresa rolled her eyes, knowing just how stubborn her girlfriend could be but not having the patience for it today, turning to leave as a hand quickly grabbed the back of her top.

"sorry! i'm just tired, and i missed you. i hate when you have exams and you have to ignore me." solstråle huffed, pulling fresa down onto the bed with her and trapping the shorter girl in between her arms and legs in a tight bear hug.

"i do not ignore you solstråle, i answered all your texts today amor, and there was a lot of them!" fresa laughed at the sudden switch in attitude from the girl, twisting her neck to sweetly peck her lips which were grumbling some sort of moody comment in norweigan.

"will you play fifa with me? i thought i was good but they have a tournament going at the station, and i haven't won a single game!" the brunette huffed, forever hotheaded and fiercely competitive as much as she could also be the softest sappy pile of mush at times too.

"do we have to? i do not have a clue how to play. in fact you and alexia told me no more playing because it was...what did you say? eh 'too hard to watch' remember?" fresa narrowed her eyes as a guilty smile curled into her girlfriends features.

one of the rare times her eldest sister actually spent any time with sol was playing fifa after a family dinner, granted that was silent bonding as alexia still refused to say more than a few words in response to solstråle's chatter.

"fresa that was ancient history, i am a much more patient woman now." solstråle grinned as the spaniard in her arms let out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter and tapped at her forearms to be let up.

"it was last week engen." fresa sat up and hovered over her girlfriend with a shake of her head, suddenly pulling back as sol tried to sit up and connect their mouths. "hey! give me a kiss." the norweigan demanded impatiently, tapping her puckered lips expectantly.

"no." fresa smiled sweetly, standing and heading out of the bedroom to make some food, not at all surprised at the sound of footsteps hurrying after her, her mami on an evening shift at work meaning the pair of them had the house to themselves for a couple more hours at least.

"solstråle!" the younger girl squealed as a body barrelled into her, almost taking her down to the floor before the well built norweigan grabbed her girlfriends hand, spinning and dipping fresa, holding her up just from falling to the floor as her heart raced.

"don't do that! its not funny." fresa hit at her girlfriends hoodie covered chest with a loud smack as she only laughed and the youngest putellas merely scowled.

trying to move past her before fresa could take another step a mouth was pressed against hers, feeling the firefighter to be smile into the kiss when fresa made no move to push her away

"you are a child sometimes. tonta!" fresa finally broke away and bonked her girlfriend on the head with a magazine that was handy within reach on the counter, only causing solstråle to smile wider, clearly proud of herself.

"food can wait, one game? it will help keep me awake." the norwegian tugged fresa gently away from the pantry with her best puppy dog eyes as fresa sighed.

"if you are turning down food, it must be serious." "please?" "fine. one game engen!"

~

"joder! how do you defend? i forget the controls!" fresa cursed in annoyance, only having had possession for about two seconds this entire half as her girlfriend knocked in goal after goal.

"solstråle!" she protested as the norweigan made her player do a backflip after another goal and cheered loudly in fresa's ear, kissing her cheek apologetically from where fresa lay between her legs, elbows resting on her knees and her back pressed to solstråles front.

"you said this would be easy." fresa complained as the game stopped for half time. "no, babe i said i would put the match settings on easy." her girlfriend corrected as fresa pinched her thigh unimpressed with the answer.

"amor you are winning 8-0 you can give me five fucking minutes to show the controls again?" fresa demanded before sol could click to resume play. "i like when you swear in english." her girlfriend mumbled, a lazy kiss pressed to her jaw as sol dropped her remote and her hands settled over fresa's.

"when you attack you click this to pass, this one to sprint. you click this one for a head pass or a short ball, and this to shoot." solstråle explained slowly, pointing out the different buttons as fresa nodded, eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

"when you defend it is this one to chase, this one to tackle, this one to slide tackle, this one to clear. then when it goes to your goalkeeper, just click this or this." the taller girl explained as again fresa nodded, doing her best to follow along but she'd already forgotten half of what was said, making a mental note to just button mash and hope.

"so does this mean you will let me have a pity goal mi vida?" fresa asked hopefully as the girl pressed behind her grabbed her own control and chuckled.

"not a chance elskling." sol stole a kiss and clicked play again before fresa could bite back with a remark, eyes widening as she hurried to rapidly click at any buttons she could reach on the controller much to her girlfriends amusement.

the second half fresa played a little better, but still failed to score and conceded another five goals making it so solstråle won with a whopping 13-0, the final whistle blowing meaning she let out a war cry of victory.

"eso fue humillante!" fresa scowled tossing the remote to the side onto the lounge and rolling her eyes, arms crossed and shoulders slumped.

"that is life no? you win some, you lose some. i feel a lot better about my games at the station now! thank you baby." the norweigans large hands settled either side of fresas face and tilted her head back so she could press kisses across the flushed skin.

"you are welcome." fresa rolled your eyes, gently tugging her hands away and sitting up, glancing to the screen only for a moment as her head snapped back to it and she frowned.

"world class? you said you put it on beginner sol!" fresa turned to glare at her girlfriend who shrugged, quickly turning off the tv and sitting up on her knees.

"did i? guess i must have clicked the wrong one babe, sorry." the norweigan grinned, pushing the shorter girl to lay down again as her smug face hovered over her girlfriends, not an ounce of remorse in her eyes.

"mentirosa! i cannot believe i like you." fresa grumbled with a scowl, solstråle pressing her face into her neck, lips scattering kisses across the warm skin.

"only like?" the norweigan whispered teasingly, tugging on fresa's earlobe with her teeth as her fingers danced across bare skin where her shirt had rode up.

"barely tolerate." fresa mumbled but all of the fire had dissapeared from her tone making solstråle smile against her neck.

"oh now what happened to love?" "maybe if you were not a dirty tramposa, you might get some engen."

[seasidefallenangel]

being fixated to you — that is the problem

they're so in love with you, but you just don't seem to get it ft. riddle rosehearts, jamil viper

notes: fluff, reader can't read between the lines, was playing amnesia and shin's whole "wanting to be seen as more than a little brother" thing... mhhhm

༄ riddle rosehearts:

napkins perfectly folded, pink flamingos elegantly roaming the lawn, hours spent practicing a tart recipe that you were sure to praise riddle for -

… instead replaced with you cooing at him like he’s some child.

“you’re so cute, rids!” you grin while pinching his cheek. if you were less close with him, you’d assume the cherry red of his face was from anger and not pure embarrassment. 

quite frankly, he’s at a loss. it couldn’t be more obvious that he loves you to the point of it hurting his chest. every attempt and compliment he gives you, earnest confessions of attraction, are simply met with laughs and something along the lines of him being, “like a cute, younger brother.”

it was mortifying.

setting his teacup on its plate, he grips the handle just a bit too tightly as his head hangs down. you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he mutters, “... is that really all you see me as?”

his hands slam on the arms of your chair and he leans in, eyes intense and expression deadly serious. it’s not as if riddle is a generally goofy person, but the sudden shift from your casual meet-up is a bit jarring.

“why do you refuse to take me seriously? am i not enough of a man for you?” he asks with desperation in his voice.

you’re taken aback at how earnestly he says it. there’s no hesitation nor even a hint of dishonesty in his words. such a blunt confession style isn’t really within his personality, but sevens is he tired of giving hints and pseudo-admissions of his unwavering devotion to you. 

“would you consider, even just once, that i truly have an interest in you?” he says, leaning in so close you would think he’s about to kiss you. he’d never do such a thing without explicit consent from you, but the thought of it is exhilarating. 

testing the waters, you offer him a teasing grin in response, boldly stating, “will you kiss me if i do?”

he freezes at your words, the severity of the situation sinking in - realizing just how much he’s invading your personal space. his typical red face is now a much softer shade of pink ; cuter, even. 

as the full weight of his actions invades every section of his brain, he opts to just mumble, “... maybe later,” before sitting back down and stewing in his own humiliation.

༄ jamil viper:

“you’re making a mess,” jamil chides you lightly, tenderly swiping a napkin across your cheek to clean the remnants of the dolma he made you for dinner. it was rare for scarabia’s dining hall to be deserted so early in the night, but you were grateful for a more peaceful setting than usual. (he told the entire dorm he’ll stick laxatives in every meal for the next month if a single one of them bothered you both tonight. none of them wanted to find out if he meant it.)

jamil’s eyes are trained on you while you lift the fork for another bite and a sigh follows him as more of the glaze drips down your mouth. he presses the napkin to you once more and quietly admonishes, “where would you be without me?”

you swallow and playfully poke his nose while responding, “lost, probably. you’re like a reliable baby brother, y’know?”

the smile on his face drops in an instant and he clenches his teeth, shutting his eyes for a few moments. the reaction is so unexpected that you’re unsure of how to even follow up until he speaks. “you’re an absolute fool.”

he slowly stands, placing his hands on the table with you in between them. his legs slot against your own and you can feel the wood from the table’s edge pressing into your back, but the pain doesn’t register as he gets closer to you.

“between you and kalim,” he says while holding your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, “i must have a penchant for attracting idiots to my side. do you honestly think all of this was done simply in good faith and nothing else?”

to his credit, he has a point. jamil isn’t exactly a selfless person (not by choice, anyway) but he’s not easy to read either. if there was some kind of hidden intent, you sure as hell weren’t gonna find it.

“humor me for a moment,” comes his low voice while his forehead rests against yours. “if that’s all i’ll ever be to you, if you’ll never give me the grace of being viewed as a true suitor for your hand, then tell me now so i can stop wasting my time on inevitable failure.”

a proper answer evades you completely. jamil has never struck you as someone with romantic interest in anything, nevermind you specifically  — but that doesn’t mean you’re against being in a relationship with him.

“what if i do see you in that way, then?” you ask with a growing grin, curious to see how far this adrenaline rush will take him. 

when his lips eagerly descend onto yours, his thumb moving to press against the junction of your throat, you find out how tough it is to swallow your own words.

[hellowoolf]

something, somehow, someday

chapter 2: near miss | prev | next | series masterlist

series summary: you know you will love satoru for the rest of your life, but when you wake with his cursed energy in your navel there is no option but to flee. what future is there for a child of a god? at 18 satoru is without you, and you make off with a piece of him you hoped he'd never meet.

pairing: secret baby daddy!gojo x reader

tags: secret child trope, angst (lots), eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, takara is my little baby, shoko showing emotion (scary)

a/n: i have the sense i should be spacing these chapters out more but i'm enjoying it too much. i hope you like :)

18+! minors dni <3

~~~~~~~

2012

YOU suspect that training takara here, practically in public, is a terrible idea, though you hardly have another option. the park by your apartment is by no means sprawling, but it fills only sparsely with people, and there are places to hide. the lot backs up to an office building on one side, so in between the trees there you can compose some version of privacy. the leaves tremble around you now, trees frenetic, greener, with the small makings of your hands. 

with a pointer finger sunk a half inch in the soil, you conjure a small root and make it dance at takara’s folded legs where he sits. you speak softly to him, always, “focus.”

his eyes squeeze shut as he braces himself against the ground. “i am,” he tells you. his hair, grown in as platinum as you knew it would, catches the waning light as it crests the horizon; he is painted orange, glowing as he shears. you twist the root and begin poking at his legs softly. his skin dimples with each moment of contact and he bows himself further into his effort.

“don’t strain, bubba,” you remind him. he strains.

“i don’t feel anything,” he whines, little face folded in on itself. 

you cannot help but assure him, “yes, you do.” 

he tosses his hands up and flops onto his back, palms stained a little from the grass he’d wrung between them. “no, i don’t!” you let your root go. his eyes, blinking at you now, are a curtain; they cut through the evening’s pink light. 

“this is inside of you, takara. you’ve done it before!” he doesn’t seem particularly interested in that fact, huffing at you quietly. unlike you at this age, and you suspect unlike his father, takara is bound to his small failures; he remembers them. you brush your knuckle down his nose. “we can go home.”

he nods, quietly collecting himself, and clambors to stand. it’s been weeks of this work for only a few, precious moments of success, but in this, too, you are choiceless. you could see the moment limitless began manifesting in him, a maw of energy pried open with time, and it would be negligent not to teach him how to use it.

of course, you don’t know how to use it. not really, anyway. your instructions come out misshapen, distorted things scraped off your memories with satoru as teenagers. there is a small and saccharine delight you take in this regardless; takara is a student of his father’s, and you’re the only one who knows. you take takara’s hand as you make your way home, bent at the waist to meet him. 

he is still a sun in your grasp, still so damningly his father’s son, still so different from either of you. he is quiet, takes a great deal of time deciding—though you suppose that bit is from you—and easily frustrated. he is resilient, too; you don’t know from which of you he inherited that. your takara. you are so devastatingly endeared to him.

the walk is short and quiet back to your apartment, and with the cafe being within a block, too, you only rarely leave your neighborhood. it’s best this way, you think; you have brought up a new world for yourself and for takara, one that needn’t overtly touch what you left behind. you’ve never seen anyone you used to know here.

you know you are still recognizable. your shoes, in the first place, give you away, and anyone attuned to cursed energy would know immediately the sort of masking ability they have on your technique, that you are a thing to be tamed. in a more intimate sense, too, anyone who knew you in high school would recognize them by appearance alone. the sound of them resonates on the sidewalk, cushioned in between by the soft footfalls of takara’s sneakers. 

you only notice now that he has braced himself to ask you something.

“mama,” he begins. your neighborhood passes slowly around you and you squeeze his little hand tighter to tell him you're listening. he continues, “your technique is different from mine.”

something in your spine locks. he is not asking; it’s leveled at you much more like an accusation. you nod, and take stock of his face. you can almost see the words in his mouth as he forms them.

“who…who has my technique?” 

you’ve arrived home now, and take the moment finding your keys like the reprieve it is. the clinking sound echoes softly against your door and you usher him inside.

this is not the first time he’s asked you this, or some version of this, and you would be terrible to blame him. to the best of your ability you have tried to understand the sensation of unearthing something wholly unnatural and singular; he cannot see this part of himself, his technique, in you. you wonder whether this makes him afraid, and then admonish yourself immediately. of course it does.

you sit beside him to remove his shoes and yours. part of you wants to admit the whole gory mess of it, present the truth to him, five-years-old and a sage to you. but another part of you, the part that wins, cannot bear that either. you tell him what you always tell him. “your dad has your technique and another one,” you press a finger beneath each of his eyes, twice on each side, “called the six eyes.” the affection in your voice is so easy to hear, you cannot help it. you don’t even try.

takara nods. he has never asked you why he cannot meet his father, though you are sure that day will come. for now, he is still young enough that he cannot altogether perceive the irregularities of his situation. he asks, instead: “when did his start working?”

you sink into that question further than you care to admit. it is an impossible truth to reconcile: for all you felt for him then, satoru was too enormous a thing to really learn. at the time of your pregnancy, the three years spent with him spanned so much of your life, and it felt almost noble to love a thing so wholly invisible. but now, in the face of this child who you love so fiercely, and against the nearly six years that have passed since you left, your not knowing no longer feels so generous. you almost pity yourself for how unendingly you pledged yourself to him. almost.

because even still, even now, you remember what it felt like to be so irrevocably in love. you can’t even discern for certain if you still are; or, more accurately, you cannot quite confirm for yourself that you aren’t. how could you? you meet his eyes every day. takara still waits for your answer.

“honestly, i don’t really know.” you flatten a wrinkle in his shirt with your palm. “but i know he tried every day.” takara’s eyes narrow; he senses you’re trying to teach him something. “and he never got mad at his mom, and he always did what she asked,” you add with a growing grin.

takara groans, high pitched and squeaky, as he putters away, and you giggle as he goes.

~~~~~~~

it is with a cold and leadened weight that SATORU assesses shoko in his doorway. each arm braced on the opening, she stands tilted in on herself, unsteady, like her center of gravity has moved. she looks more animalistic than he’s ever seen her, and given her typical affectless disposition, a great terror washes over him. eyes wild, she says only, “i need to talk to you.”

satoru is well and fully taut as he nods her in, but he is still himself, and so he tries to ease the tension: “lay it on me, boss.”

shoko all but buckles into the seat in front of his desk. “i don’t even know—shit,” she stumbles. “god, i don’t even know how to tell you, gojo.”

his eyebrows pinch together. “what does that even mean?”

“i don’t want to hurt you.”

“are you planning on hurting me?” he prods, smirking a little despite everything.

shoko cannot answer his question. she purses her lips, sucks on her teeth, looks for something to unstick. it comes loose, at last: “i found him, i think.”

and it’s been almost six years, but it takes satoru only a moment to know exactly what she means. there’s only ever been one person he’s sent her looking for.

he remembers his hopeless drowning when he first felt it, that greedy warmth which made him convinced a family member was close by. and the feeling never ceased so much as he became familiar with it; but satoru drowns again now. the vice grip inside him flexes and tears. his face grows pleading as he asks, “who?”

shoko can only shake her head and wave him out of his office. “i won’t tell you until i can see for sure.” and gojo is so desperate he cannot bear, even, to complain.

they leave the jujutsu tech grounds that way, shoko still strung with tension but seemingly relaxed, at least slightly, by now sharing the burden. and satoru, a sinking man, clawing with each step towards…whoever it is. the sky threatens to open and pour above them.

to pass the time on the way—shoko, difficult as she is, would not reveal their destination either—he considers what his options are. surely his life would be changed upon arrival, he thinks. yes, someone with enough cursed energy to alert him would be worth meeting in the cosmic sense. ignoring the glaring fact that he knows his own lineage, satoru cannot help but wonder who it is, cannot help but hope. he knows, of course, that anyone precluded from his studied family tree, ostensibly by treason or worse, could not sate this embarrassing desire for kinship. 

but still, satoru is hungry for family, a terrible appetite he has mostly suppressed. in megumi and tsumiki he has found it, and satoru, boundless, wants more. he has leashed himself so tightly all this time, in his power and his work and his personal life, but as he sets off with shoko towards the center of tokyo, his grip, white-knuckled, gives. 

~~~~~~~

YOU almost don’t take takara out for training; the sky groans and bloats above you and you don’t want him caught in the rain. but he’d pleaded with you to go—you choose not to comment on your victory in that—and you suppose the park is close enough to avoid drenching you both if the rain does come. 

in the grey mist there are few people out. huddled again between the treeline and the office building, you poke at takara’s leg with a conjured iris as he braces with the labor. you see the contact once, twice, a third time, and his frustration crests just so. you can hear the whistle of grass between his fingers as he squeezes and kneads himself into an attempt at cooperation. and then—

your iris stands pacified, still, a centimeter from his shin. you push a little, and then a lot. it doesn’t move.

for all your deliberation, you find yourself incapable of describing completely the look on takara’s face when you lift your gaze. at the beginning of his life, every moment was new and enormous, but now, at five, it is noticeably less often that you find him completely unrecognizable. but you feel it now, watching the sincere and incandescent pride wash over his face, tempered only by a split second of surprise. it is a world-ending look, his whole face open with it; he has never looked so pleased with himself, never been so profoundly relieved. you have half a mind to weep for the rest of your life. you smile instead, as wide as you can manage.

“takara,” you begin, soft. you find you’re afraid to frighten him somehow. he doesn’t even respond with words, surging forward on his knees to hug you, cackling to himself.

“i did it! i did it!”

you laugh now, too. “you did it!”

“mama, you saw! you saw it!”

“yes, bubba, i did!”

he squeals as you squish him between your arms, the two of you reduced to lunacy in the face of this terrifying power that your child, for a moment, towed enough to move. what sanity could you find in this? this moment feels very much like takara’s coronation, king of nothing, son of god. 

you breathe, at last, in the knowing that takara will be capable of his own protection. as inevitable as he emerged before you five years ago, you feel certain now that he will survive you, too. the relief entirely all-consuming, you are blind with it, almost numb. 

takara stills suddenly in your arms and straightens, looking over your shoulder. but you can’t feel a thing.

~~~~~~~

let me know if you'd like to be added, and i hope you enjoyed! <3 also i know i'm a less-is-more kind of fic writer as it relates to context so if you ever have questions just ask hehe

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[homeofthelonelywriter]

gamer!Ghost x f!gamer!reader | Previous Part

This was a bad idea. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you stood in front of the train station and waited for any sign of Simon. Your train had arrived early, and you messaged him as soon as you realized that, but he had yet to show up. Part of you was starting to worry if he was pranking you. Maybe even filming you for a video. But when a motorbike came to a stop right in front of you, you knew that he wasn’t pranking you. You smiled as he got off and walked over to you with confidence. He stopped right in front of you, his hands settling on your hip as if it were the most natural thing to do.

“’ello, love.” You couldn’t help but grin up at him. “Hey, Si.” He still had his helmet on, but the visor was up, so you could see the crinkling skin around his eyes as he smiled. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Still grinning, you nodded, linking your fingers with his as he caught your hand to lead you back to his bike. There, he pulled an extra helmet out of thin air. “Ever had one on?” You quickly shook your head no, but Simon just smiled.

“Okay, look up for me.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed his pointer finger under your chin and tilted your head back. With ease, he slid the helmet over your head and got to work, closing the buckle and making sure everything fit well. You felt like one of those girls in the TikToks you saw sometimes, feeling yourself blush underneath the helmet.

Once Simon was happy with everything, he gently bonked his head against yours before closing your visor. He then showed you how to get on and how to act while riding. “Sorry, I wanted to pick you up with my truck, but getting it through traffic would’ve been a nightmare, and I didn’t want to leave you waiting any longer.” You smiled as he helped you swing your leg over the machine, before settling your arms around his waist. “All good, Si. Just glad you’re here.” He looked over his shoulder at you, and gently padded your hand, before starting the bike. The vibrations scared you for a second, but adrenaline quickly filled your veins, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Hold on, yeah?” I nodded against his back, and then we took off.

Riding was…exhilarating. The wind in your hair, the blurring of cars and buildings around you. And Simon, right there, right underneath your hands. You couldn’t help but move them around from time to time, grabbing his muscular tits, drumming on the bike in front of him when you were at a red light, et cetera. Sometimes, you even felt Simon chuckle under your hands.

But all too soon, it was over, and you pulled into a driveway. Once the bike was off and Simon had kicked down the stand, he helped you off before following you. “How was it?” You chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. “Amazing! It was so much fun, I want to do it again!” This got him laughing as he gently tilted your head up again, working on opening the strap, so he could get you free. While he was working, you couldn’t help but hold onto his hoodie, both fists curled up in the material. Simon quickly noticed, but didn’t say anything, instead, he stepped even closer.

Once the strap was open, he pulled your helmet off your head, and only then did you notice that it said your name in small letters on the back. “Is this…?” He glanced at it before shrugging. “Had to get you one. Couldn’t have given you one of the ones my mates use. They stink.” You chuckled and watched as he took his own helmet off, revealing half of his face. Finally, you could see him. And you just smiled at him, so long until he cleared his throat, the tips of his ears slightly red.

“Do I…do I have something on my face?” You chuckled and shook your head. “No…no, sorry. I just…hi.” His eyes betrayed the smile hidden underneath the mask as he looked at you. “Hi, love.” You continued to stare there, just staring and smiling at each other, until the bark of a dog pulled you out of the moment. Only then did you notice the cold wind and start to shiver. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?” You nodded and followed, but only after you had handed your backpack, which had everything you needed to stay with him for a few days, to Simon. “Not gonna let you carry stuff, lovie.” You would be lying if you said you didn’t swoon when he said that.

Next Part

A/N: This is a shorter one, sorry about that. I just got started with an immunosuppressive therapy today and also got two shots, so I'm feeling very sleepy, forgive me! I hope you still enjoy it! Also, let me know if you want to be on the perma taglist! Just say if you want all of COD or specific characters. Although I mostly post Ghost.

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