Turn Back Time, To The Good Old Days
turn back time, to the good old days
✢summary: a curse hits megumi and gojo reacts accordingly
✢tags: fushiguro megumi and gojo satoru, nobara pov
✢tw: child abandonment issues?
✢a/n: lets all take a break from whatever the fuck gege akutami has been recently writing. i hope I did dad gojo justice.
Nobara knows she’s fucked as soon as she sees Fushiguro disappear. Her eyes watch in mild horror as her classmate shrinks so quickly until all that is left of him is his uniform.
Itadori was the first to react, shouting a panicked “Fushiguro!” before running towards the pile of clothes.
The door to Shoko-san’s infirmary burst open, revealing an irritated Nobara, followed by Itadori who still had baby Fushiguro in his arms. The child had stopped crying after they passed school gates- maybe he recognized jujutsu tech?- and had settled for wet sniffles instead. Nobara has never seen Fushiguro so pathetic.
Shoko-san was, unsurprisingly, seated behind her desk with papers. She looked at them at the sound of her doors opening, but before she could even talk, Gojo-sensei appeared out of nowhere with his signature annoying grin.
“Yoho~ how did the mission go? I’m sure it went well. I taught you everything you know!”
Nobara could feel her face morphing into an automatic frown. Things were hectic enough as it is, and she didn’t want this moron to ruin baby Fushiguro’s mood any further. They had just endured an hour-and-a-half car ride with a panicked Fushiguro, who insisted on being unconsolable and crying the entire ride back. She just came from a grueling mission. She was sure some of baby Fushiguro’s saliva, and snot landed in her somehow, and if this grandpa-looking sensei of hers made things even worse, she might explode.
“Eh? Megumi?” Gojo sensei asked in confusion after finally noticing the significantly smaller boy. Gojo Satoru’s gaze looks blankly at Itadori’s arms where a smaller Fushiguro is being carried.
As if on cue, Fushiguro breaks out in a full-on wail and cries louder than he ever did in the car.
Nobara already had her trusty hammer in hand, ready to smack the living hell out of her sensei, until she noticed Fushiguro desperately wiggling out of Itadori’s grasp. Both Nobara and Itadori share a confused look before her classmate puts baby Fushiguro down.
As soon as his bare feet touched the cold, sterile floor of the infirmary, Nobara watched in awe as Fushiguro dashed away from them as quickly as he could. It was almost comical how fast he managed to get his tiny feet to run quickly. If this was a cartoon, a cloud of smoke would have been left in his trail.
With his hands out open and eyes wet with a flood of tears, baby Fushiguro rushed to Gojo-sensei, who, to Nobara and Itadori’s surprise, was already squatting down for the boy with arms spread out. Gojo caught Fushiguro easily, one big hand immediately going behind Fushiguro’s head and the other on his back.
“Why did you leave me?” The boy wails, crying on their sensei’s shoulder. “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”
Fushiguro’s voice cracks at the end of his accusation, and Gojo’s face crumples in a rare show of vulnerability. He shifts, both hands going under Fushiguro’s armpits as Gojo stands. Small, chubby fingers tug his blindfold down, and Gojo-sensei’s blue eyes stare almost lovingly at the crying child with concern. Fushiguro clings to him as if his life depended on it, his tiny fists clenching their sensei’s uniform.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo-sensei coos, swaying slightly from side to side. Gojo makes sure Fushiguro is looking at him before making a show of slapping his hand on his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”
Nobara’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Gojo-sensei seemed to have done everything with ease as their baby-fied classmate was now calming down in his arms.
“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!” Fushiguro seethes and pulls the angriest scowl he can muster. But then, with another quieter and sadder voice, he reminds Gojo of his previous accusation. “You left.”
“I didn’t leave you,” Gojo corrects him in a softer tone of voice. His hand reaches up to Fushiguro and smoothes out his spiky hair as the child looks at him with slight distrust. The small boy has stopped wailing. Nobara has never seen her sensei so tender. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”
Nobara blinks. Since he got- what is going on? She opens her mouth to speak but stops as a quiet voice asks Gojo a question.
“But you will?” Fushiguro asks with his pitch high, threatening another onslaught of tears.
Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.
Fushiguro looks at their sensei in distrust, internally debating if he should believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”
“Even then,” Gojo answers easily. Fushiguro’s shoulders visibly relax, and he lets himself melt on Gojo’s chest. The older sorcerer puts back a cheery tone as soon as he notices Fushiguro calms down. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”
A small smile appears on Shoko-san’s face as baby Fushiguro waves shyly embarrassed that she has seen him throw a tantrum. Nobara thinks it’s her first time seeing her smile. But then Shoko-san glances back at them, and the smile disappears.
Somehow, Nobara feels a little guilty. She knows she probably intruded in a scene meant for Gojo and Fushiguro…whatever they are. But it’s not like she had a choice!
Shoko sighs. “Alright, you two,” she ushers them away with a few flicks of her wrist. “We’ll take it from here.”
Gojo-sensei’s head snaps in their direction, so engrossed with Fushiguro that he almost forgot Nobara and Itadori were still in the room. His blue eyes feel like a spotlight, piercing through them threateningly.
The air feels heavy and almost suffocating, and Nobara feels her shackles rise as her hand twitches for her hammer. It took her a while to realize that the pressure was Gojo-sensei’s cursed energy. Nobara’s instincts whisper at her to run.
Behind her, Itadori reads the situation first and bows in a hurry. He is as likely ready to change out of his snot-filled uniform as she is as eager to escape their deranged sensei. “See you later, Gojo-sensei! Bye-bye Fushiguro!”
Itadori snatches Nobara’s hand just as she finishes her clumsy bow. As she lightly runs to her dorms, the thought of a fresh shower chases away any lingering thoughts of what happened.
-
Gojo feels as though he has traveled back in time. He is frozen in both shock and awe as Megumi, once a tall, lanky, and cranky teenager, has been reduced to a barely four-foot-tall child, his eyes streaming with tears at the sight of him.
As if on instinct, Gojo dropped down to his height- a very helpful tip he read from one of those parenting books he read in a panic after he realized he was the textbook definition of a teen dad- and opened his arms.
He sees Megumi sprint, and Gojo has been in this situation a few times before to know that Megumi was about to launch him a rare hug. Not even a moment later, Megumi was all over him. His hands immediately wrap around the boy.
Gojo knows that he is acting on pure selfishness. He knows something is wrong. For one, Megumi is tiny, and second, his Six Eyes sense a lingering feel of foreign cursed energy. He knows he should be more concerned, checking if his students are alright, but Megumi is sobbing in his arms like he used to a decade ago. In his accumulated knowledge of him, Gojo knows that Megumi is a shy boy, and it takes a lot for him to openly demand his affection and comfort. Gojo is more than happy to deliver.
He caresses Megumi’s hair, and Gojo ignores the way his heart sings. He hasn’t seen this Megumi in a long time, and the boy has long refused his affection.
Before Gojo could ask him what was wrong, Megumi’s watery voice echoes throughout Ieiri’s infirmary. “Why did you leave me?” He cries, “I woke up, and I d-didn’t know where I w-was! You promised never to do that! You promised!”
Ah, Gojo thinks as he feels his heart ache. He knows what this is. Megumi has spent most of his early life witnessing too many people come and leave. If he was correct, which he always ways, Megumi has regressed back in age and memory. Gojo couldn’t help but wonder how he must have felt when he awoke with many unfamiliar people. He knows Megumi assumed he had left him then, just like everyone else.
Gojo lifts Megumi with him as he stands, a hand going under his thighs to support the small boy. Megumi tugs down his blindfold, and Gojo lets him. He does not even realize he’s already swaying Megumi from side to side. His body still remembers how to soothe him.
“You’re right, you’re right,” Gojo says in an admonishing tone before dramatically slapping his forehead. “Stupid Gojo-san, he forgot his most precious ‘Gumi! What am I going to do?”
He does not mind playing the fool for Megumi’s state of mind. When he assumed guardianship over Megumi and his sister, Gojo thought of his role as a simple one. He is their benefactor, one that comes over on a rare weekend to leave money for the Fushiguros to sustain themselves. But one weekend turned into two, and Gojo found himself craving the noise and warmth of the Fushiguro household.
“I’m not precious to you at all, so stop calling me that!”
Oh, how could he even comprehend what he meant to him? Has he forgotten how Gojo learned how to cook to make onigiri-shaped divine dogs for his daily bento? Has he forgotten the movie nights spent on the couch sandwiched between him and Tsumiki? Did he not remember those nights Megumi knocked on his door at night, scared to sleep in his room because his Tsumiki-nee-san was in camp? The animal band-aids? The glow-in-the-dark stickers stuck in his room ceiling?
Gojo watches as Megumi sniffs, eyes darting away from his gaze. His grip on Gojo’s uniform falters. “You left me.”
“I would never leave you,” he says. A memory intrudes his mind with a Megumi similar to this one in front of him. He was angry, his face red with rage, as he hit little fists, landing soft punches on Gojo’s stomach. Gojo didn’t mean to come home late. “Haven’t left you ever since I got you.”
Instead of being relieved, he could have felt Megumi’s heartbreak. He breathes shakily and asks in a tone that tries to conceal his panic and anger- “But you will?”
Gojo shakes his head without hesitation. “No,” he insists.
Fushiguro looks at him in distrust, internally debating whether to believe him. His blue eyes shine as he peeks through his lashes to look at Gojo’s unwavering gaze. He asks with a quiet and unsure voice, “Even when I’m bad?”
Gojo thinks of his almost weekly meetings with Megumi’s high school as he beats other students in a pulp. He thinks of Megumi stretching his arms out, curling his hands to fists, ready to resign himself to a certain death.
“Even then,” he whispers to the boy like it was their little secret. He makes his voice loud and cheery as Gojo exclaims his next words. “Fellow sorcerers brought you back to me, right? And look!” He shifts Megumi towards Shoko-san’s direction. “Aunt Ieiri is here!”
Megumi avoids her gaze and stares at her pristine white coat instead. He offers her a small wave, and Gojo watches as Ieiri gives a him gentle smile.
A wave of appreciation rolls over him as he realizes that Megumi has as many memories of her as he does with him. Gojo feels so stupid when he thinks about the moments when he thought he was lonely. He had two people in this room who loved him as much as he did them. Then, for a brief moment, his brain scolds him for not remembering his precious little girl who loves him infinitely even when asleep. He hopes she’ll wake soon.
“Alright, you two. We’ll take it from here.”
Immediately, Gojo freezes in panic. His instinct sets his Infinity to engulf Megumu and Ieiri. His next thought was- how did they sneak up on me? Gojo panics as he realizes they have seen him cradling Megumi, consoling him with all the gentleness he could muster. They have witnessed his weakness. They have already taken one from him, and Gojo would be damned if anyone takes another child.
His Six Eyes snap at the two intruders, and it takes him—oh, it’s his students. And they are already half-running towards the door.
As soon as the infirmary doors shut to a close, Gojo feels the heated gaze of his friend.
“You didn’t have to scare them like that,” she scolds. “Now they’ll have more questions after Fushiguro’s back to normal.”
Gojo does feel a vague sense of guilt. He didn’t mean to have his students feel threatened by him. He was just caught unaware for the first time in a long time. It didn’t help that Megumi suddenly became smaller and more affectionate, reminding him of precious memories. His brain had thought there was a Fushiguro Toji-level threat like it does every time someone close comes to him without noticing.
“It’ll fade away in a few hours or days, by the way,” Shoko murmurs, her hands going for a cigarette. “He’ll be back to normal in a few. But you already knew that.”
Gojo slaps her hand before she even reaches a cigarette. Shoko takes one look at Megumi and sighs. She takes in the sight before her.
“Feeling sentimental?” She asks.
Gojo hugs Megumi a little tighter. He closes his eyes and lets himself hold the child. Gojo breathes in his scent and relishes the feeling of his child in his arms. He feels Megumi’s spiky hair softly poking his neck, his warmth; he faintly smells Megumi’s childhood shampoo. He feels Megumi squeeze back. “Let me have this.”
Teenage Megumi would never let him hug him with this much vulnerability, which was fine. Gojo loves teenage Megumi as much as he loves this child version of him, but he rarely asks for him anymore. It makes Gojo feel silly to reminisce like he’s past 50 years old when he’s just 27, but in his humble and correct opinion- he was a teenage dad.
“Never do that again,” Megumi scolds him, voice a little muffled. “I’ll hate you if you do. I’ll hate you. I will.” Each word spoken was more determined after the next, bringing another smile to Gojo’s face. They both know Megumi does not mean it. They both know Gojo would never leave him. Not willingly.
lmk what you think! i'd love to hear comments, your thoughts and whatever this fic made you feel. i'd also appreciate constructive criticism <33
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OHH I GOT A GOOD ANGST ONE INSPIRED BY ALL THE KAMADO SLANDER!
What if during their missions the hero befriends this pack of hitsuian zoarks and zoras?
They have helped this pack many times during their missions and the pack has grown to care for their dear human friend.
But when you get banished hell has frozen over and what if you were seriously hurted during the banishment?
On top of the mountain everyone even thoughs who helped you will see an illusion of you dying body as the leader of the pack inches towards kamado scarring him for his actions!
Enjoy my fuckery!
Reader is gender neutral, the only she is the alpha Zoroark. Mentions of blood but nothing descriptive.
-
-
You don’t know what you did to deserve being banished, you only did what you were told.
No matter who stood up for you, they were instantly silenced to threatened with war, and that wasn’t something you wanted for any of those you still care for.
You didn’t know what else to do.
You weren’t given the chance to pack your things, or anything at all really, just whatever you had on you at the time.
The clans nor their leaders could help you.
So you wondered around, trying to find something, anything that could help you prove you innocence.
That drive lead you to the Alabaster Icelands.
Snowpoint temple seemed old enough to carry some secrets, maybe you could find something there?
While you set up your own little campsite in a cave you hear something, a curious sounding whine before it morphs into a happy yip.
Looking behind you, you see a little zoura you helped a while ago, if the cut out of their ear was anything to go by.
“Hey little buddy.”
You coo softly, but the small Pokémon senses something wrong, letting out a small whine, more zouras show up.
Ah, it’s the entire pack you’ve helped over the months.
You remember healing them when you found them and handing them back to a very angry and cautious alpha.
Speaking of, a louder, deeper grumble greets you.
The other zouras and Zoroarks of the pack form a soft circle around you, just as the alpha Zoroark makes her appearance.
“Hello to you too mama.”
The family looks at you, all letting out various sad or comforting sounds. The larger Zoroark curls around you, in an effort to keep you warm.
“Thank you.”
It’s funny being held like this. Your thoughts begin to tumble and before you know you, you’re sobbing into the fluffy mane of the Zoroark around you.
You cried your heart out to the whining pack, venting about all that has happened.
Your banishment.
You betrayal.
Your heartache.
They left it all.
The alpha Zoroark rubbed her cheek against your, wrapping herself up in your scarf before moving away. She stood up, speaking to her children before most of the zoroarks left, not without giving you a nuzzle.
One Zoroark was left to keep watch over you and the zouras.
You cried a little more, hugging and cuddling with your new family before falling asleep, surrounded by their fluffy warmth.
You sleep safe and protected, completely unaware of what is yet to come.
The pack of zoroarks quickly move in towards the village.
The have arrived by the next night.
The alpha looks down at the scarf you have yet to notice she took.
They hurt her pup.
They left her pup abandoned in the wilderness to suffer the same fate as her.
They will not be forgiven.
The meeting between the commander and clan leaders was dragging on.
It was late but no progress was being made.
Kamado sighs at Irida and Adaman’s stubbornness, the two were still upset about his ruling over you.
“It’s been almost a week! No one as heard from them, let alone see them!” Adaman’s patience is wearing thin.
“What if something happened to them? These lands aren’t exactly kind.”
Irida was worried, she heard from Lian that the day of you banishment you asked for her, but due to Kamado’s orders he couldn’t help and you left.
You are her dear friend, she hopes you’re safe.
Adaman’s anger is only to mask his fear, Irida is right, these lands aren’t kind, and with you by yourself, with no guards or professor on the look out for you, who knows what could happen.
The door to the side suddenly flings open.
A powerful burst of malicious pressure forcing it open.
Red claws grip the door frame, the Zoroark lowers herself to enter the office.
Before any made a move the gasp.
That’s your scarf, that’s your galaxy uniform scarf that you never took off.
Slowly the Zoroark morphs into you, a blood stained you.
“…..hero?” Irida’s voice breaks, her hands over he mouth with tears stinging her eyes.
Adaman and Kamado stand shocked and horrified at the realization.
It’s you.
“Why did you do this to me?” It’s your voice, it sounds so uncanny.
Your eyes however stay that stark yellow, glaring down the commander.
“I-I didn’t!- I-“
“I will give you a fate like mine.”
The threes face’s paled, neither clan leader’s teams were strong enough to take on such a strong, angry foe.
A part of them didn’t want to. It was you after all, you had every right to be angry.
They stare at the Zoroark’s illusion. It had to be you, the creature had your scarf after all.
You didn’t seem to have any open injuries, but the blood showed just where you were hit.
Adaman felt like puking at the thought of your pain.
With all the commotion, Cyllene and Laventon burst in.
Laventon’s loud cry startled the Zoroark, bringing her attention toward the other door.
Was that your pack mate you spoke fondly of?
“Everyone get back! Abra!”
Ah these the strict one you spoke of as well.
She lunges, breaking her illusion and going for Kamado’s throat.
But Abra teleports him out of the room just in time.
With a loud snark and howl, the village echoes in several howls.
“If you hadn’t banished them this wouldn’t be happening!”
“How was I suppose to know they’d be killed and turned into THAT!?”
“Are you so closed off you don’t see the world you live in anymore!?”
Kamado argues with Irida and Adman, he didn’t think this would happen.
“Enough! We need to take ever safety precaution we have. Zoroarks are dangerous, we won’t know who’s one until they slip up.”
Cyllene quickly takes over the situation.
“Lock down the village and get everyone inside this building state!”
“Yes ma’am!” Galaxy guards run out to round everyone up, alarms are being signaled and the lock down commences.
Hours into the lock down, well into the next morning, everything seems fine.
Kamado spent most of it dealing with the villagers, ignoring the harsh glares being sent his way by the other leaders, Cyllene, and Laventon.
His mind only replaying what happened yesterday.
You couldn’t be dead…could you? Though why else would a pack of zoroarks come to his village? They always stay in the Icelands.
The realization that he had a hand in your demise, seeing a ghostly you, so angry at him.
It made his heart sink.
The commander does his best to make sure that side door stays locked up tight. He always checks to make sure it stays that way, in fear it’ll open and you’ll be standing there, ready to finish the job.
-
With food secured and their mother’s actions done, the pack heads back to their den.
The alpha lets out a soft coo at the sight of you playing with the other pups.
“Oh! Welcome back.”
You holy in surprise when each Zoroark drops human food by you.
“Is that what y’all left for?”
You look at them confused as she nudges you towards it.
“Well, thank you!” You gave some of them some pets before eating some of the food.
Looking over to the mother of the pack you chuckle.
“I was wondering where my scarf went, though you can keep it, it matches you!”
Your chuckle turns into a laugh as she licks your face, fully trying to give you a bath.
Maybe staying here won’t be so bad.
TOTK related content ahead lmao
Zonai AU where Link just fuckin turns into a goat. oops divine power causes issues
spoilerish content sorta:
tough as nails ᵕ̈ boyfie!msby boys x nail tech!gn reader ˎˊ˗
⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : when you want ⋮⋮ to practice some designs ⋮⋮ and they volunteer them- ⋮⋮ selves as your test dummy !
📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛 ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 🥛 ♡ # ~2.5𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴
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💬 kuroppiii ─ “ ik that ' s not really the context of the saying in the title but i couldn ' t think of anything else ! nail pics as with all my other header pics are from pinterest <3 also lmk if you want to see more characters for this prompt bc highkey i loveee looking through nail designs lol ”
︴hinata shōyō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°
this is not this man's first time around some nail polish
natsu used to paint his nails all the time, so he’s so down!
big color inspo from the colors of a classic blue and yellow mikasa volleyball because of his love for the sport (obvi)
howeverrr switching out the yellow for a bit more of an orange hue to go with his hair <3
also!!! some tropical floral designs as an homage to his time in brazil
a super fun vibe for a bright and go-lucky guy :)
when you first take his hand in yours, the tips of his ears start to redden a little bit
"hey shō are your ears alright–?" [you]
"your hands are so soft." [hinata]
"okay, shō." [you] (totally not fighting back a smile)
he's held your hand countless times but for some reason this–you holding his hand so gently and focusing in on it as you start prepping his nail beds–feels so much more intimate
seeing your face as you're so focused on him and his hands makes him blush lowk but good thing you're looking down and can't see how flustered he obviously is
like for someone so talkative, he's silent and almost as attentive as you the whole time and he's not even the one doing the work
you also notice he holds his breath every time you make the nail polish make contact with his nails until you finally lift back up CUTIEEE
“love, you know you can breathe, right?” [you]
“i don’t want to mess you up though! you’re doing so great by the way, babe.” [hinata]
cups your face when his nails are finally set and dry and you can see his eyes dart between your facial features and his nails contrasting against your skin and his smile gets bigger in real time
then he gives you a biggg kiss as a thank you for your hard work
definitely goes to every one of his teammates in the msby locker room his next practice to show them the nails
on tvs, cellphones, laptops and countless other kinds of screens everywhere: the camera following the msby jackals' game whips around to land their sights on hinata shōyō.
ten seconds remain on the clock. the jackals are behind their opponents by the most miniscule handful of points. in a last-ditch effort, atsumu's in place, and in a matter of seconds hinata is already high in the air.
the ball is met with a collision from the redhead's hand and quickly surpasses any of the opposition's lines of defense. an abrasive buzzer blares throughout the area and the msby jackals all start to jump onto one another with screams and yells and high fives in celebration.
"another excellent shot by hinata! what a way for the jackals to clutch this game folks!" a commentator excitedly blabbers.
"let's take another look at that one, shall we?" another accompanying commentator beckons.
time slows on screen during the instant replay–from the moment hinata gets in front of the net, to the moment his feet leave the ground, and especially as his arm is reeled back moments before the winning shot.
the camera takes the liberty of zooming in on hinata’s hand then. it captures the precise moment when his purest love and energy for volleyball surges through his body. the unseen electricity has ricocheted throughout him to finally trail up to his fingertips, adorned with colors that showcase the blend of his identity with the same ball his skin almost adoringly caresses for a second in the eyes on the slow-mo cam footage.
blue and yellow, blue and orange side-by-side in front of thousands and millions of eyes to witness as the ninja shōyō’s manicured hand follows through and pushes that volleyball past the net to bring his team to victory.
︴sakusa kiyoomi ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°
as babygirl as sakusa kiyoomi is, black’s just really his vibe i think
not on like some emo shit but the black would go really well with not only his hair but his iconic beauty marks above his eye
speaking of his hair, the cyber tribal chrome kind of sitch kinda alludes to his curls :0
i mean to the rest of the world he’s this stoic and serious guy all the time
but they don't see how he looks at you while you paint the finer details on his nails
or the subtle and soft dopey smile he’s got on as he asks you in lovestruck whispers about your technique, how work's going, what materials you use, etc.
"and... what's this for now?" [sakusa]
"it's to make sure your nails stay nice and strong for whenever you hit your incredible spikes, omi." [you]
"oh, that's definitely important. wouldn't want to skip that." [sakusa] (before you laugh at his little joke and his heart skips a beat and he gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head as you continue to work)
once the nails are finished, he goes to look at them with his fingers clawed–boyishly characteristic of a dude who's never gotten his nails done like this before
you can't help but laugh and he asks what's wrong
"what do you mean i'm looking at them weird?" [sakusa]
"your hands look like when you posed with the msby jackal mascot that one time." [you]
"how else am i supposed to look at them?" [sakusa]
you demonstrate how people normally check out their nails at the salon
and then it delves into a mini hand modeling lesson and many, many, giggles between the two of you as he tries to figure it out
you end up with some new reference pics of his set for any of your future clients, what a supportive boyfriend!
a certain photo is going viral as it makes its rounds online. the photographer who took it had to have known they struck gold capturing this certain moment, and the racking number of likes and comments are only affirmations of that.
it's a professional shot of sakusa kiyoomi mid-game. late-game, actually, as its evident though the state of his appearance in the picture.
visible droplets dot his face and figure, giving his skin and curly hair a certain sheen that proves the dedication he puts into every one of the msby jackals' games. to combat the sweat that's accumulated on himself, it seems like sakusa had absentmindedly reached for the edge of his jersey to act as a substitute for a towel in that particular moment (his expression is clearly focused on nothing but what might've been happening next on the other side of the court net). the muscles that adorn his torso peek out from the action.
and on top of it all–the sweat, the abs, the way the rest of the jersey clings to the rest of his body–the subtle chrome detailing of his nails stand out where his hand tugs the fabric to wipe at the bottom of his face...
and you hadn't even really caught on to this picture online yourself. the only reason you went to look it up for yourself was because of the influx of work emails you had received since the jackals' last win.
the public was vaguely aware you specialized in cosmetics, as sakusa had alluded to now and then in press conferences and interviews. however, it wasn't really until people online started to wonder where your boyfriend got these nails from did google's reverse-image search bring them to the pictures on your profile that you and sakusa took post- his manicure.
to say your clientele grew overnight, would be quite the understatement.
︴miya atsumu ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°
ik the picture is a bit blurry but PLEASE stick with me here yall 🙏 HEAR ME OUT
heavy on that barbie ken atsumu sort of agenda
you ask if he had any colors in mind
and he’s like "y'know what? fuck it. go big or go home."
he knows people might shit on him for having his nails done at his next game so yeah get the most stereotypically “feminine” color you got–just to mess with whatever losers might whine about it
“but... do ya think pink would look good on me y/n?” [atsumu] (AND HE'S KIND OF SHY WHEN HE'S ASKING YOU)
"OF COURSE IT WOULD BABY??" [you]
as you're ducked down working, he misses seeing your face
so he cranes his neck and looks up at you from where his hands are
"hey baby, funny seeing you here." [atsumu]
"tsumu, stay still!" [you]
"sorry angel, just missed lookin' at ya." [atsumu]
in that position, he loves the feeling of you holding his hands and the sensation of the nail polish brush against the top of his fingers so much, that he semi-falls asleep against his forearm as you wrap up
he just feels so much at peace <3
and when you’re done he is definitely giving ken, and that his job is volleyball
and tbh i hc his hair post timeskip isn’t so much piss yellow as ppl joke it was while he was at inarizaki
but that if he stuck through with keeping it blonde for so long he eventually managed to get it professionally done, and with some GODDAMN TONER 😭
i think it’s like a brassy sort of blonde
which looks perfect as an accent to the nails
like pop off regina george!!!!
something endearing about your loving atsumu is he never fails to get you the best seats in the arena whenever you come watch the msby jackals play.
from front row, you can see everything, and in so much detail—the action, the sweat, the tears that goes into each and every matchup the team faces. truly, the experience was leagues above settling for a closer look on any big screen or arena jumbotron. everything was just so much clearer!
but most importantly, you can see your boyfriend. very clearly.
so clearly, in fact, that after a particular great serve to bokuto for a spike that earned the jackals yet another point, you have the luxury of soaking in all the glowing details of atsumu in his element.
the way he clutches his strong fists and yells with joy at the small win, a bit of pink peeking out from the insides of his palms.
how his hands clap and grasp at the hands of his teammates in quick celebratory high-fives that leave streaky blurs of pink trailing behind his excited movements.
when his hand quickly drags over his smiling and glistening face, before carding through his hair—small pink detailings disappearing and reappearing amidst the blonde strands that rest on the top of his head.
by the time all the players on the court are settled back into their places for when the moment the ball will be up in the air once again—anticipation pulsing on both sides of the net—you can even catch as atsumu quickly glances at his nails with a small, blink-and-you’d-miss-it smile.
thankfully, your top-tier seat allows you to catch it. and although he’s smiling at his hands, you know that it’s for your work and by extension, it’s all love for you in that split second before your boyfriend has to lock in again.
when the next ball is served, you find yourself almost falling out of your chair from how far you’re leaning forward to take in as much of your great view as possible.
︴bokuto kōtarō ․﹒∗*○․﹒✧∘°
MISMATCH IS A MUST
you say the few designs you want to try out and ask him which one you can try on him and he just goes: ALL OF THEM!
(he knows it’ll take longer to do with all the different elements, but that just means he gets to stare at you for longer as you work)
"are you sure? i mean, do you have a color you want in particular? i can tweak them so they all have the same palette." [you]
"nope! cover me with whatever your beautiful mind is envisioning!" [bokuto] (he's jutting his fingers out in front of you and wiggling them around with the biggest grin on his face)
these nails also just fits him as a person because he’s super all over the place and spontaneous so it works it JUST WORKS OK
plus his hair’s literally greyish whitish so it’s like a perfect neutral and blank canvas to accent the color palette
it's one thing having him sit still for an extended amount of time, but having you this close? right in front of him?
how is he not supposed to give your lips a quick kiss now and then
BUT!!! he always goes to double check he didn't mess up the nails every time he pulls back
"kō, the nails are fine! you didn't even move your hands, you're just moving your head to kiss me, silly." [you]
"just making sure, babe! i know this stuff takes a lot of work. plus, i can't really think of what else is happening when i'm kissing you, really." [bokuto] (already going in for another kiss)
you can see in the corner of your eye as you work on your designs that bokuto's nose scrunches up now and then
it's because he's not used to the smell of the nail products you're using
upon completing the whole nail set, he concludes it’s legitimately one of THE COOLEST THINGS anyone’s ever fucking done for him
doesn’t stop staring at his hands in a little bit of awe even after you’re done and chilling on the living room couch, completely oblivious to what's going on on the tv in front of you two
the crowd is going absolutely ballistic. the jackals are in the lead. and your boyfriend, the bokuto kōtarō is up and about to serve.
you watch the arena's big teleprompter with the rest of the spectators as the cameras pan to bokuto.
he has that look on his face–confident and happy playing the sport that runs through his veins. his hand crashes down onto the ball once. wham!
twice. blam!
when the ball comes back up, he grips it between his hands. it's evident even through the screen how his arms tense and pulse. it's like he's revving up.
as everyone hangs off the edge of their seats and keep their eyes glued in anticipation to the broadcasting of bokuto holding that unmistakable combo of blue and yellow–it's impossible to ignore how the ends of his hands glint and reflect the bright overhead lights.
colors of all kinds twitch in excitement against the leather and the star player quickly glances down at the ball, sure, but most definitely also at the intricate art you so graciously blessed his nails with. bokuto's lips crack a smile.
then he's tossing the volleyball up. a loud and powerful smack reverberates throughout the arena. in the blink of an eye the ball whizzes past two of the opposite team's players and the crowd explodes once again as the ball is now rolling on the outskirts of the court across the net.
your boyfriend's chest swells with pride, and his carefully manicured finger darts to point over you in the stands. you cheer even louder for him as he beams a tooth-filled smile your way.
💬 kuroppiii ─ “ oh and i forgot to point out that most of these designs are short and with minimal charms so they don't get in the way of a volleyball player ' s , well ... volleyball playing ! short nail - ers rise up ! ”
suna rintarou as your bsf that lowk wants you BAD
tags/warning : segsual jokes , mention of drinking , lowk fanon suna but like i’m obsessed
-> reply if you want to be added to the tag list
part 1/part 2/part 3/part 4/part 5
Premise : you’ve been best friends with suna since high school and you both knew that the other doesn’t like commitment. you still want each other tho.
taglist : @carm1lla @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon
omi and his girly little gf <3
he thinks you’re so PRECIOUS. when he first saw you walking across campus with your nails done, shorter than most of your friends, dressed well and in pink he couldn’t stop thinking about you. atsumu had to snap him back into the conversation. kiyoomi thought that you looked like a pretty princess.
when you two become friends and talk more, he’s a little more obvious about it. when you get your nails done or ask him if he likes a skirt you got he always compliments how well it suits you, that pink is your colour!!
if you’re black, and you add pink into your braids/ dreads/ locs/ twists he thinks you look like an absolute FAIRY!!! you come back from the salon [ he wanted to come see you. he swears he did. but you didn’t let him for the ‘surprise’ of it): ] his mouth curls into a smile and his dimples are on display, he gets up from his spot on the sofa and asks if he can touch them. he clears some of the hair from your face and he places a feathery kiss on your forehead , “it’s not fair, how pretty you are,” he says.
kiyoomi just loves when you have french tips. he loves it. especially when the base is a pale pink colour, and the tips are just a crisp white. he loves how it contrasts with his black rings as he holds your hand. his heart flutters when your little, neat palm can only wrap around a few of his fingers. he loves how your manicured thumb rubs against his battered knuckles - it makes him feel dizzy.
he loves when you wear skirts or get new ones, he always twirls you around like you two were slow dancing. he’ll chuckle along with you when you giggle, “i think this one’s my favorite now,” he said to you ; although he’s said that about all 7 of the skirts.
don’t you dare try to do anything when you’ve just gotten your nails done. laundry? he’ll help. you wanna make yourself smth to eat? nah, he’s got it. you wanna shower??? why????? he’ll just clean you🤞🏻🤞🏻. his big sister used to complain about having to do things with her nails on and he’d never let his sweet little princess do anything by herself ):
omi would absolutely let you do his makeup if you wanted to try a new makeup look. you sit him down, putting his bouncy curls in a little bun and then priming his face. his cheeks smush and squish as your small hands work on him gently. he can’t help the warmth in his chest when he feels that you’re making a conscious effort to be gentle when you’re soaping down his eyebrows or blending out the highlight. his favorite is when you put on mascara- the way your index finger tilts his chin upwards and you mutter a ,’ look up f’ me, kiyo’ in the most sugary sweet tone he’s ever heard. he replies with a simple , ‘ ‘kay’ that could never give away the butterflies in the pit of his belly.
lastly - he’s spoiling you ROTTEN. he’s got allll that athlete money for what???? you, obviously. you saw some pretty mary janes you wanna wear to work? done. you want new earrings? done. you want a necklace with his name on it? done. well, that part wasn’t a choice- but he’s still happy that you wanted it. if you two are out and you even say that something is cute , his immediate response is , “do you want it?” and he’s dead serious. even if it’s ridiculously over priced. if you’re someone who cries when they accept gifts i’m projecting i’m sorry consider his heart SHATTERED when he hears the break in your voice as you thank him. he’s coddling you, asking if you really hated the gift that much, but when you explain that it just overwhelms you he feels tears in his own eyes at how precious you truly are. his large hand caressing your head and the other rubbing gentle circles on your back, whispering to you that you deserve his gifts, his love, his patience because you give it back to him. you deserve to be a princess- his princess- forever</3333333
Dabi when bored:
Dabi: Would you still love me if I was a worm?
Hawks: You know that's not poss... (Sees Dabi igniting his palms with a look at says: say the wrong answer and I'll commit arson)... Of course, I'll still love you. I'll give you good soil.
Dabi: If we're out with Jin and he's struggling with peeling off the perilla leaves, would you help him?
Hawks: Of course... (Sees Dabi playing with a dull knife)... Not. Why would I? He's a grown man. He can deal with it.
Dabi: If we get married, will you give me your credit card?
Hawks: Yes, if... (Sees Dabi holding his Endeavor plushie hostage)... You spend the money the way you want. What's mine is yours.
TW // suggestive suicide
Dabi: What theme should we go for if we were to marry?
Hawks: There can... (Sees Dabi tiptoeing at the edge of the building)... Not be any other options besides goth.
Dabi: Will you wear the costume I bought for you on our wedding night?
Hawks: You know... (Sees Dabi preparing to offer him as a sacrifice)... that I won't wear anything else other than that. I can wear it whenever you ask me to.
Dabi: Who's the most jealous man you know?
Hawks: You... (Sees Dabi holding a notebook)... know I don't know any other men besides you.
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