#and it seems to you that there's no place for you in this world and you cannot be with other people because of all that

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[bbyseok]

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran last night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily. “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

[n0tamused]

Will you stay?

A/n: save me sad dragon general, save me... sad dragon general you better get ready cause I'm sending happiness your way whether you like it or not

Content: Jiyan x Reader (fem implied, but no pronouns used), angst undertone but it all turns to fluff, Jiyan referred to as a husband, word vomit, non sexual nudity implied, not proof-read, maybe a tiny bit ooc? Feedback is appreaciated

Moonlight cascades through the open window in silky streams, showering the white sheets with silver and shimmer. The world is at peace, and quiet prevails all around, much unlike the main battle front. For only a few hours he spends here, Jiyan feels as if his lifelong wish is fulfilled. A facade it is, a dream, but it is comforting in all its delusion. Maybe one day it will come true, and he won't be forced to abandon your warm embrace for another month, and more, to fight.

His eyes move from the window and down at you where you have nestled yourself against his chest, your arms draped around him. It’s well into the depth of the night, yet both of you are denying sleep that so obviously hangs heavy over your eyelids - as any hour more means longer time spent together. And up until that point he has been listening to you talk about your days in the city, your fingertips tracing his chest and the occasional scar that paints itself thin and textured, different from the rest of his smooth skin. When you trailed off, he was quick to notice. His chin dipping slightly down to look at you.

Your finger neverending in its work of drawing him out, feeling him in all his warmth, living warmth - and your eyes lost themselves in images your mind conjured of what the battlefield looked like now. Red skies and twisted lands soiled with blood of people from the same city you were in now, the same people that were once someone’s little boys and girls, daddy’s girl and momma’s boys. Only now they were decades older with heavy bags under their eyes, lying in the desolate lands under trees for cover. 

“Don’t think about it.. don’t.. let that plague your mind, my dear” Jiyan spoke up, his hand coming up to cup yours that had begun to shake over his chest, fingers curling into your palms. Jiyan wished he could take this worry away from you, he wished he could protect you from the horrific unknown and all the terrifying images of your imagination, but such a task was an impossible one. Your bare body can only share his warmth and hold on to what is currently there.

“(Y/n).. “

“Tell me about your days..” you whispered, cutting him off as timidly as a petal of a flower. You pick your head up and place it on top of his chest, gazing into those golden eyes you had dreams of when he was gone. Pretty in all their glory, even as they regarded you with worry and question. Jiyan sighs softly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the small swirly patterns that show up with the moon. That was your choice to put up there, little swirls and dots and constellations..

“Days are long and tiring. I often miss the smell of the city while out at the front, and your cooking. The ingredients and supplies are scarce but we are alright, we are holding together, my dear” his words resonate softly in your ears, and to an extent they bring you comfort. His thumb is rubbing the inside of your palm, massaging the soft skin until the shakiness subsides, and furthermore. “During the down-time, when there’s no danger to confront, the soldiers always seem to find new ways to entertain themselves” at that a small smile broke over his solemn and tired features, prompting you to smile as well. He has told you before how men would jest and play, little children stuck in bodies of adults, chasing one another after one of them threw a boot at someone. It was a reminder all of these soldiers were people and that they were alive, but most importantly they still held onto their humanity and hope. So much hope that one could feel it from a mile away. 

“The other day, before our departure towards here, they were bold enough to attempt a small jest about me and it backfired, well it was unintentional frankly, I just happened to walk in on them. I suppose a new rumor broke out how I dismiss people from the military after I give them  medical assistance”

“What? That’s ridiculous.. You wouldn’t send anyone home unless they were really badly behaving or injured”

“Yes. But that doesn’t quell the rumors, especially among the new cadets, which makes me think this is some ploy of the more experienced bunch as to scare the youth But..as I was walking by the tents and corners I ran into this group huddled under the lamp, talking about this rumor. I’m not sure what came over me, but I just marched up to them and coldly began to question them, about what they were doing and such” A stupid smile came across his lips now, a childish one you relished in seeing and it make you physically perk up to hear the rest of the story. Your leg came over his waist as you tried to comfortably lay on his chest.

“One of those men had a pretty bad leg wound from the day prior, but nothing life threatening. However, he has been quite snarky with Captains and other soldiers, so I gazed at his bandaged wound, then up at him, and then I asked if he wanted me to take a look at it. The team went silent as a grave, my love- I..”

“The rumor had so much effect on them? Pfftt-” “Yes! I was quite shocked too, I had to hold back my surprise, but he went pale, I can’t even describe it to you. Whoever created this rumor really was creative, I need to give them that, but I really couldn’t play so long afterwards. I had to clear it up..”

You giggle at his words, forehead pressing against his collarbone as your chest flutters with warmth, just imagining this scenario was silly - has your husband become such a menace in the army? Him? Sure, he was skilled beyond belief, but the way he laid beneath you and the way he touched you could never make you believe he was scary. You know him, for crying out loud! And due to that, this was all the funnier.

Jiyan joined your fit of giggles, other hand rubbing and holding your back, pushing you up against his chest that jumped with cackles. “Goodness- now you’re laughing at me as well” he comments lightheartedly.

“Apologies, apologies, I can’t help myself” you respond and slowly come back to your composure with a long sigh of relief. “Those poor souls, scared by my precious husband. Perhaps I should start scolding you at home more often” Your hand sneaks from his hold and pinches his cheek teasingly, causing  him to click his tongue and pull away, reminded of the way his mother would do the same action when he was younger, although not so teasingly or playfully. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, his other arm soon joining its pursuit of keeping you still against him.

“Perhaps you should not. I missed you too much, but then again.. If scolding me is the way to hear more of your voice, I could get used to it..” Jiyan says as he releases his tight hold of you, letting you slump against his chest with a small exhale. “But now..” his lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to it before pulling away. “You must rest. I know how little sleep you got the last few days..” he says and reaches for the covers that were pushed down in your small tussle. The blanket covers your back and you instantly feel warmer, nestled here against him.

The thought of him leaving makes a pang settle in your heart once more, heavy and sharp. “Jiyan.. will you be able to stay for breakfast at least?” you ask him, hoping, wishing, praying.. just an hour will do.

“.. I will. I’ll wake you up, aright? We’ll cook something together..” There’s promise in his voice and it is undeniably prevalent and true, otherwise he would not be saying these things. Jiyan kissed your forehead again, hugging you against him and closing his eyes.

The upcoming morning suddenly became something to look forward to.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[mrsfancyferrari]

Just One Kiss

Summary: You & Charles are just best friends but when he wins in his home for the first time, things might change

Song: Reflections - The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Congratulations to Charles Leclerc for winning in his first home Monaco Grand Prix! This is my first F1 story and I recently started following F1 so please give constructive criticism.

Word count: 2.4k

Your best friend was racing across the last track, and you held your breath, anticipating the outcome. The crowd was on their feet, cheering and shouting as the finish line approached.

As he sprinted towards the end, you could see the determination behind his helmet, the sheer will to win. And then, in a burst of speed, he crossed the finish line, victorious.

The stadium erupted in applause, celebrating his incredible feat of athleticism and the months of hard work and training that had led to this moment.

His victory at the Monaco Grand Prix was not only a personal triumph but also a historical moment for his team. It marked his first win on this iconic track, solidifying his status as a rising star in the world of Formula 1 racing.

The streets of Monte Carlo were filled with joy and excitement as fans and fellow drivers alike celebrated his remarkable achievement.

As you joined in the jubilant celebration, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for your best friend. You had witnessed firsthand the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice he had poured into his career.

From early mornings at the gym to late nights studying data and analyzing race strategies, he had truly given his all.

And now, as you stood among the crowd, you knew that this victory was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey that would undoubtedly lead him to even greater heights in the world of Formula 1 racing.

As soon as he parked close enough, he jumped out of his racing car and ran over to his team with happiness. They embraced him with open arms, their faces beaming with pride and joy.

Together, they celebrated this monumental victory, knowing that it was the result of their collective effort and unwavering support. The atmosphere was electric, and the moment will forever be etched in their memories as a symbol of their shared triumph and unbreakable bond.

You squeezed through the crowd, determined to catch a glimpse of your best friend before he headed for the podium. Finally, you spotted him, his face still flushed with the adrenaline of the race.

You shouted his name, waving your arms to get his attention, and when he saw you, a wide smile spread across his face. He made his way towards you, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness for his incredible achievement.

As he ran over to you, a surge of joy and excitement overcame both of you. He engulfed you into a tight hug, lifting you up off the ground.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as the exhilaration of the moment washed over you. The crowd roared in applause, their cheers blending with the sound of your friend's racing heartbeat, creating a symphony of triumph and friendship that echoed through the streets of Monte Carlo.

Placing you back down, you both looked at each other in silence, something you two started doing recently. It was as if words were no longer necessary to understand each other's thoughts and feelings.

"You did it," You whispered, unable to control the tears gushing down your face.

Charles grinned, "Yeah, I did, with you by my side," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and emotion.

While you played with his hair on the back of his head, you smiled back at him.

As if something had possessed you, you quickly leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Charles' lips.

Both of you were shocked by your actions, your eyes widening in surprise as you pulled away from the unexpected kiss.

What have you done?

The atmosphere around you seemed to pause for a moment, as if time itself had frozen, before the crowd erupted into a mix of gasps and cheers, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

Charles heard his manager call him, and as he quickly glanced back, his eyes met yours. He smiled, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in his expression, and said, "I'll talk to you when I come back, promise."

He left the embrace and followed his manager, disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards the podium. As you stood there, still in shock from the unexpected kiss, you couldn't help but wonder how this moment would change everything between you and Charles.

The crowd continued to cheer, but in that fleeting moment, you both knew that something had shifted between you, and there was no going back. . . . .

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as the laughter of Daniel echoed across the room as you explained your issue to him. It was clear that he found the situation amusing, and it made you question whether confiding in him was the right decision.

"Come on, don't be so hard on yourself," Daniel replied, his laughter subsiding.

"It's not every day that you accidentally kiss your best friend. But hey, maybe this could be the start of something amazing between you two."

You sighed, still unsure of how to navigate the complex emotions swirling within you. "I don't know, Daniel," you said softly. "I'm just worried that this kiss might ruin our friendship."

"Don't worry too much," Daniel reassured you. "Who knows, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"Exactly, maybe finally my favorite ship will get together," Oscar added, coming out of nowhere to join the conversation.

You lightly punched Oscar's arm for his comment, trying to hide your blush and dismiss his teasing. Deep down, though, you couldn't help but wonder if he was right, and if this unexpected kiss with Charles could truly lead to something more than just friendship.

"Just think about it, you two would look too cute together!" Oscar said while holding his arm in 'pain'.

"This is not what I meant when I asked for advice," you muttered, keeping an eye out of the Monegasque.

"Our advice is to ask him out, no ifs or buts," Daniel started.

"But," you interrupted, "what if he doesn't feel the same way? I don't want to risk losing our friendship."

Daniel sighed, understanding your hesitation. "I get it, but you'll never know unless you try. And if there's a 100 percent chance he says yes, then maybe it's worth taking the leap."

"But what if there's also a 100 percent chance he says no?" you countered, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Daniel paused, considering your question. "Well," he finally said, "then at least you'll have closure and can move on without any regrets."

As the boys left you, you couldn't help but mull over their advice. The idea of asking Charles out was both exhilarating and terrifying, but deep down, you knew that regretting never taking a chance would be even worse.

It didn't take you long to find out that Charles, along with the rest of his team, were celebrating their victory by the dock.

His smile was enough to make you retreat. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness he exuded made you momentarily remember about doubts of asking him out.

Maybe, just maybe, you were content with keeping things as they were for now, cherishing the friendship you had with Charles.

The party was a lively affair, with colorful decorations adorning the dock and laughter filling the air. Families, drivers, and workers mingled together, sharing stories and celebrating the team's victory.

The aroma of delicious food wafted through the crowd, enticing everyone to indulge in the festive feast. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and joy, as people danced to the upbeat music and raised their glasses in cheers.

It was a true celebration of hard work and success, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to be a part of such a vibrant and supportive community.

As you observed the lively celebration from the corner, you took a moment to gather your thoughts and plan what you would say to Charles when you finally had a chance to speak with him.

Having given up on love, you found yourself scrolling through the online world looking for signs that he might be interested in you and what to say when you want to confess your feelings.

Maybe instead of relying on online advice or searching for signs, it might be best to have an open and honest conversation with Charles.

Find a quiet moment during the celebration to approach him, express your feelings sincerely, and ask if he would be interested in exploring a romantic relationship. By directly communicating your emotions, you can avoid misunderstandings and have a clearer understanding of where you both stand-

As you were lost in your thoughts, suddenly your chin was raised up and your eyes were forced off your phone and look into the eyes of Charles. His gaze was intense, and you could see a hint of curiosity and intrigue.

He then leaned in closer as he tilted your head up, his lips brushing against yours for seconds, and you could taste the salty sea water from when he jumped into the docks.

You were taken aback by the unexpected kiss, the taste of salty sea water lingering on your lips.

"Hey, can we talk somewhere else in private?" Charles asked desperately.

"Ye- Yeah," you stuttered, having Charles lead you with his hand in yours out of the party. Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you followed him, wondering what he wanted to talk about in private.

As you stayed silent, your mind raced with possibilities of what Charles wanted to discuss in private. Was he going to reciprocate your feelings? Or was there something else entirely on his mind?

The anticipation and uncertainty only fueled your curiosity as you both entered the closest empty room.

Charles let go of your hand as soon as the room was secure, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was as if the connection you had just shared was abruptly severed, leaving you longing for his touch once more.

"Are you going to start or should I?" Charles asked as he leaned against a piece of furniture, his eyes never leave you.

The intense eye contact he made made you feel as though your legs were suddenly giving out.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" you muttered, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

"Well, I'm thinking about the kiss you gave me in front of national television," he stated. His voice was filled with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of the millions of people who saw that intimate moment between the two of you.

"And I can't stop wondering if it was just in the moment or if there's something more between us."

You shake your head vigorously, denying any deeper meaning behind the kiss. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for it to be taken seriously."

There could never be anything between the two of you anyway. The public would never allow it. Just deny it.

"Mon chérie, are you sure? Because your expressions say otherwise," he teased as he started to walk over to you, his playful smile revealing that he saw through your denial.

The way he closed the distance between you made your heart race even faster, and you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility for something more between you and Charles after all.

Charles always loved to tease you in every way possible. Either it was placing your cup on the top shelf or holding your phone in the air, he was always determined to tease you these days.

But this was different.

"No, Charles, I'm certain. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment, nothing more," you insisted, desperately clinging to the denial. Deep down, you knew that pursuing anything with Charles would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

It was better to keep your feelings buried and maintain the illusion of friendship.

As Charles stood in front of you, barely any space between you two, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made it hard to maintain your denial.

The air crackled with tension, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Charles.

"Want to try again to see if it was just a 'momentary lapse'?" he asked, raising your chin again. His words sent a shiver down your spine, tempting you to give in and explore the possibility of something more.

His lips were hovering over yours, teasing you with the possibility of what could be. The air between you was charged with anticipation, and it took every ounce of willpower to resist the temptation and maintain your denial.

"Just say it," He muttered, "Just say it and I'll do the rest."

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't deny the truth that they held. They were filled with a longing and desire that mirrored your own, and in that moment, you knew that your denial was futile.

"I want you," you finally whispered, surrendering to the undeniable connection between you and Charles.

Charles captured your lips with such hunger, his kiss filled with the years of unspoken longing and desire that had been building between you. In that moment, you both knew that there was no turning back, and that the possibility of something more had become an undeniable reality.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the intoxicating passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

In that moment, you both knew that you were no longer able to deny the magnetic pull between you, and that surrendering to this forbidden love was inevitable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the midst of your passionate embrace.

Charles's eyes softened, filled with a mix of joy and relief, as he murmured, "I love you too," sealing your fate in a love that had been yearning to be acknowledged. . . .

[autumnslance]

The worst part too about the Paladin quests is it's Heavensward that's most egregious. It honestly feels like someone had no idea what was going on, or didn't care, or left, and their colleagues left holding the bag with this mess of a story had no idea what to do with it.

ARR Gladiator quests are fine! They're along the lines of the other Class quests, intro you to the job and a complicated character dynamic, and it's a decent time.

The ARR Paladin quests...are just boring. They aren't actually even that bad, they're just...utterly predictable, bog-standard tropes and plot line where you can see everything coming malms away. But they have an internal logic to them that builds on the politics and scheming in Ul'dah. Jenlyns realizes he's an unwitting pawn of the Syndicate, and he was literally chosen for the job cuz he could be easily duped and controlled. He doesn't even get to have imposter syndrome, he's actually unfit for the job (and then strives to do better, leveraging support from Papashan and Mylla to shore up his own weaknesses, which is admirable!).

...Nevermind that traditional Paladins in general are a bad fit for Ul'dah. The heavily armored Sultansworn makes no sense in that desert environment, and looking at a world map we can even see that Southern Thanalan seems to be on the equator. Like it's not even a case of "it's cooler than it seems cuz they're further north." Because they're not. And I know the devs wanted to have Ishgard perhaps be a starter city but that was scrapped due to time and resources, fine but um.

Dragoons are still trained in Coerthas, by Coerthans. Why didn't they just...do that with Paladins? Keep Gladiator in Ul'dah, where it makes sense as presented. But then have to work with Temple Knights to get the Job. Especially since after Ul'dah's intro, the game just forgets the Sultansworn exist and they have no bearing on the MSQ the way the other factions in Ul'dah do. Not even in the finale of ARR's arc where it would make sense. Gladiators are a constant in other side quests and MSQ both.

Stormblood Paladin is also fine--because it goes back to those Gladiators, and we interact with Paladins and Knights across the realm, and deal with those complicated relationships between the Gladiator guild core members. It's internally logical in its drama about finally restoring Aldis's reputation and place in Ul'dah, against the backdrop of the tournament.

Heavensward Paladin straight up makes no sense. Solkzaygl's actions are entirely contradictory to his character and arc from ARR. There's no way for some of the actions to occur without him working with the outlaws in some way. Instead of teaching Constaint, he sends him on a merry chase across Coerthas to learn on his own, and it's only the WoL's aid that sees the boy live, let alone make progress. A random man dies, guilt-ridden, due to Solk's scheming and lies he confided to this poor guy.

And then Highlander-esque "there can be only one" nonsense. Even as a Highlander fangirl in my youth, it was insulting and awful. Papashan, Jenlyns, and Constaint all call out how nonsense, illogical, unlikely, and stupid this whole story is...all to make a sword shine.

Because there's no internal logic to events, let alone the reason for the string of happenstance that leads to the finale.

And we know it's possible; HW Blacksmith gives us a fantastic paladin story! One that fits Ishgard's storyline and HW's themes. HW Dark Knight is also a good paladin story, actually, as they are meant to be another angle on the concept of dedicated knight defenders. Samurai for the Eastern equivalent, and the concepts and tropes present in those quest chains.

But the job actually bearing the name "Paladin" is left in the dirt. As a fan of the concept across various games (video and TTRPGs both), it's quite frustrating how the devs had no idea what to do with this job, despite other members of the writing and scenario team presenting stories that would have fit perfectly well within the framework. Only some of it is misplacing where Paladins originate in the setting; the rest is not taking advantage of the themes and setting of the expansions, and just not caring enough about the characters and story to even try, compared to the rest. Or worse, they did try, and meant for more, but whatever intrigue and complex plot they wanted to create was too much for 5 quests and no guarantee the arc would continue in the future, even if it had landed perfectly.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . |Webs And All|.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

《When a Spider falls into a new world, she didn't expect it to be so.. "Batty" than the others she's been in.》

-

Hurriedly swinging on rooftops and walls, you gaze in awe of the night sky. Warmth filling your body as the night air floats on your suit. Taking in the night sky...

Before smog and gas cover it as you jump down on the roof top. Pouting at the loss of the clear sky as you frown.

"I forget how polluted this city is.." You grumble, going to the ledge as you place your arms on the railing. Gazing down at the city lights and billboards.

Blinking innocently at one of the paid advertisments, you squint at it curiously.

"Wayne Enter.. Prizes? Technology.." You giggle at the guy on the board. His charming smile and flirty wink was not something you've seen often for an ad for tech.

Well...

You start re-calling a few worlds that did, but with a another billionare..

"Hmm, well. That's enough day-dreaming!" You shake your body, wanting to get your jitters out before taking a deep breath... Shooting out one of your webs to a near by ledge as you run and jump off.

Feeling your body pulled downwards, you pull your web as you glide through the air. Twirling slightly as you smile underneat your mask. Laughing once more as you swing forward.

..Let's do things differently this time.

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), you were bitten by a radioactive spider..

Yet you weren't the only one.

But now.. Your on your own, though you weren't the only one.

With a fleeting glance at you, the supposed.. Dark Knight: pays you no mind. Eagerly taking down villians left and right, as the two of you finish them off together.

You were supposed to be back at HQ.

Things didn't go as planned.

You made it work, with this "new" life of yours.

Stumbling over your shoes in a hurry, you place down the box of donuts on the big fancy board meeting table. Glad that the stairwell was open, sighing in relief, you miss the eyes that watched you leave the building. While you headed to your next job!

In this Au, Spider!(Y/N) is a temp-worker and delivery girl. Just an odd young gal doing jobs around Gotham, ordinary and sweet.

She has a multiverse-watch, handmade specifcally for her by Miguel. Being one of his first recruits to the Spider Society, yet with the new Multiverse-Canon she's stuck in, the watch forms within her body to make it more acceptable to deal within the world.

Due to this, she doesn't "glitch" is the best term

"Welcome! Lord Hades!" The man dressed in a toga greeted cheerfully. You squint in confusion. Glancing at your companion as you walked closer to his side.

"Ah.. And fair Persephone, it seems you've taken form as garden spider. How quaint!" He spoke jovially as he held out a golden goblet to the two of you.

"Be serious Max! That's Batman and-"

"But Batman is a mere mortal! And what mortal has reached the summit of Olympus and survied!" Placing a hand on Batman's shoulder, the man gestured to his cup.

"Come! Brother! Unveil yourself and your bride in the nectar of the gods!"

-Batman The Animated Series 1992 Ep: Fire From Olympus

Spider!(Y/N) doesn't know Batman's idenitiy, and funny enough. He doesn't know hers, in the beginning. I'd like to think maybe down the line there's a possibility! I just think it's silly-er.

I'd like to think the dynamic between the two is Batman served as a comedic foil to Spider!(Y/N). Sorta, "brooding guy-and happy guy". Also, I like to point out, they can both can be silly in their own ways!

Just them figuring it out with Batman is hilarious in itself.

Biting into the dish, you beam in joy! It tasted so sweet! And.. Tangy, with a bit of sour. Invested with the tasty dish, you fail to notice the striking blue eyes glancing at you from a distance. Naively standing alone in your waiter uniform as you nibble on the treat.

"Ah, Mister Wayne, good to see you." Jim Gordon, dressed outside of his usual detective get-up greets. Flattening down his suit before grabbing one of the fancy champange glasses from one of the servers.

"Oh, Commissioner!" He spoke in suprise, greeting him as the two started to chat. "-And there it was... Mister Freeze and that giant lizzard."

"Dinosur." Gordan corrected.

"Whatever, doesn't make any sense. What does Victor Freeze gain by destroying a bunch of bones?" The billionare huffed.

"That's the question alright, I wish I had the answer." The Commissioner sighed, brows lowering in thought.

-Batman The New Animated Adventures 1994 Ep: Cold Comfort

-

[This was a small personal project for me, I had this idea since Into the Spiderverse! I would honestly love some feedback for this! I also would love to hear your guys own ideas in the aak box!]

[hqbaby]

ten — jerk

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.8k content. profanity, mentions of reader’s not so happy life, alcohol consumption, violent confrontation, sexual content [oral m receiving]

It’s been a while since Sukuna’s been to a party. “A while,” of course means two weeks in his world, but nonetheless it seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone to one. So when Mahito tells him that there’s a party happening near his dorm tonight, he really has no choice but to go.

As soon as he gets in his car to leave, the first thing he thinks about is you. Should he text you? Ask if you want to come? But he soon remembers that you have a test the next day and he doesn’t want you to go to class hungover.

So he tells you he’s going out tonight and wishes you luck on your test, tells you that he’s just a call away if you decide you want his company. He can’t help the smile that grows on his face when you respond within seconds.

you: thanks! have fun loser <3

He tucks his phone into his pocket and drives over to Aoi’s house.

When he steps inside, the place is packed. There’s a bunch of people dancing, a few that are already slurring from all the alcohol they’ve consumed, and more than enough girls clocking him and giving him goo-goo eyes.

“Sukuna! You’re here!” Mahito comes up to him, pats his back, and hands him a beer. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

Sukuna takes a sip of his drink and frowns. “What made you think that?”

The boy just shrugs. “I heard you’re all tied down now,” he says. “I assumed your girl wouldn’t be too happy with you coming. What with your… reputation.”

There’s a strange feeling that grows in your best friend’s stomach at the thought of you being called “his girl.” Weird, he thinks, but he brushes it off. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m still allowed to have fun,” he says, placing a hand on Mahito’s shoulder. “I’m gonna get a stronger drink,” he lifts his beer, “this is basically juice.”

Mojito guffaws. “Alright, big guy. See you around.”

Sukuna winds his way over to the kitchen and opens the fridge to find something stronger. He isn’t necessarily proud of his alcohol tolerance—you give him shit about it all the time—but he’s never been one to enjoy a party without being at least a little tipsy.

“Looking for something?”

He closes the fridge and sees a girl watching him with a smile. She’s leaning against the counter, all dolled up in a pretty little dress with a beer in hand. He swears he’s never seen this girl before, but it doesn’t matter. If there’s one thing Sukuna does best, it’s pique the interest of strangers who just so happen to be incredibly hot.

He holds up the bottle of gin he found. “Just something to drink,” he says, cracking it open and taking a swig. He holds it out for the girl. “Want some?”

Her red lips quirk into a smile and she takes the bottle, downing quite a bit of it before she hands it back to him. They pass the bottle back and forth until Sukuna drinks the last of it, emptying the liquid into his mouth.

The girl giggles, resting her hand on Sukuna’s chest. “That’s quite the introduction.”

“What can I say?” He grins. “I make one hell of a first impression.”

Now, the alcohol does its trick. He can feel himself get a little hazy, he can feel himself loosen up. And he can feel the awfully apparent hard-on in his pants as the girl leans forward and whispers in his ear, “Wanna have some fun?”

He doesn’t even think, instinct and intoxication kicking in as he says, “Sure.”

Sukuna pulls the girl into a bathroom and she’s on him before he can even close the door. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. It’s sloppy and messy, probably driven by booze, but he kisses her back.

He doesn’t know why. It’s almost second-nature to him, this whole song and dance. But as he kisses her, a part of him screams that what he’s doing is wrong. Why?

He pulls back from her and trails his lips down her neck, searching for the spot that has her moaning at his touch. It’s so predictable, so normal, the way she pants against him as his hands slide from her waist up to cup her breasts. Women are so easy, he thinks.

The girl’s hands move down his chest, past his abdomen, and land on his belt. She unbuckles it and pushes it aside, tugging his zipper down.

With a smile, she sinks to her knees and pulls his pants and underwear down. His cock springs out, already painfully hard. She bats her eyelashes at him and in a sickly sweet voice asks, “Can I suck you off?”

And Sukuna says the only thing he knows to say.

“Sure.”

The girl places her dainty fingers around his cock and pumps it a few times before she wraps her mouth around it. Sukuna groans and reaches for her head, guiding her to take his length all the way in. When she chokes a little at the sheer size of it, he closes his eyes in ecstasy.

As the girl bobs her head up and down his shaft, the warmth of her mouth pushing grunt after grunt from his lips, Sukuna’s mind starts to wander as it is wont to do at times like these. His pleasure builds with every flick of her tongue, with every touch of her hand. It’s been a while since he’s felt this good, he thinks—and then he remembers.

You.

He thinks of you padding around your apartment in that one worn-out shirt you’ve been wearing since high school. He thinks of you getting into his car after a day of class, immediately launching into a rant about your professor and your useless groupmates. He thinks of you lying in your bed beside him, that one night after you’d confided in him about your nightmares. And he thinks about how he’d looked at you then, when you were fast asleep, and he thought that you’d never looked so beautiful.

“I made a promise,” he’d said. “Let me keep it.”

His eyes fly open and he looks down at the girl with her face pressed against his groin. All at once, the pleasure fades, and all he’s left with is disgust. And guilt.

He moves the girl off of him and quickly tucks himself back into his pants.

��What’s going on?” she asks, getting up with a bewildered expression. She tries to grab him as he zips himself up and starts heading for the door. “Hey!”

He dodges her grip and shakes his head, grabbing the doorknob. “Sorry,” he says before he goes outside.

As he moves to close the door behind him, he stills.

Satoru stands in front of him, an arm wrapped around who Sukuna can only assume is his new girlfriend. He looks startled, confused. Sukuna feels his blood run cold.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the girl demands as she comes out of the bathroom behind him.

Satoru’s eyes narrow. Realization. Anger.

Sukuna tries to get away before the situation escalates any further, but a hand grabs at the collar of his shirt before he can leave.

Your ex presses him against the wall. His eyes are dark and his other hand is balled into a fist at his side.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Satoru growls.

Sukuna pushes him off roughly and glares. “None of your fucking business.”

Satoru grabs Sukuna again and raises his fist, ready to land it on your best friend’s nose, and for a split second Sukuna has one thought on his mind: I deserve it.

“Satoru.”

Kimi’s voice is even as she calls out her boyfriend’s name from behind him. Satoru’s hand stops in the air for a moment before he lowers it and pushes Sukuna away. He backs up, but his eyes remain cold and hard as they shoot daggers at the man in front of him.

“Whatever,” he says, placing a hand on Kimi’s waist before he leads her away.

Just when he thinks it’s over, Sukuna feels a sharp sting on his cheek. A slap.

The girl whose name he doesn’t even know snarls at him. “Jerk,” she says as she gives him the finger and backs away into the crowd. “Asshole!”

Sukuna raises a hand to his cheek. He lets out a bitter chuckle. He deserves it.

You blink as Sukuna’s messages come into your phone in quick succession.

booger: going to a party

Then—

booger: gl with studying

Then—

booger: and gl with ur test

Then—

booger: just call me if u want company

You snort. Most people don’t know this, but as his best friend, you know just how soft Sukuna can be. You call him out on it most of the time, make fun of him when he’s being excessively clingy or sweet, but you have to admit that you actually like seeing this side of him.

And the fact that this side of him only seemingly comes out for you?

Yeah, you can’t deny that you like it a lot.

You reply to his message and put your phone away to confront the pages of notes on the table in front of you. With a sigh, you grab a highlighter and decide to start studying.

No one knows this, but in your senior year of high school, you’d actually considered not going to college. You were definitely expected to, what with the path you’d paved for yourself, but after years of toiling away at your academics, you considered letting yourself take a break. And what with your family fracturing in the last few months of high school… It was safe to say that ditching college wouldn’t have been what was expected, but it might have been what you needed.

Then the offer came in. A scholarship for a school far away from home, one that would handle everything from your tuition to the better-than-most apartment you now lived in. It was the best-case scenario, only made better when Sukuna rushed over the morning your results came out to say that he had gotten in too.

You have no idea what kind of luck had suddenly been granted to you, but you never questioned it. You took what you could and ran.

Maybe you never stopped running.

You lean back in your seat and stretch your back, yawning as you look down at your notes. You’re nearly done, just have to memorize a few terms before you can turn in for the night.

You glance at your phone. It’s been surprisingly quiet tonight, void of anyone asking for help with classes, projects, or life in general. You check the time. 10:27 PM—still pretty early.

You open your contacts and press on Sukuna’s to call him.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

And, “Leave a message or whatever.” Then, in the background, you hear your own laugh and your own voice teasing, “Are you trying to make your voicemail sound cool?”

You drop the call and frown at your phone.

Weird, you think. He’s never ignored your calls before.

notes. uh-oh 🫣

[sweetmilkespresso]

Treat You Better | CS55-> ? Fic & SMAU

order: Ex!Carlos x ChronicIll!Fem!Reader x Mystery Driver

flavor: angst

ingredients: angst, chronic illness, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, and fluff

You can't help but look at your past relationship and compare it to the one you have now.

bariata's note: Hi, this is my first real fic in the f1 fandom. It's more of test to see if people would be interested in more like this. I hope you enjoy what I've brewed up for you.

Sometimes you can't help but think about what you used to have.

Back when you and Carlos first got together you felt ontop of the world. You were in love and it felt like nothing could stop the rush you felt everytime you touched. You knew in your heart you loved him. You knew in your heart that he loved you too. Well, until you got sick.

It had started with the migraines.

They happened every few weeks coming and going like a tidal wave.

Eventually the migraines got closer and closer together until you got them daily.

They made you nauseous and every light became a potential trigger for a flare up.

You went from following Carlos from race to race to laying alone in the dark of your Monnaco apartment, in far too much pain to do anything.

That's when your relationship began to crumble.

It started with little things.

Carlos would complain about your constant rainchecks and I-Owe-Yous.

Next was the eyeroles and frowns whenever you mentioned your pain.

Overtime your body started to decline. Fatigue and exhaustion plagued your every waking moment. The aches and pains more pronounced as each day passed.

It was hard to stand and walk on your own.

As your body started to deteriorate so did your relationship.

What was originally little quips and snide remarks turned into white hot arguments.

Soon he was referring to you as:

"Too much" and "Exhausting"

You shot back that he was acting childish.

Not everything revolved around him and his needs. Things like this don't suddenly disappear because others find it tiring.

Until one day he'd had enough.

He'd locked you out of the apartment and threw out your things.

The two of you were done.

----

Looking back at that time you had felt so alone.

After you had broken up you moved into a little studio apartment that barely seemed fit for a person let alone a person with needs like yours.

Everything was too cramped and there was little you could do accessibility wise. You were renting the place after all.

----

But then he walked into your life.

It had been gradual at first.

He'd message or call you asking for an update since you'd went quiet on all your socials.

Soon enough he was inviting you over or coming to your place to visit.

It was incredibly cramped with the two of you in your little studio but you made it work.

He was so considerate of what you were feeling.

Whenever you cancelled he would just smile and say "Okay, there's always next time."

He was brazen and open about what he felt.

How he sat you down and point-blank made his intentions of "courting" you very clear.

You remember your first kiss.

You remembered how he cupped your cheek and asked permission before gently pressing your lips together in a chaste kiss.

He'd asked you to move in with him only a few months into your new relationship.

You agreed wholeheartedly. Your lease on your old studio apartment had been coming up anyways.

He happily helped you move in.

He didn't let you lift a single finger. Every little thing was taken care of. He hired a crew to move your stuff from your old studio to his place.

He was certainly full of surprises.

----

"Hey, y/n. Can you come over here and tell me if this is sturdy enough?" He asked you from the tile floor of the bathroom as he screwed a hand rail into the walls.

"What do you think about this one?" He asked as he passed you an ipad with plans for renovating the place.

"We can get the counters lowered and widen the space here so you can wheel your chair through and reach."

He installed ramps for all the doors.

He attached a wheel chair rack to every car he owned.

Since the house was two stories he even hired a guy to build a chair lift so you could reach the second floor.

Once your hands started shaking he would kneel down and tie your shoes for you.

Every little action was full of adoration.

He made it so easy to love him.

----

You're brought back to the present by a loud snore from right next to you.

Looking to your left you are met with the sleeping face of the love of your life.

You thumb over the pictures in your phone.

Smiling at the pictures you press post.

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram In a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

[cloudedgalaxies]

Hi hey hello :333 may i request something? Since I saw from another post of yours that they were open :> I also am not sure if you wrote this before or not but can you please do MC/Yuu waking up malleus, jack, rook, and idia with nice soft kisses please? 🩵🩵

Thank you!! :D

Hi!! I haven't written that yet, it's so cute omg! I died a little while I was thinking of scenarios. My brain rotted in a good way, thanks so much anon <33

True Love's Kiss (Without the Curse)

Malleus Draconia, Jack Howl, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud x G/N Yuu <3

Word Count: 2.6k | ~650 per part

(Malleus' part lowkey is kinda angsty but nothing too bad, really hope they're all in character and if not I'm so sorry TwT)

It was rare that Malleus ever slept. It was even rarer for Yuu to be witness to it, because after all their time together, the prince had become accustomed to watching over the prefect while they rested instead. But there were rare days where this was the opposite, and the human instead watched over the fae.

Fae were beautiful, Yuu found themself musing, as they took in Malleus’ sleeping face. He especially was extraordinary, with eyes that flickered and blazed and burned the most beautiful shade of green. It almost made their heart cry at how they couldn’t see his eyes then, when he rested and they had to be shut, but they supposed that was alright. They could still see his elegant horns that gave away his draconic heritage, and the pointed ears that hinted at his long, long lifespan. 

That was one of the reasons he rarely slept around them, Yuu knew. Malleus wanted to spend as many moments as possible with them. In the grand scheme of everything, they knew that what time they had to offer with him was naught but a drop in the sea of his life. Neither of them pretended that they didn’t know this, and yet,they never spoke of it. They countered it with little things, by taking walks together every night, or staying together even when one slept.

Yuu wondered what dreams he had. They wondered if he had dreams as vibrant as theirs, of histories that did not seem to be correct. They wondered if he could even dream, when he could govern everyone else’s to the point that they could become a reality he could shape. If Malleus could do that with others’ dreams, Yuu could not begin to imagine what he could do with his own.

And yet, they still wondered. Maybe he got lost in them too, like they did. Maybe when his eyes flickered underneath his eyelids, beautiful lashes fluttering, Malleus forgot that what worlds his mind constructed weren’t reality. Maybe they were nice dreams. Yuu hoped they were.

Just in case they weren’t, they stood from the place on the couch in his room they had been sitting on, making their way around his bed as quietly as they could. Just in case they weren’t, Yuu watched him for a moment longer, trying to study Malleus’ face in case they saw this again and could find the signs. Just in case they weren’t, they took his hand, ever-so-gently.

Softly, carefully, lovingly, Yuu leaned down, coming close enough so that they could hear the feather-soft breaths Malleus took. Like a timeless incantation, an ancient spell, they whispered his name. And then they pressed their lips against his, so terribly filled with adoration that they thought their heart might nearly burst.

It did not, thankfully. When Yuu pulled away, they watched as the fae’s eyes opened slowly. They saw the exact moment that Malleus saw them, making those beautiful rings of flame crackle and warm and blaze all at once. “Did you dream?” they asked, finding that their curiosity was getting the better of them.

Malleus smiled, and Yuu’s heart nearly burst a second time. His smile was the most ethereal thing they had ever seen. “I did,” he answered, finding that his hand was in theirs and holding it tighter. “I dreamt of you and I, in a field of flowers as the sun set.”

Yuu couldn’t help but smile back, when their heart didn’t break again to instead swell with warmth. “That sounds beautiful.”

He hummed, and the sound revealed how sleep still had the faintest of holds on him. “You are much more beautiful than any dream of you would be,” Malleus whispered, bringing their joint hands up to his lips to kiss. “Thank you for waking me so that I may behold the real you.”

Jack worked hard. Everyone knew this, from how he woke up hours earlier than his dorm to train more even before they did as a whole. He didn’t slack on his studies either, much to his professors’ appreciation. And for all the effort he put in, he knew where his limits were. It was one of the reasons why Yuu admired him so much, even when they were long into knowing each other.

He woke up much earlier than Yuu, to the point that they almost had no hopes of waking up before him. However, rare were the nights that he went to bed after them, thanks to his equally early bedtime. It almost terrified Yuu sometimes, how he could stay so devoted and consistent to his schedule. With all the hectic things Night Raven College threw at them, the prefect had a less-than-stellar sleep routine more often than not. Jack, in a way that just made Yuu’s heart melt all over again, tried to help them as much as he could to fix it, but it too failed more often than not.

The one good part about it, Yuu supposed, was that it could lead to times like now. Jack had come over to Ramshackle to study with them, since they had a test coming up in their Defensive Magic class. Yuu couldn’t cast spells, but that didn’t stop them from having to do the same written test as the rest of the class. For the practical part of the exam, they had to rely on Grim and hope that he did well enough to pass the two of them. Jack, thankfully, was making sure that the direbeast didn’t leave that up to chance.

A few hours into their study session for the written test, however, Yuu had found that they were more amused by watching Jack gradually become sleepier and sleepier. It was a mixture of adorable and endearing, the way that he had to keep jerking his head back up the moment it started to fall to instead answer one of Yuu’s questions. Maybe they were being a little mean, the way that they were purposefully asking more than they had to in order to make it last for longer. 

Yuu had been smart enough to at least ask the more difficult questions in the beginning of their time together, so now they were more messing with Jack than anything at this point. They suppressed a giggle when they looked up from their textbook to see his eyes half-lidded and still rapidly drooping. “Flora’s weak against water-defensive spells, right?” they asked.

Jack hummed. Yuu couldn’t stop the breathy laugh that escaped them when his eyes finally closed, watching at how that made his ears swivel to focus on the sound. But he didn’t react to it any other way, as his head dipped to his chest. “Jack,” they called softly, when he didn’t lift it up again.

He’d finally fallen asleep, Yuu realized, when they said his name two more times with no response. Maybe that was for the best, if they were being nice. But Yuu wouldn’t be a Night Raven College student if they weren’t a little cruel, so instead, they leaned over. Jack was so tired that he almost didn’t react to when they kissed his cheek, which made them smile all the more.

“Jack,” they tried, one more time. “Don’t sleep like that.”

With two more kisses to his cheek, his eyes finally fluttered. One more to his forehead, and they opened, as he raised his chin back up with a small grunt. “Sorry.” It took almost all his strength to say just that one word, Yuu saw, and they couldn’t help but giggle.

“Let’s go to bed,” they offered, with one last brush of their lips against his temple. Jack hummed again.

Yuu and Rook, in a way that would hopefully keep the latter from actually hunting the former, had come up with a strange little game the two of them would play. It had started so long ago that Yuu couldn’t even remember the exact day, and became such a habit that they didn’t want to stop, either.

Whenever one of the two of them found the other sleeping, they would try to wake them up in the way that all the timeless legends did: with the hero giving the rescued the gentlest of kisses. More often than not, Yuu was woken up by the soft brush of Rook’s lips against their brow, or their cheek, or even their hands. More often than not, Grim woke up shortly after Yuu to be scared into having a small heart attack at the sudden presence of the hunter.

At this point, Yuu couldn’t even begin to count how many times Rook had woken them up. On the other hand, they couldn’t even fill one listing the times that they had woken up Rook. Even when he spent the night at Ramshackle, or they had a sleepover at Pomefiore, they always fell asleep before he did and woke up to see him already awake. Yuu was beginning to think that he just didn’t sleep.

Until, one day, when they had been strolling through the forest, it happened.

Yuu didn’t know who or what was on their side, but everything had to have aligned perfectly for this to happen. They walked around a tree only to nearly jump when they caught a glimpse of his golden hair catching the sunlight on the other side, hat removed to better let him sleep.

He was beautiful asleep, just as he was when his emerald eyes were open. Yuu immediately tried to make every movement, every individual breath become as silent as possible, if only just to take in this rare sight before it disappeared once more. For all the time that Rook had spent praising their resting expression, Yuu had half a mind to do that to him, too. 

Carefully, they took another step closer. When that didn’t make so much as an eyelash quiver, Yuu took another, slowly but surely getting closer to the hunter. How funny it was, they thought, that their roles had finally been reversed. 

Somehow, they had gotten close enough to Rook to be able to touch him, and he had still not awoken. Yuu breathed a silent thanks to all of the Seven, alongside whatever deities and lucky stars they’d been blessed with as just as tentatively, they crouched next to him. Closer now, Yuu could see all the better just how stunning Rook was. For all the words he said admiring beauty, Yuu decided there and then that they would say the same number about Rook.

They leaned forward, softing pressing their lips against the apple of his cheek. And the moment they did, they felt the way that Rook had started to smile, unable to hold it back any longer. “Beautiful, Trickster. That was merveilleux.” His smile turned a little teasing, a little predatory as his eyes glinted. “It will take more than that to sneak up on me, however.”

“I knew it.” Yuu sighed, making Rook laugh as they unceremoniously plopped down next to him. “Do you have any tips?” they couldn’t help but ask, as one of Rook’s arms came to wrap around them.

“A hunter cannot reveal all his methods, mon coeur. You’ll simply have to practice.” Yuu didn’t know what to think, when they were met with another one of his beautiful smiles when they frowned up at him. At least they won a little, though. They won a little more when they kissed his cheek again, making a shade of pretty pink dust his face.

It was almost impossible to find someone who took gaming any more seriously than Idia Shroud. That was why, at the same time, it was almost impossible to find someone who slept less than him, be they fae or human. Most times, Yuu would try to work with Ortho to make sure he actually took care of himself and actually slept instead of just chug energy drinks like they were water.

Tonight was not one of those nights, however, because they had been challenged to a bet. Idia, with the cocky smirk that almost seemed to be exclusively for them in the safe confines of his room, had gloated that there was no one who could beat his times in a racing game. Yuu, considering themself something of a rising gamer ever since becoming the Ignihyde housewarden’s go-to player two, thought that maybe it would be something if they beat him at his own game.

Yuu had known it was going to be hard, but not as hard as it was. The moment Idia had heard that, he’d held nothing back, getting a time even better than what was already stored on his console to nearly make Yuu just give up right then and there. But if nothing else, Yuu was resilient, and they went right to trying to getting the gold ranking and knocking Idia’s character down a peg.

Once they got going, Yuu had no idea how much time passed. It was long enough to make Idia drop out and go finish his dailies on all his other games before midnight passed, at the very least. After that, Yuu had thought that he would have joined them again, but they stayed the only player.

After their latest attempt ended in another failure—Idia was still faster by a whopping 3.20 seconds—Yuu let their hands drop into their lap, sighing as they let their head fall back to hit the mattress from where they’d been stationed on a bean bag on the floor. “Idia, where was that one glitch again?” they asked, finally getting the resolve to slide their eyes over to him to see the told-you-so grin he’d give them—

—only to be met with nothing but closed eyes and a peaceful expression, as his head rested on folded arms. He’d been laying on his stomach on his bed in order to still see the screen while he’d been using his phone, but now even that device was left discarded to the side, as he took soft, even breaths while the screen dimmed and finally shut off from inactivity.

Maybe it was a little too late, or maybe Yuu had spent a bit too much time gaming, but this felt like a scene straight out of one of the dating sims they’d played with him. Looking over to see that Idia’s face was so close to them, so close that they could kiss him if they just moved so much as another few centimeters. They could feel their heart skip a beat, as his hair flickered and waved and surrounded him like a halo.

Idia Shroud was gorgeous, Yuu found themself realizing again. It made them smile softly to see that he had fallen asleep, though it turned a little guilty at the way that they’d kept him up late enough to make him finally just shut down. In a way they hoped would be a good enough apology, they gently leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

That made him flinch slightly, humming ever-so-softly as his brow furrowed. “Idia,” Yuu called gently, making him hum again. They brushed their lips against his forehead now, as his hair flickered when he finally cracked open an eye. “I can’t get it.”

It was because his hair didn’t immediately turn pink from their proximity did Yuu know that Idia was still barely awake. He shifted a little, nuzzling deeper into his arms as his eye threatened to close again. “‘Cause you need the cheat code,” he muttered, words half-slurred. “I’ll tell you it in a sec. Need to…restore mana…first.”

Yuu almost laughed. “Mood.” But then they yawned instead, and decided that maybe their bar was getting a little low, too. They could take a second to refill before they attempted another try.

Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3

[leonw4nter]

HAIII!!! I saw that ur requests r open!! Can u write a death island x gn!reader where the reader squeezes his cheeks n' it's all fluffy n' cute? I feel like behind all that muscle is baby fat that's just MEANT to be squeezed - 🐰

It Only Takes Half A Bottle of Whiskey

DI!Leon x GN!Reader

“Details of the mission coincide with the objectives laid down to consider this mission a success and therefore, I would like to consider this case closed and marked successful. Congratulations to our very own agents Kennedy and L/N.”

The room erupted in claps, lips spreading into relieved smiles. The last mission was not easy, many undertakings taken in order to see the mission to its success and one of the many measures taken was a false marriage between you and Leon, complete with a wedding and wedding bands, as well as expertly fabricated marriage certificates in order to pass as ordinary newly-weds who had normal jobs as IT technicians. The entire ordeal took almost 2 years, which seems plenty to the average person but an incredibly short notice to agents assigned on this demanding commission. Despite the mission being over, you two still had to uphold the married couple facade and keep working on the IT company before drafting letters of resignation in order to not rouse any suspicions with the people who had grown to know and be familiar with you and Leon. One of the procedures involved coming home together holding hands as you passed through the exit, getting in the same car, living under one roof, and retiring in the same bed.

As soon as you two get home, you rush over to collapse on the couch with a loud exhale before taking the glasses off of your face and setting them beside you. You recline your head and run a hand through your hair, eyes shut as you try to block out the noises of the world. Leon removes his dress shoes and walks around the duplex in his black socks, his shoes in one hand and your shoes in the other as he returns them to the shoe cabinet before walking back to the couch and sitting beside you. He takes your glasses and sets them down at the coffee table in front of you and takes his seat, letting out a loud sigh of his own as he gets the remote and turns the TV on to a cooking channel. Shrugging his jacket off, he turns his head to observe you for a moment only to see your eyes staring into the white ceiling of the dim living room.

“You tired?” He asks as he folds his jacket and places it on the arm of the couch, too tired to get up and place them in the bedroom or think of changing into loungewear. You nod, sitting back up as you wipe a hand across your face before reaching to get your glasses and put them back on.

“I need a drink after all that shit,” you groan as you undo one more button of your button-up. Leon hums and turns his attention back to the chef cutting the carrots, which is short-lived as he tilts it again to face you.

“I’ll help you to bed, how’s that sound? It’s better than alcohol.”

“Help me to bed after I have a nice, cold, glass of double-black whiskey.”

With that, you get up from the couch and walk up to the alcohol cabinet to get the glass. As you open the cabinet, you feel a warmth press against your back and see a strong arm reach up for 2 glasses. Leon closes the cabinet door with his free hand and sets two glasses down. His action scared you for a little bit since he walked with virtually no noise and you only felt his presence when his muscled front pressed against you, effectively trapping you in if he planned on hurting you but thank god he didn’t. He takes a jug of apple juice and pours it into his glass instead of the whiskey, which you aren’t too surprised about; he’s been 3 months sober. You just stare at him, admiring the way his arms looked amazing with crisp white sleeves rolled up until his elbows, a hand resting on the marble as he takes the glass and drinks the juice. He raises an eyebrow when he spots you staring in his peripheral, setting the glass down with a small clink against the kitchen counter.

“Like what you see?” He asks with a lazy grin and a wink. You turn your attention back to the glass he set in front of you, staring at it so intensely you would have shattered the glass with the daggers you were shooting with your tired eyes.

“You wish,” you retort as you pour the dark liquid into the glass and toss in a block or two of ice before taking a swig and feeling the liquid burn its way into your system despite the coldness that the ice offered. You hear Leon softly chuckle before having another drink of his fruit juice, his soft gaze watching over you as you take sips and loud sighs after you swallow the amber liquid. You take the tall bottle and your heavy-bottomed whiskey glass and sit down on the wooden floors, placing them down beside you. You take another swig and look at Leon, patting the space beside you.

“Sit,” you say.

“You’re saying that like I’m a dog,” your ‘husband’ responds.

“C’mere, boy! C’mere!” You teasingly say in a higher pitched voice, clapping with both your hands to beckon him to sit beside you.

Leon rolls his eyes but sits beside you, propping one knee up to rest his hand on as he looks at your glass.

“Good boy,” you say with a sly grin.

“Okay you’re a freak,” he says as he jokingly begins to sit up again but not before your free hand shoots up to grasp at his wrist.

“Okay, I’m sorry I won’t do that.”

“Right.”

“Please? Please? C’mon Leon, don’t be boring.”

“Fine.”

You smile and chuckle softly as he sits back down beside you, knuckles occasionally brushing against each other. You two sit in complete silence, the silence interrupted only by the sounds of breathing and sighs. Your gaze fell on the gold band wrapped around the base of your ring fingers, studying the way the light reflected off of the smooth surface. Eventually, your gaze flitted to Leon’s right ring finger to admire his own ring.

“It looks damn good on him,” you thought to yourself. “Damn, marriage is a good look for you, Kennedy.”

He absent-mindedly fidgeted with his ring, tilting and adjusting it; that’s what he always did when he was deep in thought or bored. You noticed it became a habit as soon as you two had to wear these rings everywhere, even on side missions. Although he could remove it when you two were in your own home, he chose to keep it on which you followed suit since it only felt right.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The whiskey soon started tasting like water and now you were down to unbuttoning the second button of your work shirt. It was a little harder to keep your head up now and your lids were threatening to close. You leaned your head on Leon’s shoulder, not missing how you felt him tense up despite your inebriated condition.

“Leon, ’m sleepy.”

He looked at you, seeing how the whiskey caused your cheeks and ears to burn pink like a Fuji apple. Your lids were droopy and your eyes were glossy, an obvious sign that you were drunk and done for tonight. He chuckles softly as he adjusts you so he could carry you to your shared room.

“I’m fine, Leon.” you confidently slur as he lifted your frame up and out of the kitchen.

“Nope, you’re not. We’re going to bed now.”

“C’monnn… I can handle my… liquor like a champ...”

Leon gave you a stern look before setting you down on your side of the bed before making a quick trip back to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water and pills to take. Despite the frequent jokes he made to make you feel a lot more comfortable in his presence, you would be lying if you didn’t enjoy this authoritative side of him outside of the field. He comes back and sets them on your bedside table, making it near enough without making the water prone to spilling due to your uncoordinated state.

“Anything else you need?” He almost slipped up and called you ‘honey’.

“Bath.”

“Gotcha.”

Since it would prove to be too difficult to get you cleaned up right now, he settled on finding a basin and a rag to wash you with. After asking your permission, he removed your garments before wiping you down to let yourself feel a little more clean before a proper bath in the morning and dressed you in a clean shirt and sleep shorts before freshening himself up to get in bed with you and calling it a night. After a few minutes, he got on his side of the bed but still kept some distance so you wouldn’t feel like your privacy was being invaded. He shifted, moving as gently as he could so the mattress wouldn’t move along with him and disrupt your sleep. He finally managed to lay on his side, his arms crossed and his eyes shut but he still kept his ears active. He suddenly remembered something and opened his eyes again; he turned around and glanced at you.

“Good night,” he said.

Normally, he’d add a sappy nickname like “sweetheart” or “honey” at the end to make his husband act feel more natural for him but he decided not to this night since he felt weird. Weird in a way that if he said it, he’d jump out of bed and dive out of a window and plummet into a pool of pink and red heart balloons while glitter bombs went off around him. He knew what he felt but he didn’t want to give it a name and properly label it; he wasn’t even sure if you saw him the same way he saw you. When you didn’t give any kind of response, he turned around and sat up to look at you through the dark, the white streetlights being the only source of light beaming in through gray curtains. He inched closer to see you and placed a finger just underneath your nostrils, hoping to feel a soft gust of warm air be expelled. When he felt that, he placed a finger on the pulse point of your neck before concluding that you really are fine, just deeply asleep.

He chuckles to himself, smiling softly as he extends a hand to brush some hair away from your forehead. Before he can stop himself, that small gesture turns into him adjusting the duvet so you wouldn’t sweat under warm bundles of fabric sometime in the night. Now, he’s trapped in your arms when you quickly extend your arms above you and yanked him down to your body. All while your eyes were still shut.

He could easily escape and retreat back to his side of the bed and really call it a night this time but he doesn’t. He decides to stay like that for a bit and he knows why but then again, he doesn’t want to name the reason.

“Y’think you’re so slick, Kennedy,” you groggily mumble. His head is pressed against your chest, his arms extended from his side in an awkward position, and he subconsciously holds a breath in.

“Jus’ tell me if you wanna cuddle,” you slur. “I know y’wanna coz I wanna too.”

You pull him off of you and lay him back down on his side of the bed, frozen in shock and baffled at how things have taken for a turn. He lays still and watches you silently with wide eyes, observing you. You crawl near him and stare at him at the side… well, an excuse of a stare since your lids were drooping and you couldn’t seem to get your eyes to focus nicely on him. You sat up and placed a hand on his stubbly cheek, gently rubbing on the bristly cheek with a soft thumb. He tensed at the delicate feel of your hands on his face, handling it with so much care as if he’s a fragile piece of artwork. A pop of color spreads on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you look him in the eyes as if you’re trying to count all the specks of gray he didn’t know his eyes had while trying to fish out a well-hidden feeling within his weary soul.

“Ow!” Leon yelps when you suddenly pinch a cheek of his just as his eyes were about to close and savor the wholesomeness of the moment. “What’d you do that for?!”

“Y’ve got… puffy cheeks. I love that in a man.”

“Puffy cheeks?”

You give his cheek a poke before pinching them again, this time much softer than the first since we voiced out his discomfort. You continue poking and pinching the skin bristly with coarse hairs, occasionally squishing them together to make his lips puckered up. He relaxes eventually, letting you knead and feel his face. He probably had more wrinkles on his face than most men his age do and he knows he doesn’t have the best skin ever and he’s thankful that you’re drunk enough to not notice the blemishes on his face. He wants to let his hands rest on your waist and just let you do your thing but he decides against it; you’re drunk and you aren’t in the clearest headspace right now. Although his intentions with wanting to perch his hand on your waist is nothing sexual, he still doesn’t want to proceed with that.

“Gosh, your spouse after me is going to be sooo lucky,” you mumble. “You’re so sweet, kind, sexy as fuck… you’re also intimidating sometimes but you’re like a teddy bear.”

“Teddy bear, huh?”

“A teddy bear with… a teddy bear strapped with guns, bullets, and knives.”

“A teddy bear that can’t get through airport security, basically.”

His response makes you laugh a little louder than it should have, a hand falling to your chest and you throw your head back. Leon didn’t think his joke was that funny until you laughed and chortled, grinning and beaming like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore if no one else laughed at his lame jokes as long as you did. And what did you mean “spouse after me”? Would he be able to find someone else after your “marriage” is dissolved? He fears that he wouldn’t love as truthfully and wholly as he does with you, that his soul would always look for you in the people he’d see. What if he wants his spouse to be you, even after this mission? “Agent L/N” is for everyone to praise but at the end of the day, Y/N will be his to love. You adjust yourself and nearly plop on his side, tucked underneath his arm with one hand still on his face. Slowly, you grow drowsier as sleep pulls you deep in its embrace.

“Just… for yawn tonight,” you softly whisper while safely tucked into his side.

“You can… forget this, if you want.” Another yawn before you totally fall asleep again.

“Gosh, that hangover is going to kill you tomorrow.” Leon whispers as he adjusts the sheets over your sleeping frame again.

He shifts in the bed, making sure the arm you’re laying on is still; he wants to move it around and get circulation back in that arm again but he’d deal with a purple arm in the morning if it meant giving you a nice rest before the alcohol in your system hits you like a train tomorrow. He gazes at the ring on his hand one last time and feels a surge of joy and pride in his heart, hoping that you feel the same when you look at your own ring.

NOTE - Before I update y'all with stuff going on in my life rn, I just wanna thank 🐰 anon for this request, I hope you liked it <3 OKAY. So I was gone for almost a month because so much happened in the time that I wasn't posting much-- I passed an entrance exam to a school I will transfer to after this year is over (I'm still in the process of passing requirements), I decided to start a Chris Redfield mochiposting IG account, I got lost in another town with my classmate while walking to a groupmate's house (a man was following us both but luckily nothing bad happened to us), I got sick twice in a row in a single month (1st time: screamed too much during a sports fest, did not drink water bc there was no water around the place; 2nd time: I was running low on sleep and did not have time for a break bc of the things I was doing), I had two infections in two different systems in my body (the same time as I got sick in the aforementioned stuff :3), and had my first ever sleepover at my BFF's house (slept at 4am cb we were eating and cooking so much while watching Demon Slayer). I also nosebled while watching filmvxq's (on TT) edit (the one w Take My Breath Away as the audio) and got really lightheaded... this isn't the first time btw <33 I also nosebled over a Vergil edit and I don't know how I keep doing this <33 My neck hurts so much and I have a crippling sushi addiction. SPEAKING OF SUSHI (what I'm about to say next has no relation), I got this TikTok about tubifex worms in a dirty sewer just before I took a bath and I was so disgusted, I was fighting for my life trying not to think about the worms while I was drenched in water. Also, my grades release next Friday and I hope those grades are somewhat sexy bro I can't go to another school with the nastiest math grade... I'm very number stupid... NEWAYS, that's all and thank you for reading my fics!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[soxcietyy]

my request is yuta finding readers toys and testing it on her the next time they do the deed 🙏🙏

Rating’s

This is embarrassingly late, I’m so sorry 😭🙏🏼

Nobara comes over to your house with a mystery box just to be disappointed with the contents inside. Yuta shows up unexpected and seems very interested in it.

"Hey! Guess who finally got the goods! Can’t wait to see what’s in here." Nobara said as she stood in front of your door with a cardboard box in her hands. It took you a second to even figure out what in the world she was talking about. What plans could of you guys made that you had forgotten about?

Ah yes last week she had mentioned that she made a new friend who owned a company. He said that he needed people to review his new products before he could launch them in his shop. Before he could reveal what it was Nobara stopped him, telling the guy that she wanted it to be a surprise. She promised to run over here once she received the package so you guys could be surprised together.

"What do you think it could be? Clothes? Food? Candy? Skincare? Makeup?!" Nobara said excitedly as she squeezed passed you. She didn’t need permission to enter because she would barge in even if you said no.

Walking into your apartment she decided to put the box on the coffee table. A loud thud could be heard as it made contact with the glass top. She took a seat on the floor as she waited for you, excited to see what was inside. She almost looked like a kid eager to open there gift. That would have to wait a second though. Walking to the kitchen you grab some wine glasses and a bottle so you guys could enjoy together. Whatever it was would go perfectly with a cold bottle of wine.

"Hurry up!" She says as she crosses her arms.

Yyou let out a sigh as you lean on the island, then you tell her to open the tape up while you poured drinks.

"I’m so excited!" Nobara says as she pulls out her keys and drags it across the tape to tear it open. While she did that you opened the bottle and poured the drinks into the glass. Once you had finished you approach her and place the cups down. Nobara didn’t want to waste anymore time, she pulls you towards her so you could look above the box with her.

"Okay I’m going to open it in three, two, one."

She opens the box to reveal what’s inside. Both of you look at each other in shock. It was a box full of toys and they weren’t the kid friendly ones. You put your hand inside and pull out a pink silicone toy in the shape of a male body part. You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your friend.

"That disgusting monster!" She says in disbelief.

"Hey now, I’m sure he was going to tell you what it was before you stopped him." You say defending the man.

She rolls her eyes as she sits back down on the floor with her legs crossed. As she continued to pout you pull out some lube that was brand new and sealed. You quirk your brow as you read the flavor of the lube, popcorn… interesting.

"Common Nobara this isn’t bad at all! You don’t get laid enough so I think this could help you out." You tease.

"Ha Ha, very funny y/n" she stood up abruptly and started to walk away.

You furrow your brows as you turn to look at her. "Where are you going?" You ask

"I’m not intrested in this kind of stuff, you’ll probably use it well. Your man probably doesn’t satisfy you enough so have fun." She says throwing shade back. As she opens the door you see someone standing in the door way. Her jaw drops when she noticed it was Yuta.

Speak of the devil.

"Uh y/n … Yuta is here."

You quickly put everything back and kick the box on the floor behind you once you heard those words fall out her mouth. You had forgotten that he mentioned coming over today. You didn’t need him finding such things in your house, he’d get the wrong idea. You scramble to stand up with the glass of wine still in your hand. Taking a sip of your drink you run to the front door. To find him with a concerned look.

"You okay? You look pale." Yuta steps inside and holds your face to examine it.

You kindly put his hands down and assure him you’re fine. Your friend on the other hand had already made her escape. Seems like she didn’t want to be apart of what might happen in he finds the box.

Shutting the door behind him you watch him make his way to your couch. Maybe he would ignore the box. You had it closed so he wouldn’t open it right? He tends to respect your privacy after all.

You stood by the door watching him anxiously walk past the box. He took a seat and turned his attention to the tv that had drama playing. You sigh in relief seeing he had no interest in the box.

"You want some wine? Nobara didn’t even take a sip out of hers, it would be a waste." You say heading towards him.

"Yea I’ll drink it but could you please bring me some cheese and crackers? You know I cant have wine without them." He asks you nicely as he sat up from the couch to take a whiff of the wine.

You make your way in the kitchen and start making him his plate. While you did that you could hear him shuffling around, most likely getting comfortable. You couldn’t help but look over him a few times as you were occupied. Eventually you got fully focused on cutting the slices perfectly that you forgot to check on him. While cutting last bit of cheese you decide to look up but when you did the knife in your hand drops. Yuta was sitting on the couch with the box in his hands wide open.

He looked at you and the box back to back until he decided to place the box down to approach you. He had a concerned look on his face as he grabbed your hands.

"Am I not enough? You could told me this, no need to resort to that kind of stuff." He says with a sad tone.

You couldn’t help but stare blankly at him.

"N-no! Yuta you have the wrong idea. Nobara came over to drop thoes off so me and her could test them out." You say panicked.

You watch as his jaw drop from disbelief. Of course you worded it wrong. "Her friend owns a company and they have these new products! He needs a review before he drop it. Of course we’re not going to test them out together! Apart because we’re not like that."

He drops your hand feeling at ease with your answer.

"I’m relieved but you’re going to use these on your own? I doubt you would know how to use them." Yuta said as he walked to the box and pulled out a rose toy. Turning it in different directions so he could get a good look at the weird contraption.

"I’m more than capable of figuring it out." You roll your eyes.

He stalks back towards you as he held a wand vibrator in his hands. Bringing it near him mouth to use it as a microphone. "Two reviews are better than one." Yuta says as in the "mic" .

Putting the wand down next to the cutting board he pulls out the rose, clearly being interested in that one the most. He lifted you up and sat you on the counter you down on the counter. Pulled your night gown up as he tried to figure out how to turn on the flower.

Grabbing it from his hand you slowly direct your finger towards the power button so he could see. Once you pressed it, it started to vibrate in your hands letting out a humming noise. He quickly grabbed it to feel the vibration in his hands. A small smile appeared on his face as he put it against his hand.

"This has power." He says as he felt how strong and fast it was. Bring his hand down he tried to put it against your privates but you stopped him by covering the area.

"You’re not going to wash it first?" You looked at him.

He quickly turned on the faucet that was next to you and washed it with soap and water. He came back immediately to not ruin the mood. He then brings up the toy to his mouth and begins to lick it.

You were in disbelief from his actions. He was licking it and swirling his tongue on it as he pulled your panties to the side. He then pressed it on you once he was satisfied with the wet coat he had just created it. You jolt at the sudden vibration it created. You bite your cheek as you grab into his shoulder for support. You never really used something like this because there was no need. Yuta managed to satisfy your needs easily so this was entirely new to you.

Yuta would gradually go fast and faster until you were at your climax but this toy got to the point. It didn’t take long before your legs are shaking and your grip on him tightened. You begged him to not press it up your bran to hard but he didn’t listen. Instead he studied your facial expressions and mocked you when you would open your mouth from pleasure. Asking if you like this better than him.

You would shake your head but he didn’t stop. He was clearly trying to teach you some sort of lesson but it wasn’t getting quite through. Not even ten minutes passed and you were orgasming in his hand.

"Five stars" he says as he walks away.

While you try to catch your breath you find him Infront of you once again. You were surprised he came back so quickly. He saw your struggle to get down so he helped you down with one hand. You lean onto him as you try to regain your composure but he gave you little to no time as he bent you over the counter and shoved something in you.

You gasp at the sudden familiar feeling of being full. It wasn’t as filling as you were used to taking but it still felt amazing Turning back at him you see Yuta with an intrigued look. He pulled out the object out of you and slammed it back inside. You let out a loud cry from pleasure. He then pulls it in and out in a steady pace as he watched you squirm. You beg him to slow down In between moans.

You try to grip onto the counter as he pounded you with the toy. Hitting the right spot over and over again.

"This mouth was so hungry for something huh? Look at her drooling all over this toy." Yuta says as your juices run down his hand. You close your eyes out of embarrassment. Your legs loosing the will to support you in the process. Yuta was quick to catch you before you could fall.

He ended up paying on the couch While resting your body on his chest. You relaxed in his embrace until you felt the toy go back inside you. You look up at him with an annoyed look.

"What? We need to rate this toy. Won’t be possible until you finish." He kisses your head as continued were he left off. You grip his shirt as he started slamming the silicone toy in you. Body jolting everytime he dug it deep inside your body. Was he really planning on testing everything out on you? There was no way anyone could go through such a box. That’s at least twenty five orgasms in one go.

Another orgasm rippled through your body. You moan out his name as you grab his arm that was helping move the toy in and out of you.

"Seven, took you way too long to orgasm. Even I can do it in less time, it got the job done though. 3 stars."

"No more" you croak out in desperation.

"Why not? We just got started." Yuta sits you on you couch.

You pull your dress down with a flushed face.

"I can do the rest in my own with my own pace. Plus these toys are usually meant for self pleasure. It wouldn’t be fair to rate them together." You say hoping that wound stop him from continuing.

"Oh" he says "then masturbate with them."he says.

"I will, eventually." You say as you grab the toy Yuta was using as a microphone not too long ago.

"Do it right now, Infront of me." He tilts his head.

You look at him shocked.

"I couldn’t possibl-"

He grabs your hand with the toy and pushes it down there. You swallow hard as he looked into your eyes.

"I won’t touch you. I won’t bother you." He smiles as he sits on the couch opposite from you. "I’ll just sit here."

You bite your lip as he tells you to go on. You have no choice but to listen. Pulling your panties down you put your legs on the couch. Spreading them apart until he had a full view of everything. You watch as his hands roam on his pants. Caressing his member that rested under those pants.

Closing your eyes you turn on the device and put it on your bud. You let out a shameful moan out immediately because you were already so sensitive. You rubbed it up and down your area. Hips rolling back and forward from pleasure.

It felt so good but something was missing. You couldn’t think of what it could be. Maybe more of a stronger vibration? A faster speed? A better shape? Or maybe it was the man Infront of you.

You let out whimpers as you open your eyes too look at him. He was sitting down watching you pleasure yourself from afar. Eyes not looking away from you even for a second. You couldn’t help but wish for him to touch you and to do more.

"Yut-a" you flutter your eyes at him.

He tried his best not to respond since he said he wasn’t going to bother you but the look you were giving him made him turn on his words.

"Yes baby?" He asks.

"I want you to do it form me." You say.

Yutas leg jolted from excitement but he knew he shouldn’t. Still he stood up and approached you. Sitting on the floor right in front of you.

"Common baby you can do it." He says moving your hand a bit lower so you could get a better position on it. The small movement made a huge difference. You were now squirming like crazy. Legs twitching uncontrollably. All that came out your mouth now was your moaning and small profanity’s. Yutas name coming out time by time which he loved.

"Such a good girl, come for me no?"

He said as he kissed your thighs up and down, trying not to intervene too much. You cry out his name once more as you came. Body completely shutting down on you. Yuta was quick to move the toy out the way and bury his face in between your legs.

"Y-Yuta!?" You squeal

You tried to push him away but he was not moving until he decided he was. He ended up eating you out until he left you clean.

"Sorry I couldn’t help myself."

[actiniumwrites]

hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you’re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

[pers1st]

people help the people

pairing: lucy bronze (platonic) x reader

notes: mentions of suicide, not really ahappy ending, whole lotta angst, don't read if you're not in a good place.

i lost my best friend to suicide about a year ago and it's genuinely been the hardest thing of my life to go through, and even though i feel incredibly selfish for comparing my pain to hers, i just hope that everyone who's in a bad place will feel better soon. your death will hurt people, even if you don't believe it. my messages are always open !!

“Heartbreaking news have hit the football community earlier this morning as Arsenal have confirmed the death of young defender, Y/N Y/L/N. The club has stated that Y/L/N, who also played for the Lionesses, was found dead in her apartment late last night. Her death has been ruled as suicide. Other than that, both the club and the FA have asked for privacy as they deal with this tragic loss. The matches of this week will take place as usual, though the teams have agreed collectively to wear black armbands, along with having a minute of silence ahead of the match’s begin.”

The internet was a cruel place, Lucy realized a week after your death. There were countless articles, invasive messages, offensive comments about how and why your presence had been tragically ripped away from this world. She didn’t understand - how could she? Lucy liked to believe that the two of you had a real bond, with you only being nineteen years old and looking up to Lucy as if she was a Goddess, following her every step, studying her every move, clinging onto her every word as if she spoke a prayer. The admiration wasn’t one-sided, either. Lucy looked up to you. How could she not? You were so young, and faced with so much adversity - the fact that you were as professional as you were at such a young age, you impressed Lucy. You had. Until Keira had filled her in on the news ahead of a training session at Barcelona, shattering Lucy’s heart in the process. You had reached out to Lucy a lot, but never about anything this serious. You had told Lucy a lot of things, but nothing grave enough a reason to take your own life. 

Admittedly, she knew the odd joke you had made - when you had slipped on the ball in front of the whole team, crashing down onto your stomach and banging your head enough to leave a glaringly obvious bump on your forehead, only to realize that the media staff had caught the moment and posted it to TikTok mere moments later. You had said, then, that you might as well have offed yourself. Lucy had laughed. Leah, who had been standing closeby, had laughed. You had laughed as you said it, but the words didn’t leave Lucy’s head anymore. You had said it. Right in front of her. How could she not have noticed?

It took minutes for Lucy’s face to be drenched in tears, hours until she would leave the medical room, which Keira had cleared and led her into, knowing very well that Lucy would not want anyone to see her raw emotions, days until Lucy returned to training, and months for anyone in the football community to address the situation. Mental health. Mental illness. Lights and shadows that came with being exposed to such brutal schedules, invasive comments, being shown off for everyone to see while no one ever required to know anything substantial. People wanted funny comments, smiles, laughter. No one ever cared about the weight dragging any players down, until it was too late - Lucy realized, as everyone and their mother seemed opposed to even speaking your name, only that energy into  searching, very openly, both in comment sections or live on broadcasted TV, for the reason you had left life behind. Lucy searched for it too, though more secludedly.

She re-read your messages for hours, in the little light the moon provided as it fell through the cracks of her bedroom window, deciphering each and every letter, pronouncing the words out loud in different tones, scrolling through your social media to search for any clue. You had had your fair share of problems- you had told Lucy about them. You hadn’t been a big fan of the fans seemingly taking property of you. You hadn’t been ready for the pressure that you would be put under after another one of your defenders was injured and you were re-called from your loan to step into the position immediately. You hadn’t dealt well with the lack of your parents’ presence. Though you had still lived with them, they had rarely attended your matches, always able to come up with an excuse, one that you believed. You had defended them, shielding your family from Lucy's criticism when you had let her know, in another disappointed text message, that they hadn’t been able to make it. You hadn’t wanted to accept the fact that they simply weren’t interested in your career, and Lucy had accepted that. 

Now, though, she wondered whether you had silently accepted it, and been too ashamed to admit it. Lucy knew that it wasn’t your fault - you had been the biggest ray of sunshine, even through your difficulties. You had managed to put a smile on everyone’s face, even though you had always been a little shy. You had been sweet, and kind, and gentle. Had Lucy been your parent- she would’ve let everyone know, would’ve shown you off to the world with pride, would’ve been there for everyone of your big moments. She had managed to fly out for the Conti Cup final, together with Keira, to watch you win the second domestic trophy in your senior career, only this time it was as a key-player rather than a super-sub. 

Lucy was never really able to figure out your exact reasoning - perhaps that was the deal with mental illness. It was an illness. Perhaps there was no reasoning, perhaps the whole point of being ill was the fact that a healthy person would never be able to grasp the darkness that clenched your soul and inevitably drove you to death. If Lucy had learned one thing, though, it was the fact that she was never going to let anyone feel like you must’ve, ever again.

She had seen your parents during the funeral, had witnessed what your death had done to the people, who, though she never really liked them, had raised an absolutely incredible girl. She had seen your room, per her parents request, had seen the blood stained tiles on your bathroom floor, had heard your mother’s mumbled apology for not being able to clean it all. She had seen where you had spent your very last minutes, and she had thought about what must’ve been going on through your head, and it had almost suffocated her. And that was how she found herself here - in a studio in London on her rare off day, with Sky Sports, in an interview room that felt uncomfortable, a seat that pressed into her back, and a microphone in her sweaty hands. 

“I just think that mental health is so, so important. I don’t know what it’s like to feel like… to feel like there’s no way out anymore, but I do know what it feels like to lose a person to their illness. It’s brutal. It makes you think you’ve failed them, and it makes you want to wish you had done more. I don’t want anyone to experience that.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, glancing at the reporter next to her. The man was kind, he handled the interview with delicacy. Your death had shocked the world, and by now, people knew to be respectful. Enough time had passed. Everyone had gotten over the initial shock. Everyone was left behind with that same distaste in their mouth and a hole in their stomach. People were delicate, when they mentioned you. They were still wearing black armbands in the WSL, and Lucy still wore the bracelet she had been given by your parents, taping it up for every match, letting any of her lioness teammates kiss her wrist whenever they scored. 

“Is that why it’s so important to talk about this, to you?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely part of it. But I think most of all, I think we need to speak about it for Y/N. I think if we’d had this kind of open conversation a few months ago, she would’ve maybe reached out, you know. If I had educated myself on the topic better, maybe I could’ve seen the signs. I think it’s more for the people who feel the way she felt. If we can make even a single person reach out for help when they initially wouldn’t, I think it’s paid off.”

The man nodded. 

“It’s just… you know. There’s always another way. Even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t know what it’s like to go through suicidal tendencies, but I do know what it’s like to feel sort of, hopeless. And I know that whatever happens, the world is a better place with you in it. Suicide is such a cruel way to go. I’ve wondered a lot, you know, whether she’s happier now, but I don’t think she is. Y/N had so many ambitions, so many dreams. She had such a bright future and yeah, for a mental illness to rip that away from her, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Lucy sniffed, the tears dwelling in her eyes by now. She had never spoken about your death publically. No one had, not exactly. Sure, there had been underlying comments, minutes of silence and the odd mention of your name, but people had been cautious to actually speak about the situation. She couldn’t blame them, because fuck- this hurt. She saw your face whenever she closed her eyes. She heard your voice whenever she couldn’t sleep, your laughter was engraved into her brain. There would not be a day in her life that she didn’t miss you. It hurt. A lot. The realization that you weren’t just a few countries away, that you wouldn’t call her back later, that you wouldn’t call her after an important match or visit her in Barcelona like you had said you would.

“You’ve been kind of hesitant to agree to this interview. Why do you think that is? I mean, no one has really spoken about Y/N’s death as openly as you have.”

“Yeah, I think it’s difficult. To admit this kind of pain. I mean- it shouldn’t be, you know? I think it’s important to speak about this kind of loss and all the hurt that comes with it. Not out of a place to put blame, I’d never blame her. But just to, yeah, make people realize how bad this kind of loss hurts. How much people miss her, because we all miss her, even though some people are hesitant to say it out loud.”

“How do you feel about people being so hesitant?”

“I don’t think you can blame them, you know. Grief looks different for anyone. And I guess I’m a fixer kind of person. I want to fix things, and even though I’ll never be able to, you know, fix this, I do hope that by speaking up about this, I can potentially save someone from doing the same thing. Let people know that mental health should never be a taboo, encourage people to speak up before it’s too late. Because the world will miss you, even if you don’t think it will. The world is a different place without you in it”, she concluded, though she was mostly speaking to you.

It was true. The world was different, now that you were gone. Your friends- mostly the younger girls in the Arsenal squad, seemed to be less talkative. Arsenal was a different place- Leah had told Lucy during your funeral. Everyone was a little less talkative, the loss hanging heavy over the team. Kim worried a lot, about the younger ones, whereas the older, more experienced players, dealt with the same kind of guilt Lucy felt. 

Barcelona was different too, though you had never played there. Alexia and Patri seemed to be checking on everyone a little more frequently, holding the team together, making sure everyone was okay. Lucy wasn’t, of course, though her team tried their best to help her move forward.

She did, eventually. England camps became less heavy, and when England won the Euros in 2025 again, during Lucy’s last match, she held up your shirt proudly, keeping the medal that had your name engraved in it, without shedding a single tear. When Arsenal won the Super League that year, they did the same thing. Lucy still felt a pinch in her chest everytime one of your teams reached another milestone, because she had wanted you to experience those kind of things. You deserved to experience your first league title, your second Euros, but more than anything-

She envisioned the life you could’ve lived, away from football. You deserved to fall in love, to visit Barcelona and every other place in the world you would’ve wanted to. You deserved to move out of your parents home into your first ever flat, you deserved to get a kitten and name it something ridiculous, the way you had always planned. You deserved to feel the rays of sun on your skin on the odd day it didn’t rain in London, you deserved to go on another trip to Ibiza and terrorize the rest of the girls in the club for another night. You deserved to be a bridesmaid at a wedding, the way you had always wanted to. You deserved a lot more than dying at nineteen. Everyone did. And Lucy would spend the rest of her career, potentially the rest of her life, making sure that people who felt the same way you had would feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful, would live a little longer. Anything in her power. She would do it all.

[sunkissed-zegras]

★ DOMESTIC GOODNESS ─── NM⁰ ft. UCONN WBB MANAGER

❪ requested -> "im gonna need more manager!reader x nika soft moments pleaseeeeeee feed my hunger 😔" ❫

─ warnings | absolutely none but domestic bliss between our fav girls and fluffiness, sweet nika!!!

THE SUNLIGHT CAME through the blinds, little by little, casting soft, golden streaks across the room. You stirred from your sleep, feeling the warmth of Nika's body pressed against yours. In the soft morning light, her features were serene, her tousled hair framing her peaceful face.

You felt Nika stir beside you, her arms were wrapped around you as her grip tighten momentarily. She nuzzled closer, reluctant to leave the cocoon of warmth.

“Good morning, beautiful,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep. Her lips brushed against your shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made you smile. You turned to face her, your noses nearly touching as you opened your eyes to meet her gaze.

“Good morning,” you replied, your fingers tracing the lines of her face, committing each curve and contour to memory.

In these quiet moments, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own private sanctuary. None of it mattered anymore ─ all the stress from school and basketball, the demands of everyday life, and the worries that sometimes crept into your thoughts.

Nika’s eyes sparkled with affection as she spoke. “I’m starving,” she confessed, a playful smile spreading across her face. “How about we make breakfast together?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Sounds perfect. But only if you promise not to burn the pancakes this time.”

She feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. “That was one time and it was just because KK and Paige were over, they like to distract me, you know that."

"All I hear is excuses, baby," you tease as you playfully wag your finger at her. "But alright, I'll give you another chance."

Nika rolls her eyes dramatically before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the kitchen. "You won't regret it, I promise."

Reluctantly, you untangled yourselves from the blankets and got out of bed. As you made your way to the kitchen, Nika’s hand found yours, her fingers interlacing with a familiarity that spoke of countless mornings like this one.

In the kitchen, the two of you moved easily, passing ingredients and utensils back and forth with ease. Nika’s playfulness and your shared laughter filled the room, turning the mundane act of making breakfast into a sweet memory.

Once the pancakes were finally ready ─ perfectly golden, thanks to Nika’s improved skills ─ you sat down at the table, the sunlight now flooding the room with a warm, welcoming glow. The scent of freshly cooked breakfast fills the air, making your stomachs growl in anticipation.

You take a bite, savoring the fluffy texture and sweet flavor. "These are amazing," you say between mouthfuls, giving Nika a smile of appreciation.

She grins back at you, her eyes sparkling with pride. "See? I told you I could do it."

"Should've never doubted you, baby." You spoke with your mouth full, earning a laugh from your girlfriend.

You then continued to chat about your plans for the day, about her upcoming games and your snacks for the team, the conversation flowing as easily as the love between you.

As you finish the last of your pancakes, you lean back in your chair with a contented sigh. Nika reaches across the table and takes your hand in hers, her touch sending a warm tingle down your spine.

"Thank you for breakfast," you say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Anytime, love," she replies, her smile soft and sincere. "Anytime."

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[lilghostiequinni]

For All the Times Before

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: driver!female reader(no mention of y/n) x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffyish, Severe Injury, Probably incorrect use of Medical Terms

Summary: She drives with her big brother. Who would've thought Red Bull would have a woman driver; well, maybe it's because she's related to Max Verstappen. Or maybe she's just that good.

Requested: NO / yes

A/N: I did have to take a few creative liberties about the rest of the season.

One can only do so much when being compared to another, especially a sibling, but you prove them wrong at every step. Every single step, you prove you deserve to be racing, that you deserve your seat in Red Bull.

You show you deserve where you got to on your own, no help needed from your father or your big brother, all on you, not a single mistake made by you.

It's proven even more when you pass your brother for points in the race to win the 2024 World Championship, but that's not planned is the total disaster the Las Vegas Grand Prix turns out to be.

It started with the mishaps that happened during free practice on Friday, then the mechanical problems from qualifying on Saturday. Now, even though she made it through and started P2, she was still in the front row behind Oscar in P1 with Lando in P3 and her brother following with both Ferraris after that.

It was going swimmingly, the problems were fixed, and the only obstacle left was finishing in points position in this Grand Prix.

For the first few laps, everything was fine; it was a great race start, which allowed her to overtake Oscar for P1 by turn 1, with Oscar falling to P3 after being overtaken by Lando before lap 1 was over.

By the end of lap 2, you still had P1, but Oscar had fallen behind Max and Carlos for P5, having to hold off Charles for the position.

From lap 3 to lap 28, the places had changed, gaps stayed the same, and there were virtually no position changes from places of point position.

On lap 28, a safety car was deployed out because the cars of Ocon, Riccardo, and Magnussen bumped each other, sending each other into the wall of the race. It wasn't so terrible that they had to stop and restart the race, as everything was able to be moved out of the way and to the pit lanes after just two laps.

Laps 29 - 33 were everyone just getting back on track with the race.

With lap 34, the gaps that had been shortened had expanded exponentially, essentially giving the first five places the ability for a free pit.

Going into lap 35, those huge gaps shorted.

36 - 42 were rather uneventful in terms of what usually happens toward the end with place fighting, everyone stayed in their places, and gaps stayed relatively similar.

In lap 43, Lando tried overtaking multiple times but was forced to back off as Max approached from behind, trying to overtake Lando when he wasn't trying to overtake you.

Onto lap 44, you saw a significant gap gained between you two, almost 12 seconds of a gap, but just as you had been watching Lando, you had been watching Bottas.

It was in lap 45 that it started to go shit Bottas was in the middle of trying to overtake Sargent when they both got the blue flag, and both tried to move over, resulting in a slight accident as you passed, no real damage to your car.

Then lap 46, that gap to Lando stayed in around 12 seconds, but you made it all the way back up to the drivers in 8th, 9th, and 10th place, Gasly, Hulkenburg, and Stroll.

Nothing seemed wrong at first.

Stroll was in 10th. He got the blue flag first, and Hulkenberg was able to pull ahead of him. When he got the blue flag, he wasn't able to pull to the side after he slowed because Stroll was in the way of the rear of his car.

When he tried to pull ahead to get over, Gasly was in the way, having also gotten a blue flag.

You tried to pass as Hulkenberg had to serve to move into the middle of the track to miss hitting the other two drivers, but his front tire got caught in your rear wheel, and you spun out, hitting the wall and not being able to get back in the race.

The rest of the grid was given a red flag just after it happened, and it was seen you were not able to move your car and you weren't responding.

Lando had driven past you, not knowing if you had responded, just hoping you were okay as he made his way to the pit.

But when he pitted and was told you hadn't responded, he was almost able to get back in his car and on the track before he was stopped by his engineer.

So, not able to do much more, he went over to Red Bull, who allowed the exception, knowing how important you are to Lando and Lando is to you.

"Please respond," Lando pleaded to himself as he was given some headphones.

"Ow," was the first that came through your side of the radio.

"Can you get out on your own?" Your race engineer asked.

"No, my leg is stuck, and everything hurts. I want Lando," You say over the radio. It isn't rare that you want your boyfriend after a race or when you get sick or hurt, being extra clingy.

"He'll meet you at med-bay. The med-car is on its way, almost to you, Angel," Your engineer said, using the nickname you'd been given by the entire grid.

You had gone to the med-bay only to be there until the ambulance came.

It was when Lando was allowed in that you learned that the last few laps of the race had been canceled and the places that were last gotten in lap 44 were where people ended, and points were given though the FIA and Formula One were reviewing the causes of the accident and other things that had happened during the race, as usual.

You had been brought to the hospital, and Lando had ridden with you, both per and against your request, wanting your boyfriend and also wanting him to stay and be able to change before having to go in.

When you arrived at the hospital, you were taken for tests, and Lando was to stay in the waiting room as other drivers had arrived at the hospital.

You had been brought back to a room and both your brother and Lando had met you there.

"She's a little out of it, but a doctor will be in shortly. She should be good by then." The nurse said as she went to walk out of the room.

Both men nod, and Lando sits on the side of your bed as Max stands at the foot and looks over his sister, though he knows that he can't see the internal injuries you may have.

Around an hour later, you had woken from the drug-induced sleep and were not so woozy when the doctor came in.

"Hello, Ms. Verstappen, I am Dr. Kruz, and I looked over your tests. You have a linear fracture to your left tibia and a transverse fracture to your left fibula, with minute fractures to a couple of your ankle bones, a couple of small chips, and a fracture to your outermost metatarsal, again on the left side. You also seem to have minimal internal bleeding in your abdomen and a few rib cracks on your left side, with a few bone bruises throughout your ribcage. There are also a few cracks along your left arm that should be fine within a few weeks. I'm sorry to say that you might not be able to finish the season, but I am also not your primary doctor to know enough about how you heal." The doctor tells her.

"I just want to be able to race in that Abu Dhabi in about a month," You tell her; it's one of your favorite tracks, and you'd rather race it to win than miss it.

The doctor gives her a small sad smile before she also leaves to allow the information to sink in.

"You will still probably win the championship; you have points ahead of everyone; it's two races. There aren't enough points to be given out," Lando tries to comfort her.

"I know, but I still want to earn that title, to prove to everyone and myself that it doesn't need to be handed to me," You say to your boyfriend.

It's safe to say that you pushed your recovery more than your trainer, engineer, and doctor would like, but you were back in that car under two weeks later, having appealed to your doctor about the break you would be taking in between seasons.

He reluctantly agreed, having only the major breaks in your left leg and foot to be careful about, and the internal bleeding was relatively better, and you, the primary one you went to in Monaco, came with you to Abu Dhabi.

The team also added some more support to your car and some little monitors for your heart rate and everything else medical, and your doctor stood in the paddock watching over your vitals as you raced, starting P4 behind Lando, Max, and Charles, after a mishap in qualifying.

All gave you a fair race, but you were still able to pull away in first place in the last five laps of the race as you felt pain starting in your leg; you just took a couple deep breaths to calm down, focusing down on the task at hand.

You were so focused on just getting it done you didn't realize that you had just crossed the finish line with a checkered flag signaling the end of the race and your win.

"You did it, Angel. You are a world champion," Your race engineer said over the radio.

You breathe a sigh of relief and just sit on the side of the circuit just before turn 5.

"Do you cool down lap and get to pit," Your engineer says as you pull in the circuit as you do your lap.

You finish the lap and just wait in the car as it's a little difficult to move still, and you lift the visor of your helmet and wipe the tears from your eyes.

Lando and Max come over to your car and help you out, helping you balance on the top of your car with one leg and throw your arms in the air in victory.

YOu get your helmet off and kiss Lando's helmet as he and Max help you away from the circuit and to the way in then to interviews.

A/N: Yes, I did one of these on my own with a reader, not an oc; it felt right. But which do you prefer? I'm done for the night; tomorrow, the first part of my Lando series will be out.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop