#anyway let me tag this with the tags i use on here this blog would be so much more practical if the fandom were more than friends of friends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aliceramblez · 8 months

Text

Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈

Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.

A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!

Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~

Charlie 🌈

When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.

As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.

You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.

As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.

You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.

It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?

But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.

She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”

And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.

She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.

You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.

You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.

Vaggie 🎀

Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.

The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.

“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”

And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.

Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.

“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”

You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.

For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.

During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.

You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!

It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.

Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.

Angel Dust 🕸

Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.

You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.

When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.

This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.

“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”

Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.

As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.

Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.

And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.

Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.

With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.

One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.

You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.

You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.

Husker 🍺

As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.

It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.

Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.

Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.

You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.

Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.

“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”

Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?

After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.

So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?

But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.

To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”

And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.

Sir Pentious 🐍

You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.

As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.

You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.

He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!

You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.

One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.

“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”

You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”

Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.

So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.

Alastor 📻

After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.

As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.

Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.

Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.

“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”

“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”

After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.

You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.

But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.

“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”

The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.

“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”

And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.

Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.

The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).

Like you said—he's not a monster.

Lucifer 🍎

You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.

His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.

Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?

To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.

Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.

“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”

You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.

After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?

Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.

He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.

It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?

Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.

Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”

You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #alastor x reader #sir pentious x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader

4K notes · View notes

kisskuni · 3 months

Text

pet names

↳ pet names that the demon brothers like to call you by. [all brothers x gn!reader]

tags: just fluff! + pet names lol. ‘doll’ is used once, i wouldn’t consider it feminine but take it as you will. otherwise gn :)

notes: first fic on this blog heheh. reblogs are super appreciated, please and thank you <3

lucifer ━━━

a gloved hand runs through black hair, the eldest brother glaring at the paperwork covering his desk. you wonder for a brief moment if he thinks the look he’s giving it will force it away.

“stressed?” you ask him, a teasing tone to your voice.

he hums in discontent. “something like that.”

you straighten from your spot leaned against the door frame and walk over to him. your hands come up to his shoulders and rub at the muscles there, hoping to bring him some sore of relief.

“need any help?” you ask.

“i’m alright, darling, but thank you.” though still clearly stressed, he offers you a small smile.

mammon ━━━

“you will not believe what i just got!”

mammon walks into your room previously unannounced, dorky smile painting his face. he holds up two slips of paper, waving them in front of your face. it takes you a moment to read the writing.

“ooh, are those tickets? for that movie i wanted to see?”

he beams at your excitement. “i’m the best.”

“yeah, you are,” you smile and reach for the tickets in his hands. “thank you so much.”

“anything for you, doll.”

leviathan ━━━

“hey, can you—“ levi speaks to you, but frowns at his game. “no, i can’t heal you. there are two other characters who can.”

you watch him curiously, watch as he rolls his eyes at the person he’s playing with. “what’s up?”

he takes one side of his headset off. “i’m sorry. can you grab me my water? it’s on my nightstand.”

“oh, sure.” you reach over from where you’re tucked comfortably into his bedsheets and grab the water bottle on his nightstand. “here.”

he turns around him his chair to grab the water bottle you toss at him. he catches it easily and smiles at you. “thank you, honey.”

satan ━━━

“are you comfy?”

you sit upright with a small yelp. you look around, gathering your thoughts back. what was supposed to be a quick lie-down on the couch in satan’s room turned into a nap, apparently.

“i- uhm. yeah.” you answer quickly. one hand comes up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“you can rest if you’re tired, my love. i have some reading i wanted to catch up on anyway.” satan says, moving to sit beside you.

you take a deep breath and ponder the offer for a moment. instead of responding, you simply lay back down and use his lap as a pillow. he’ll get the idea eventually.

asmodeus ━━━

the squeal asmo let out was beyond exstatic. he clasped his hands together, smiling ear to ear.

“ah, i’m so excited.” he said, running off to some corner of his room.

“is it really that exciting?”

asmo frowns at you rather dramatically. he feigns a look of offense and continues to his closet, you following a few steps behind.

“oh, i love how this would look on you, cutie.”

you smile fondly at the nickname and continue to watch as he picks out various clothes for you to try on.

beelzebub ━━━

“y’know… doesn’t matter how strong i am, you’re a demon and i really don’t think i’m capable of spotting you at the gym.” you say.

you know he likes to work out, but him lifting weights worried you sometimes.

“it’s alright. i promise i’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

you glare at him. you know he will be, but a little voice in the back of your head won’t let you stop worrying about him. you suppose its a good thing.

belphegor ━━━

“good morning,” you tease, nodding toward the alarm clock that read 4:38 PM. “nice of you to rise so early.”

he grumbles at you, wiping sleep from his eye. he takes one of the pillows he’s been snuggled up with and tosses it at you, playful smile making its way onto his face.

you bat the pillow away, smiling back at him.

“you are so mean.” you claim, though still smiling.

“mhm. whatever you say, lovely.”

1K notes · View notes

highvern · 7 months

Text

Work Me Out

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!

Length: ~5k

Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]

to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.

@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them.

So you go as late as possible.

Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.

Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.

Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.

Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.

You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.

And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.

He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone.

But that doesn’t last long.

“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial.

“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”

Yes.

“No, I can find something else to do.”

You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”

So that’s where he went.

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch.

Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.

He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.

You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back.

“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.

“Three forty? Ouch.”

“What? Should I have made it lighter?”

“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”

“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.

This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is.

And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.

When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And he’s gone.

Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat?

And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.

Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.

Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.

His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.

When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week.

What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips.

And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.

Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit.

Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.

No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.

Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.

“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”

My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….

There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.

Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.

And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.

“Shit,” you grunt.

Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”

“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.

“Sorry, let me just…”

The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.

“Fuck!”

“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.

“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh…”

“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“

The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”

“God, you’re gross.”

Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.

“Sticks and stones,” he hums.

“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”

When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.

“Or we can go back to mine.”

He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.

From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?

The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.

“Yeah, okay.”

With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s.

All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.

Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up.

People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this.

A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.

Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.

“Ugh, this is it.”

His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.

Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?”

Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.

“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”

“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.

“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.

“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”

“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”

Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.

“Wanna give me the tour?”

Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold.

“Why are you over there?” You ask.

With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.

“I’m nervous.”

You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”

Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”

“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.

Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”

Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.

“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”

Oh.

“We don’t hav—”

“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”

You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”

Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.

Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.

He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck.

“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth.

Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.

He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.

“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.

You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”

He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.

Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.

Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.

You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.”

Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.

Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.

He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”

“Give me another and it will.”

You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.

Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.

Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.

You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.

He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.

“Sensitive?”

Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.

The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.

Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.

“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.

You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.

A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.

He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.

You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.

His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.

“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.

It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.

The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”

Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.

“Want it like this?”

“Yeah.”

You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.

The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.

No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”

Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.

“Don’t say that.”

You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.

“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager.

“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”

You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.

Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half.

“Harder,” you beg.

Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.

“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.

His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.

A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.

Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.

“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”

He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.

“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”

The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.

Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.

The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.

You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.

When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.

Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?

“Bathroom.”

Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.

He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case.

And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #🫡 highvern

3K notes · View notes

dyaz-stories · 24 days

Text

casual (1) || gojo satoru x reader

chapter 1: i like the way you kiss me

synopsis: Getting recruited for a double position as a teacher for Jujutsu High in Tokyo and a strategist, tasked with assigning missions to sorcerers in the region is the perfect situation for you. It pays well, it's well regarded, and it's as safe as possible — by sorcerer standards, anyway.

There is one problem though, and his name is Gojo Satoru. The one who's supposed to collaborate with you and answer to you.

The one you can't keep your hands off...

word count: 9.5k

genre: 18+, friends with benefits to lovers, coworkers to lovers, canon divergence, smut, emotional slow burn but they fuck like rabbits

warnings/tags (chapter): fem!reader (she/her pronouns, reader is afab), takes place ~5 years before jjk0, teacher!reader, sorcerer!reader, canon-typical violence, mild angst, smut (semi-public sex, fingering [fem receiving], vaginal sex, sorta dom!gojo, corruption kink if you squint), mentioned slut shaming (not the sexy kind), gojo satoru is a little shit

A/N: This is quite the Behemoth of a first chapter, I'm sorry to say. I love really long chapters, but I can only hope you all do too and this isn't too intimidating! This is a fic I've had in mind for ages and finally got around to start an outline for and actually write it. There are actually a couple of drabbles here and there on my blog for this couple already, happening at various points of their relationship.

I really hope you will enjoy this first chapter!

‘Make use of Satoru Gojo however you see fit.’

Such are the first words spoken to you by the higher-ups, at the end of an exhausting recruitment process. You nod sharply at the instruction.

“Duly noted.”

Truth be told, you don’t see why they need to specify it. You had assumed that went without saying from the very beginning.

The job offer had, at first glance, been for a strategist who would work directly under the higher-ups for the region of Tokyo. Devising teams, advising the council, and assigning missions were supposed to be the main tasks you would have to fulfill.

‘Supposed’ because, when you were one of only three candidates left, the higher-ups had revealed that there was, in fact, a second role you would be expected to perform. One that you had not imagined would be available for decades.

A new teaching position at the Tokyo Jujutsu High School was opening up, though you couldn’t understand why for the life of you. You had no connection to the establishment yourself, having left Japan as a child and trained abroad your whole life, never returning for more than a couple of months at a time, yet you knew, as did the entirety of the sorcerer world, that Satoru Gojo had been appointed there less than a year before. Well, rumor had it that he had appointed himself, and you had to wonder if that was why they were keen to have a more… traditional teacher by his side, since firing him was an option.

In that case, your lack of ties to Satoru Gojo, Masamichi Yaga and to the Jujutsu Headquarters could explain why your name ended up being the last one on the ballot. You were the best placed to be an independent monitor.

The distorted voice keeps going, bringing you back to the present.

“Unless stated otherwise, always send him to battle first.”

You school your face so you do not let any emotion appear, though the statement surprises you. You have to assume that they don’t mean for any mission you receive, because that would be catastrophically ineffective. Then again, sending him on Grade 1 missions, if he is available, makes some sense.

“Report to us if you encounter difficulties with him,” the voice adds before falling silent without elaborating.

You understand, from the finality of their tone, that you have been dismissed, and bow your head, your movements polite and sober.

“Thank you for the trust you are placing in me. I will not disappoint you.”

“We know you won’t,” another sepulchral voice answers.

In the dark, candle-lit room, it sounds sinister enough to chill you to the bone. You wait just a second longer, in case something needs to be added, before turning on your heels and walking away. No one calls you back, and you’re more relieved about leaving the room than you would like to admit.

Outside, the summer sun is high and bright. You tilt your head backwards and close your eyes to let its rays warm your face. It will take a while before the cold instilled in you in that meeting room dissipates.

You’re expected in Jujutsu Tech by the end of August. Being a teacher there is as close to the ideal position as it gets, for a sorcerer. The pay is excellent, the risks minimal, and it commends great respect from the society at large. You have no doubt that, had the offer been for that position in the first place, numerous sorcerers far more qualified for teaching than you are would have thrown their hats in the ring. You wouldn’t have made it past the first interview.

You got lucky. Just this once, you’re going in the right direction.

You inhale deeply. For the first time in a long time, you no longer envision your life as an endless successions of missions, countries, and houses that never become homes.

For the first time in the long time, you think you have a future.

There is a spring in your step when you make your way down the stairs, away from this freezing place and the ghouls that haunt it.

Behind you, the Headquarters; ahead, Jujutsu Tech.

Masamichi Yaga is a cautious man. His handshake is warm and firm when he greets you, and though his voice is calm and steady as he guides you through the hallways of Jujutsu Tech, he remains evasive. He provides all the information you might need, answers any question you have when you ask them without missing a beat, and yet you can tell he is guarded, keeping you at arm’s length.

You cannot determine why that is with certainty, though you have a handful of hypotheses. It could just be that he isn’t used to the presence of strangers. Dealing with a total stranger is a rarity within sorcerer society, even more so in Japan. You doubt that he would know anyone who could talk about you, let alone vouch for you. You understand why that would make you a suspicious character.

Another option is that you were forced onto him as a member of his staff by the higher-ups, though you haven’t heard anything about that. With you being a complete outsider, he would not have any valid reason to outright reject your presence, not when his only teacher is frequently gone for days at a time, but that would not mean that he’d be pleased with it — or view you as trustworthy, for that matter.

The third possibility, of course, is that he just finds you off-putting.

‘Cold’, that’s how you are often described by the people around you. You don’t do it intentionally, but you also cannot pinpoint what it is that you do ‘wrong’. Something about your tone, your expressions, or lack thereof, your cold eyes, the way your mouth naturally curves downwards.

That and, of course, the trail of bad omens that you bring with you everywhere you go.

These don’t tend to be active problems when it comes to sorcerers. With normal humans, now, it’s a different story. Oh, there are exceptions, who find that this all makes you intriguing, but it typically makes it hard to build actual connections with other people. You wouldn’t normally care, but in a situation where you have to collaborate with others, you could see that becoming an issue.

You had seen that coming, of course — it wasn’t like it was new information to you. As a result, you had made sure to be on your very best behavior from the moment you’d stepped foot within Jujutsu Tech grounds. You had nodded with interest, you had reminded yourself to smile, you had asked all the right questions, and yet you could feel that you had not once managed to turn yourself into a likeable person.

Ah, well. Not being likeable would not stop you from doing your job right.

“I’ll introduce you to the rest of teaching staff,” Yaga announces, his voice deep, as he reaches a new door. His hand is hovering over the doorknob when he stills, turning to look at you. “Are you ready for this just now? They were both students here, but I assume this can all be overwhelming for a newbie.”

That is a kind sentiment.

“I’m okay.” Then, because answering in monosyllables is not what likeable people are supposed to do, you add: “I read the files available to familiarize myself with the school grounds before coming here.”

His eyebrows jump up behind his glasses, but it’s followed by a hearty chuckle.

“You’ve come prepared.” He nods, appreciative. “Good. It will be nice to have someone who takes their job seriously around here.”

You don’t have the time to question the sentence before he opens the door.

The room is small and reeks of cigarette smoke. In the middle of it, a desk, and behind it, sprawled on an elegant black chair, a white-haired man that you recognize at first glance. You let your eyes slide over him. You wouldn’t want to look too, um, curious, just yet.

The brown-haired woman with the long white coat who is perched on a window sill, doing her very best to look inconspicuous, is the one responsible for the smell. You identify her as Shoko Ieiri, school doctor and reverse cursed technique prodigy. Next to you, Yaga sighs.

“Shoko,” he protests with a paternal disapproval, “I thought you’d quit smoking?”

“I did,” she answers, staring at him, her eyes dark and tired, “and then I had to regrow a lung. Do you have any idea how much of a pain it is to regrow internal organs?”

A light laugh comes from the man in the middle of the room, and you consider that this gives you permission to look at him without coming off like you’re gawking.

He has his feet propped up on the desk, and he’s using them to push himself backwards in a precarious balance. White hair spills on the dark leather, long arms hang on both sides of the chair, and he hasn’t bothered to so much as glance in your direction so far — or at least, you don’t think he has, because white bandages are wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.

Even without being able to spot their signature blue, you know who he is. There isn’t one sorcerer in Japan, nor in the whole world, who doesn’t know his name.

Satoru Gojo, in the flesh.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way through medical school, it would be easier, don’t ya think?” he asks Ieiri with fond familiarity.

“Don’t—” Yaga takes two steps into the room, kicks the legs from underneath the chair. “—sit at my desk, Satoru.”

Effortlessly, Gojo jumps off the chair before it hits the floor and lands on his feet, facing Yaga. He is just as tall as the Principal, and from the wide grin on his face, it’s obvious that he is thrilled to have gotten a rise out of him.

“Then get me my own office already, what are you waiting for?”

“We’ll see which one of you gets an office first,” Yaga sniffs, and it doesn’t sound like Gojo is at the top of his list. “First, there is someone you need to meet.”

Ieiri has been observing you since you’ve walked into the room, not looking away when you had met her eyes. Yaga’s words have Gojo finally directing his attention to you, though, and something in the room shifts. You can’t see them, yet you know his eyes are on you, dissecting you and your cursed energy, collecting every possible bit of information on you. He walks past Yaga, burying his hands in his pockets as he approaches you. He has an easy smile placated on his lips, but you know when you’re being judged.

Behind him, both Ieiri and Yaga are still, tense. Yaga’s jaw is set, and Ieiri fiddles with a pack of cigarettes in her pocket, clearly itching for a new one. Ah, so this is the real test.

You don’t back off, staying rooted in your spot. He towers over you easily, and you have to tilt your head back just to look at him. You’d heard he was a handsome man, but you hadn’t expected it to be so obvious, even with the bandages on. He studies you, sharp jaw clenching, before the dazzling smile returns.

“Right! You’re the substitute teacher, aren’t you?”

His voice is light and airy, the previous tension completely absent from it. You blink.

“She will be teaching instead of you when you’re away on missions,” Yaga intervenes, “but that doesn’t make her a substitute. C’mon, Satoru, we’ve had this conversation already.”

On that last sentence, his voice turns into a threatening rumble.

“Sure, sure,” Gojo dismisses him without looking back, “and you’re the one who will be giving me missions as well, right?”

He keeps his tone cheerful, makes it sound like he’s just trying to have a conversation, but there is an edge in his voice, a bite. You cannot tell what he is trying to achieve with the question, though, or why he is being hostile, so you choose not to engage.

“Indeed,” you answer, bowing your head politely. “It is an honor to be meeting you all.” You make quick work of giving your name and briefly mentioning that you hadn’t grown up in Japan.

You’re met with silence, Gojo’s lips pressed together as he tries to read you. You do your very best not to give him anything to sink his teeth into.

“Your family’s known for their precognition, aren’t they?” Ieiri asks from the other side of the room.

“Foresight, yes”, you reply. Your answer is rehearsed, polished. Your family has somewhat of a reputation within the sorcerer world, but fortune tellers are a dime a dozen, even among non-sorcerers, and the results vary greatly — it’s not an ability that inspires trust, even for a legitimate sorcerer like you. You don’t wish to reveal too much of yourself just yet. “I look forward to working with you.”

A smile finally forms on her lips.

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I won’t be seeing too much of you. Would be a shame if I had to patch you up. If you want to go out drinking though, just let me know. I know all the best bars in the city!”

“She does, and she’s banned from half of them,” Gojo chimes in. Now that his focus is back on her, his tone is softer; teasing, still, but no longer harsh. “She could use an actual designated driver instead of exploiting her kouhais though, don’t you think, Shoko?”

She laughs at that, sincerely, her eyes creasing.

“Fuck you, Gojo,” she answers fondly.

“I apologize for these two,” Yaga says, wincing at the coarse language. “We’re very happy to have you here. I’m sure it will do the kids some good, having someone serious to take after.”

“Hurtful,” Gojo protests, pouting. “They’re good kids,” he adds, directing his attention back to you. He sounds proud now, no trace of his earlier defiance left. “They’ll be great soon. They just need a little push to get there.”

At that, you nod.

“Of course. I’ll do my very best to help them on that path.”

There is a second, between the moment when you finish speaking and the moment when a wide smile splits his face. In that second, his lips part, and you feel his eyes plunge into you, digging into the very core of your being. He doesn’t look pleased. No, he is sizing you up, and you doubt you measure up to his expectations as well as you should. You’re the only one facing him, though, and when he smiles, just a little too late, it all vanishes like it never happened.

“Good to hear! As long as that’s the case, I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

It’s said differently, but it’s as threatening as the higher-ups’ last words to you. Still, behind Gojo, Yaga heaves a relieved sigh and exchanges a look with Ieiri that tells you just how worried he’d been about your arrival. To him, it looks like the situation is resolved.

“Why don’t we all go and get a drink together to welcome you properly, if we’re done here?” he asks, walking over and slapping Gojo in the back.

“Sounds good to me,” Ieiri hums.

“As long as we go somewhere with good desserts, I’m in,” Gojo declares, intertwining his fingers at the back his head.

“You better be, Satoru,” Yaga grumbles, “you’re paying.”

“Not sure the Gojo clan has enough money for your appetite,” he sighs dramatically, “but I mean, I can try.” Then, eyeing you, “You coming or what?”

“Of course,” you say, swallowing around the unexpected knot in your throat. “Thank you for having me.”

You follow them cautiously, keeping quiet as the banter continues, hands held behind your back, observing. You had not expected to feel welcome here. You could have done without Gojo’s strange hostility, but with your track record, you had expected far worse.

“Let me know if Satoru makes your life harder, alright? I’ll talk some sense into him,” Ieiri tells you, placing a cigarette between her lips.

“And I’ll beat it into him if I have to,” Yaga adds, snatching it from Ieiri’s mouth and crumpling it between his fingers.

“I’d love to see you try,” Gojo grins.

“Noted,” you answer, “but I’m sure everything will be fine.”

This last part is a lie. Even as he’s joking around with everyone, you know he is still observing you, courtesy of the Six Eyes, watching your every move, waiting to find a fault somewhere so he can figure out what to do with you. You can’t blame him. You will be the one sending him into action, after all, even if the higher-ups would review missions assigned to grade 1 sorcerers and special grade sorcerers. Of course he’d need some time to figure out whether or not you’re trustworthy.

Not that his opinion on the subject matters to you. You’re not the type of person who needs other to like you. You don’t even need him to trust you. All he has to do is let you do your job.

Everything else is futile.

It is no surprise that the first few weeks at your job are slow. The end of summer and the beginning of fall are always quiet periods for sorcerers, and as a result, you don’t have many missions to hand out just yet. The few, low-level ones available in Tokyo are systematically claimed by Gojo before you can look into them, as training for his students.

“Kids gotta learn somehow, right?” he tells you with a grin the first time it happens.

He’s just waltzed into your classroom and he’s leaning over the desk, elbow conveniently resting on the mission files. You try not to think about how brazenly handsome he is right now, even when he is openly provoking you. You stare at his bandages, right where his eyes must be. He may be smiling at you, but there is no sincerity behind it, no joy, and that wasn’t really a question.

You shrug.

“Alright.”

The smile falters.

“Yeah? That’s alright with you?”

“Certainly. If you think these are good exercises for them, and if you plan on being there to supervise them, I don’t see any issue with it. Just return the files if there are any they can’t clear, and I’ll transfer them to the appropriate person.”

He tilts his head. Watching. Assessing.

“You should join us!” he exclaims cheerfully, smile back in its place, clapping his hands together. “The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?”

Oookay. He is testing you. The infuriating part of that is, you have no idea what he is testing you for, what he wants you to display — or fail to display. Trying to see if you’re good enough of a teacher? You have nothing to prove here, certainly not to someone who has been on the job for such a short time. Then again, you don’t see any harm in humoring him.

“No problem. Just let me know when you intend to take care of them, and I’ll be there.”

His smile widens, but you’re not sure if it means you’ve succeeded or failed his test.

“Good,” he hums. “I’ll be taking that, then.”

In one swift movement, he retrieves the files from your desk, and he walks away with them before you can say anything.

You roll your eyes — this whole song and dance are so unnecessary — but you don’t see any reason to stop him, so you just watch him leave. You catch him stopping in the doorway, turning back to look at you. The smile is still dancing on his face, all edge and teeth.

“You’re not what I expected.”

You stare at him just a moment longer, brow furrowing, before he vanishes and you’re left with nothing to look at.

‘Not what he expected’. You turn the sentence over in your mind a couple of times, trying to conjure up an image, a personality that would fit better for the role you’re supposed to play, but nothing comes up. You have two roles: teaching the future generation of sorcerers, and assigning missions. If doing one task can facilitate the other, there is no reason not to do it — and you find it even harder to comprehend why he wouldn’t have expected you to do just that.

You shake your head, willing his words out of your mind. You’ve never felt the need to meet anyone’s expectations, so why should you start now?

Taking kids to a cemetery for a mission seems in poor taste, but that’s not what you tell Gojo when he announces it as his first choice.

“The mission is for a number of grade four curses and a couple grade three,” you state instead, “but considering the spot, it’s likely more powerful ones went unnoticed. Are you sure that’s appropriate for first-years?”

“Well,” he answers, hands casually in his pockets, towering over you with all his height, “it will be good to see how adaptable they are and their abilities in the face of danger. Plus, they’ll have two guardian angels looking after them, won’t they?”

There’s that toothy smile again.

You still don’t know what it means.

“As long as you’re here, it will be fine, I guess” is what you end up answering him with a shrug.

This time, he doesn’t say anything as he leaves, doesn’t stop to look at you.

You suspect that you said exactly what he was expecting from you.

Contrary to popular belief, cemeteries don’t typically harbor powerful curses. The smaller ones are numerous, born out of loss and grief, but the bodies of non-sorcerers don’t take the pain they endured with them in the grave. They leave it all over their houses, leaking through the walls and ceilings, seeping through the cracks in the floor, cursing their loved ones.

Cemeteries remain clean.

The exception to that rule is a notable one. In any place where cursed energy accumulates for long enough, there is a risk for it to congregate to the point where strong curses can emerge. This slow growth means they learn to better hide themselves, and it makes them harder to spot and eliminate. In an ideal world, there would be a sorcerer expedition every other decade to ensure nothing big can develop, but sorcerer numbers being what they are, that is impossible to ensure. There is also a high likelihood that it would be useless anyway, a waste of time and resources, far too much firepower for the bunch of fly heads sorcerers would find.

Still, you keep an eye on the three, baby-faced first years, and chew on the inside of your cheek as they start to make their way through the alleys.

You don’t like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Gojo says lightly, next to you. “You’re a grade one sorcerer, aren’t you? There’s nothing more powerful than that here. I’d know it if there was.”

“My evaluation took place in Europe. I don’t know if I would have ranked that high, had I taken it here.”

“Aw, c’mon, if even you think you’re that weak, who’s going to believe you’re strong?”

The sentence surprises a chuckle out of you. A grade two sorcerer is nothing to turn your nose at, but you can’t say you’re shocked that the Satoru Gojo would equate that status to weakness. He is so far off the scale that he would break it altogether if it wasn’t for the convenient, murky ‘special grade’ title.

You look at him, find him already turned in your direction. His lips are parted in surprise. You don’t realize it, but you have somehow managed the feat of getting Gojo’s undivided attention. The Six Eyes are focused on you, dissecting you, taking you in. This is— new. People are predictable. It’s not always a bad thing, though it gets a little boring. You— you keep catching him off guard while doing things that seem completely natural to you.

For once, you’re the one who is smiling, and he’s stunned into silence.

“It doesn’t matter to me, whether or not people think I’m strong. All I care about is—”

Teeth reflected in a pupil. Muscles like lead. A hand raised in defense. Flesh that turns into mist, there one second, gone the next. Clicks like a laugh, coming from behind. ‘Morino Iori — 1954-2010’, splattered with blood. A curse with its head thrown back, an arm coming out of its open mouth, disappearing when it swallows. Tears dripping down from the chin to the ground, barely diluting the puddle of blood that has formed there.

The rest of your sentence is lost when you turn around and take off running.

There is a string of cursed energy pulling you in the right direction, one that found its way to you, one that the cursed technique engraved in your brain knew how to decode. You’re old enough not to question it, not to struggle with the vision, and following it comes as a second nature. Just as you get there, you see Sota rounding the corner slowly, looking around, squinting, searching for something he isn’t finding. Your fingers close around the weapon at your waist, withholding your cursed energy — for now.

To a non-sorcerer, you would appear to be holding nothing but a stick. A sorcerer would know it’s a cursed weapon, though most would not be able to figure out its use.

At least, not until the curse emerges from the fog, only two steps behind Sota. In a flash, you let cursed energy irrigate your weapon, and a blade of sheer energy appears. The stick is now a scythe.

It’s in poor taste, in a cemetery, but you don’t linger on that.

You’re between the boy and the curse before he can turn around. The curse’s abilities must allow it to hide its presence, would allow it to disappear back into nothingness a mere moment after the kill, but you don’t give it the opportunity to do that. The scythe cuts through it like butter, splitting it in two. The two halves haven’t yet hit the ground that you’ve already lowered your weapon, emptying it from cursed energy as soon as you’re done.

“Are you okay?” you ask Sota, turning around to face him as you anchor it back to your waist.

“Um,” he says. He doesn’t look scared, just mildly surprised. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“What happened to seeing his abilities in the face of danger?”

You bite your lip, glancing at Gojo. He is standing atop a headstone, balancing without any struggle and watching the two of you with unmistakable amusement.

“He freezes in the face of danger,” you answer.

Sota’s eyes go wide, and he turns away from you, shaking his head. He isn’t doing it for you, though, but for Gojo.

“That’s not true! I’ve exorcised curses before, you’ve seen me do it!”

He’s desperate to prove himself to his teacher, and something sinks within you. You don’t need a vision to tell you what will happen next.

“The kid’s got a point,” Gojo lets you know. “That precognition thing of yours, how accurate is it?”

There was a time when those words would have sent you reeling back. Even now, when you’re expecting them, you feel the blood withdrawing from your face as he speaks them. But you swallow, school your features. You know better now. Fighting now will only delay the inevitable. Gojo was standing next to you anyway. With the Six Eyes, he must know for certain that you hadn’t activated any sort of cursed technique when you took off running. That alone would be enough to make him suspicious, if he didn’t already doubt you.

Cassandra’s Bargain. Tell the truth, and save only those who believe you.

Unlike others, explaining the workings of your cursed technique doesn’t make it more effective — it makes it useless. If you try to tip the scale in your favor now, you will all pay a high price for it later.

You know what Gojo is implying, about your accuracy. Most people who have foresight see a number of futures. If he suspects you saw one in which Sota died, your actions must make sense to him.

“Enough to keep me safe,” you answer, tight-lipped.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s give the kid a fighting chance from now, what d’ya say?”

That’s not how it works, but it doesn’t matter. At least Sota gets to keep his arm — until next time.

What a waste.

“Of course,” you say with a nod.

You would do it again in a heartbeat if you had to, but you no longer feel threads of cursed energy, threads of fate, pulling you in one direction or the other. Oh, they’re all around you, and you’d know much more if you activated your cursed technique, but you know how it functions. That had to be the worst that could happen. Things should be fine now.

“Start running Sota, you’ve got some catching up to do!”

“Yes, Mr. Gojo, sir!” the kid replies, all but saluting. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Gojo’s laugh at that, as the kid takes off sprinting, couldn’t be more genuine.

You lean against the pristine Morino Iori headstone — it’s disrespectful, and you formulate a silent apology, but all you can do is hope they won’t mind. You’re exhausted, and yet the tension is keeping your body in hypervigilance, refusing to go away.

Gojo approaches you, hands in his pockets. The ghost of his usual smile is dancing on his lips. For once, though, it doesn’t feel mean-spirited.

“We have to save them if they need us,” he says, voice surprisingly soft, “but it’s as least as important that we teach them how to fend for themselves.

“I don’t disagree with that.”

This kind of reasoning just isn’t worth losing an arm over.

Gojo steps closer, leaning towards you, so close his nose is almost touching yours. You suck in a quick breath through your mouth. From up close, it’s much harder to ignore how handsome he is, even without seeing his eyes. You blame your accelerating heart rate on the fact that you’re in a high-stress kind of and you’re particularly pent-up at the moment. If your skin tingles when you feel his breath against it, it’s because of the cold. Must be. Whatever it is, you don’t let it show, and you hate that you’re finding it harder to breathe.

“You’re not what I expected.”

He’s said it before, but his voice is lower now, deeper, vibrating through your body, and something that you recognize all too well twists, deep in your abdomen.

Desire.

You don’t answer. You didn’t know what to say the first time, and you sure as fuck have no clue now — don’t know what he means, don’t know what you’ve done that you weren’t supposed to, don’t know if the interest in his voice betrays the same feelings rushing through you right now. So you glare at him until he laughs, light and airy, and takes a step back.

“If you need me, I’ll be on top of the temple, watching the kids.”

You wait for him to disappear between the tombs, keeping yourself still, too still, probably, to be inconspicuous, and it’s only once you’re sure he’s gone that you let yourself exhale very, very slowly. The urge to laugh at yourself bubbles inside you, because what the fuck is wrong with you? It’s not the right time, not the right place, and not even remotely the right person.

You’re fully aware of all of that, know it in the deepest parts of your soul, and yet your eyes still trail towards the temple. You could imagine that you’re seeing Gojo’s silhouette there, if you didn’t know better.

Except you do. You do.

When you look away, you know full well you’re doing it too pointedly.

You don’t get a chance to involve yourself in the Kyoto Goodwill Event. With the beginning of fall, files are starting to accumulate. Since you’re still getting your bearings in Tokyo and familiarizing yourself with the sorcerers you can send on missions, that is what you dedicate yourself to.

Or, well, that’s what you’re told.

You know that you’re more than capable of doing several things at once without botching any of them. Masamichi Yaga and Satoru Gojo are the ones who disagree. You’re called into Yaga’s office, and Gojo is already there, leaning against the wall behind him. For once, he isn’t wearing the bandages, but rectangular sunglasses. Even from behind them, you see the faint glow of his eyes, and it takes a lot — a lot more than it should — not to stare.

“The students taking part in this year’s event will be exclusively second and third-years. Satoru knows them well.”

“Yeah, and they’ve been training for a that for a while,” Gojo says without missing a beat. Where Yaga is stern and serious, his voice is relaxed and pleasant, lightening the mood without trying to. “The third-years have already won once, so they know what they’ve got to do for a repeat.”

That’s right. Tokyo won last year, under Gojo’s guidance, for the first time since… well, since he stopped competing himself, according to what you’ve heard.

“Satoru had already started putting this year’s strategy together by the time you joined Jujutsu Tech,” Yaga adds, trying his best to sound apologetic. “So there’s no need to concern yourself with that. It’s already well-oiled.”

As far as you’re concerned, the only thing that’s well-oiled here is this routine they’re performing, all for your sake. You click your tongue, not bothering to hide your annoyance, and watch as Yaga’s fingers curl, as Gojo’s chin lifts and the blueish glow focuses on you. There’s politics in the air, you can smell it, with a role you have to play. So they think, at least. Unfortunately, you lack knowledge when it comes to Japanese society, and you cannot quite identify what that role is.

To be fair, you also don’t care for it.

“Was it really necessary to waste all of our times with this charade?”

“I beg your pardon?” Yaga asks in response. His voice thunders dangerously. He’s warning you not to cross a line.

“If you don’t want me involved, you can just say so,” you answer with a shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have missions to assign.”

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you to stand up, rolling your eyes once you have your back turned on them. How bland. You’ve never seen the point of engaging with this kind of theatrics when there are such greater things at play. Having you help the kids come up with a strategy of their own, going over the basics of planning, now that could have been interesting and helpful. It’s not that you doubt Gojo’s abilities in that domain, you don’t, but it is your specialty, and you’ve had to learn to survive with resources that are significantly more limited than his. Instead of doing that, in the name of whatever internal conflict is going on here, the kids have been deprived of that experience.

How boring.

Once the door has closed behind you, Gojo lowers his head, shoulders shaking. Yaga turns around, frowning, only to find him quietly laughing to himself.

“Told you she was a weird one,” he says once he’s caught his breath.

“Maybe,” Yaga mumbles, “but there must be a reason why she was placed here.”

Gojo hums. Outside the office, he follows your cursed energy. It has always been diffuse, fickle, fizzling out around you until it becomes hard to tell where it ends — even for him. Must have something to do with your cursed technique, but he hasn’t seen you use that yet. You go straight to your classroom, where you sit behind your desk to work, like you do every day until it’s late in the night.

Yaga is right, of course. There must be a reason. But you’re at least making it fun for him to figure out.

The Kyoto Goodwill Event does not go over well.

Maybe you should get some petty satisfaction from it, but there is none to be found, just a bitter taste in your mouth. Next to you, Utahime, the Kyoto school teacher, does not look up at the screens provided by Grade 1 sorcerer Mei Mei. She has her eyes on her hands, and she is nervously rubbing her fingers. In fact, while a few outsiders who have come to see the game for their own enjoyment exclaim at the students’ impressive moves, there is only one member of the schools who seems to be enjoying himself, and that is Principal Gakuganji.

Kyoto is methodical in their approach. On an individual level, you suspect that Kyoto is far ahead of them, but as a team, they have come up with the perfect strategy — at least against the Tokyo team. They have done their research, know everything there is to know about their adversaries. Then again, having one member of the Zen’in and one member of the Kamo family on their side, even if neither have access to their families’ historical techniques, must have been quite the help to gather that information.

You don’t see them doing anything revolutionary — if anything, a team such as theirs could have been composed hundreds of years ago — but they have no need for it, not with how brutal they are willing to be, leaving devastation in their wake. They’re prepared, efficient, collected. They’re also quick, having adapted to this modified version of capture the flag, one that involves curses, without hesitation.

Tokyo defends to the best of their abilities. They prove themselves especially capable when it comes to improvising on the spot, which means that Gojo’s teaching works on that front is working, at least. The match ends up closer than Kyoto must have been hoping for, but it doesn’t change the end result.

It’s a resounding victory for Kyoto.

“Well,” Gakuganji is the first to speak as it ends, “that was quite the beautiful display of sportsmanship, don’t you think, Satoru?”

You glance at Gojo, who is sitting next to you. There’s real anger in the way his jaw tenses at the question, but by the time you blink, he’s already relaxed it.

“That was really impressive!” he laughs, throwing his head back and clapping enthusiastically. “They’ve progressed so much since last year, haven’t they? I never imagined they would be able to come this far.”

You press your lips together at the barely veiled insult.

“Indeed, that is what realized potential looks like,” Gakuganji replies, stroking his beard. “Such a shame to see your promising pupils crashing and burning… Although that’s not the first time you’ve seen that happen, is it?”

That is the least charitable way of looking at what happened there, but it is impossible to argue with the facts: Kyoto bested Tokyo. You can’t say you appreciate the way he’s talking about your students, but you don’t think it’s your place to say anything.

Gojo’s smile thins.

“Well, I’ll be looking forward to the individual tournament tomorrow,” Gakuganji adds, standing up. “In the meantime, Yaga, I assume you have planned for accommodations, and all this action has given me quite the appetite.”

He leaves the room with an unmistakably pleased smile, Yaga getting up after him. He gestures at Gojo to join them, and he’s not hiding his scowl when he stands up, unfolding his long limbs slowly. The other sorcerers follow suit, Utahime included, though she is sporting a somber expression too. You’re the only one to linger in the room, in no rush to suffer through more of Gojo and Gakuganji’s quips.

When you do leave, you stop by the infirmary, where you find Ieiri cursing through her teeth as she works on the students. Even though several of them are fully healed, they’re keeping themselves huddled up together, shoulders hanging low, eyes on the ground.

Defeated.

“Professor Gojo has already come by,” one of them informs you without bothering to look at you. “We’re fine. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” you confirm, and you see flashes of hope on their faces, mistaking your confidence for a prophecy. Truth be told, you haven’t seen anything for the next day, but this is often the best way of using the aura that surrounds you. “But you did well today. They saw a weak spot, and they exploited it. As long as you learn from it, there is no shame in this defeat.”

That deflates them, and Ieiri snickers, glancing at you with a grin.

“Quite the pep talk you’re giving here.’

She’s right. You’ve never been good at this.

“You’re all excellent sorcerers, but even you can be defeated by people who are not as good as you, provided they’ve prepared adequately. That is what you need to take away from today. Conversely, you will be able to defeat much stronger adversaries than you, with the right approach.”

Some look thoughtful at your words — most still look just as dejected as they were when you walked in.

“We’ll work on that once this tournament is over. For now, all you need to do is rest. You’ll prevail tomorrow.”

Smiles finally break on their faces, and you take that as your cue to leave, before you can say something that would ruin it again.

You’re in no rush to join the other sorcerers just yet, so you wander through the hallways, intending to go back to the classroom that’s become your refuge in the school. You’re one corner away from it, when the window that leads to the outside slides open, and Satoru Gojo jumps in, right in front of you. It is the second floor, yet you can’t muster surprise.

He shoots you a smirk that knocks the air out of you, but it’s nothing compared to what he does next. He looks back towards the window, looking displeased, and that’s when you notice voices calling for him — Kyoto students and low-level sorcerers. You’re about to look down when he catches you. He wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you away, presses the other on the wall, next to your head, and you freeze. He’s close, and everything you’ve been feeling for weeks at this point comes rushing back in.

“You know what’s a great way of getting people’s attention off you?” he asks, smirk even wider, if possible.

“Wh—”

Then his lips are on yours.

He tastes sweet, you’re surprised to find.

It’s playful, the way he kisses you, a press of his mouth against yours, stolen, daring. It’s also all you need to admit to yourself how badly you’ve been wanting this. That’s why you’re the one who wraps your arms around his neck, kissing him back harder. He lets out a surprised noise into you, maybe a chuckle, but he certainly doesn’t fight it, even if he wasn’t planning on it. In fact, it’s quite the contrary.

He reaches greedily for your hips, pulling you to him and keeping you pressed against his hard chest. When you part your lips, there is not a moment of hesitation on his part before he pushes his tongue in, swirling it against yours. You crane your neck to give him better access to your mouth, all while holding on tight to his neck to lower him towards you. Your back is against the wall, your body arched a way that would be uncomfortable if you weren’t so hot all over, set ablaze by his touch.

When he pushes his thigh between your legs, flexing it so it rubs against you just right, your knees buckle under you. It doesn’t help that, in this position, his semi-hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and that awakens a very special kind of hunger within you.

There is no softness to the kiss or to the way your bodies move together, just pure lust. Wetness is pooling between your legs already, in anticipation for more, more of him, more of his body, more of his touch. He’s so tall, it’s like he’s everywhere, his scent surrounding you, his body caging you against the wall effortlessly, his mouth demanding more and more of you. You roll your hips against his, trapping his cock between your bodies, and he hisses into you, his grip turning bruising — not that you mind.

“Tease,” he manages to mumble as he takes a quick breath.

There’s no room for any more words before he reattaches his mouth to yours, almost biting into you, and fuck it feels good. His lips are soft, but that must be the only thing that is soft about this kiss. He moves your skirt out of the way, one hand coming to grab your thigh so he can lift it up, and that is when your eyes snap open, some reason coming back to your lust-filled brain at last.

“Wait,” you mumble, “not here.” Your eyes dart around the dark hallway — empty, but far too in the open for your liking. Problem is, your body is aching with how much you want him, and, even if it would be the smart thing to do, you can’t bring yourself to stop now. “Classroom,” you conclude, pulling him with you.

He lets out a breathless laugh, but follows. The second the door is closed, he has you against the wall again, this time with his chest pressed to your back while his lips find your neck, teeth pulling at the skin mercilessly before dragging his tongue on the sensitive area to soothe it. You let out a sigh, but it comes out much louder than you’d intended, almost a moan, and you have to lift a hand up to cover your mouth. He snickers, but doesn’t waste any more time on teasing you.

Instead, he snakes his hand into your skirt, and this time, you don’t stop him. Long fingers move past the hem of your panties to brush against your clit and you jump, biting your lower lip to keep quiet. His lips stretch into a smile on your neck.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he comments by your ear, rubbing his fingers over your pussy lips, purposefully not entering you.

You groan in frustration, and push your ass against his now rock-hard cock. The low moan he lets out in surprise is delightful to hear.

“As if you’re one to talk,” you reply.

“Is that how you want to play it?”

Before you can answer him, he easily pushes two fingers inside you. They’re long and they fill you so well, you have to focus every fiber of you that’s not lost in pleasure on keeping quiet. Gojo’s free to take his fingers out, then plunge them into you once more, and you can’t help clenching needily around them.

“See,” he says, and oh his low voice, the way it makes his chest vibrate against your back, it all goes straight to your core, making you gush around his fingers some more, “that’s expected of me, ‘cause everyone knows I’m sorcerer society’s problem child. Aren’t you supposed to be the good girl?”

It’s no easy task to think with his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly, but even through the haze of pleasure, the words make you frown.

“Says— Ah— Says who?”

He uses the heel of his palm to press against your clit, and you’d conclude that he is actively trying to render you speechless if pleasure wasn’t shooting through you like electricity.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’d say you’re being pretty good right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Would you— fuck— would you stop talking and just fuck me already?” you still manage to bite out.

He laughs again, delighted and maybe a little fond, but he stills his fingers inside you. You get some time to catch your breath, and use whatever self-control you have left not to try and fuck yourself on his hand.

“You sure?”

“As long as you’re clean, I’m safe,” you say — maybe not your smartest moment, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

He pulls his fingers out, and you glance at him over your shoulder. He’s still wearing the bandages over his eyes, but his jaw is uncharacteristically taut, and his movements lack their usual fluidity. You grin. Good to see you’re having an effect on him too. It becomes even more obvious when he pulls out his cock, hard and veiny. You’re not surprised by how big he is, and you find yourself licking your lips, clenching around air at the prospect of what’s to come. Shit, you cannot wait to have it inside you, stretching you out.

“I’ve been wanting to mess up that skirt for weeks,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, as he pushes it out of the way and lowers your panties.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you ask with a click of your tongue. He is still talking way more than he should.

The smirk he gives you should concern you. He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance, and then, instead of penetrating you, as you’re frozen in anticipation, slides his length against your pussy lips, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but not giving you what you need right now. You whimper pleadingly, not catching yourself fast enough to keep yourself silent. You worry that he will keep teasing, but it appears he has reached his limits too, because soon he is pushing the tip of his cock inside you, and fuck, it’s even better than you’d imagined.

You hear him grunt behind you as he starts pushing himself inside you at a devilishly slow pace. You expected him to do it all at once, so you turn around once more, ready to throw another quip at him for his relentless teasing, but the words die on your lips when you see his face. His teeth are planted in his lower lip, and his face is contorted in a pleasure that he is clearly trying to reign in, his breathing quick and shallow, his chest heaving. The sight leaves you breathless, so you stay quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he all but whines as he keeps pushing himself inside you.

He bottoms out at last, and he stills for a few seconds, all so you can adjust and not at all because he is going to come too fast if he can’t get used to how warm and welcoming you are around him first. The discreet groans he was letting out turn into a full moan when you move forward, pulling him out of you, then back, sheathing him inside you completely once more. You’d keep moving, but he grips your hips tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, to stop any movement you could make.

It doesn’t last long though, because after that, he starts moving himself, and the pace he sets it merciless. The slapping of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the empty room, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when you can barely think, not when your knees are failing you and his hands on hips are the only thing keeping you standing, not when tiny whimpers keep spilling past your lips, no matter how much you try to keep them in.

“Couldn’t be even just a little patient, hm?” he asks you. It’s undercut by the gasps that interrupt him, the pleasured moans that escape him too.

This time, you don’t find anything to answer. The angle, with you bent over, hands on the wall in a desperate attempt to stay on your feet, makes you feel so, so full that you can’t think straight. Pleasure is coursing through you with each time he hammers into you, and you clench around him helplessly each time he pulls out. He’s fast, relentless, but if the way his moans keep getting more-pitched is any indication, he’s close to reaching his climax. You’re not far yourself, you just— just need— just a little—

One of his hands abandons your hip, and you would stumble forward if he wasn’t holding you so firmly. His free hand finds its way to your clit, and pinches it expertly, just as he snaps his hips into you harder than he has so far, spilling himself inside you. The orgasm hits you like a thousand volts, and your hips jerk back uncontrollably, whole body shaking, as you ride the wave of it on his cock until it ends. Ah, you needed this so badly that, as it recedes, you can only feel content, the pleasure it gave you still tingling in your body.

For a while, the sounds of you and Gojo’s panting are all that fill the room. Finally, he pulls his sensitive, softening cock out a you with a hiss, and you ignore the squelching sound it makes. He tucks it back into his pants, and you finally find it in yourself to pull your panties back up, readjusting your skirt. Your hair is messy from the kissing earlier, but apart from that, you’re still rather presentable — you hope.

“Didn’t think you had that in you,” Gojo comments. He’s still catching his breath.

“At what point are you going to admit that you’ve just misjudged me?”

He laughs, but the smirk he shoots you, hands in his pockets, standing a few feet away from you, is proof that the distance between the two of you is back to what it was before. You don’t find yourself minding all that much. This is as good a way as any other to release tension, and you’re more relaxed than you have in weeks. The lightness of his voice tells you the same is true for him. Seems like you both got the same thing out of it, and that’s fine by you, even if it doesn’t bring you any closer.

“Once I know I was wrong,” he says. It sounds ominous, but, well, if he wants to keep clinging to that image he’s made of you, that is his problem. So far, you’d argue that it has rather worked in your favor.

You shrug.

“If you hadn’t felt that way, Tokyo would have won today,” you tell him matter-of-factly.

His smile widens.

“Guess we’ll have to see about that next year, hm?”

“I guess we will.”

Silence grows between the two of you. You normally wouldn’t mind. Now, you feel the need to say something.

“This should stay between us,” you finally manage to say. Sorcerer society can be— harsh, on women, to say the least. The last thing you need is for someone to know you’ve fucked your coworker. You’d be branded as a whore, and while you find this all horribly regressive, you’d still rather not have to deal with the fallout.

Gojo hums in agreement.

“I’m not really the type to want all my business out there either,” he tells you in a surprising display of sincerity. It’s ruined when he smirks and adds, “Next time, I think I should fuck you on your desk.”

You scoff, but you know you both hear your lack of denial loud and clear. You’re not opposed to there being a next time, provided this doesn’t get out. By the look of things, it would be mutually beneficial.

You don’t bother to answer him before you open the door, glancing outside. No one in sight. He would have known if that had been the case, of course, but you’re still relieved. You slip outside unceremoniously — it’s pretty clear you’re done here anyway — and he does nothing to hold you back.

Later, after you’ve taken a quick shower in the facilities available at the high school and you’re sat by Ieiri around the dinner table, Gakuganji can barely hide his smugness.

“Where you have been off to?” he asks Gojo, his tone making it clear just how pleased with himself he is. “Licking your wounds?”

“Something like that,” Gojo answers lightly, and you’re careful to keep your eyes on your food.

The conversation fades into the background. Your thoughts move to the upcoming solo tournament, the next day, to your students, to the missions you have to assign. And then, for the first time in forever, you find yourself distracted by something that isn’t work-related. You welcome the respite it gives you.

On your desk, next time, huh?

You could work with that.

thank you all for reading and getting all the way here! interactions are what keeps me writing, so please comment/reblog/send an ask to feed your author and have my eternal gratitude!

tagging people who expressed interest in the first chapter: @sapphiccloud @saccharine-nectarine @calypsothegoddess @aspiring-bookworm @aerismonia

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #my writing

614 notes · View notes

charmedreincarnation · 1 year

Note

Hi Maya I was one of your first anons back in March and I manifested my dream life. i just wanted to share some things that helped me, and hope we can all pass some knowledge so we all get our desires life. I did, you did, and everyone reading this can and will so let’s all try to help out by sharing a little of our journey. I’ll never create a blog because tumblr is a mess, so I’ll just share them here bc I trust you as a creator and I hope you agree with what I’m saying. Even if you don’t these are my assumptions and my truth

il get into my methods in one second but users of tumblr there are only 4 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE LAW (Inspired heavily by you bc I used your blog religiously) I will say you’re kind of too nice and I wish I had someone to yell at me like this, and tell me to stop being a victim!!! So if it sounds aggressive it’s because it is in the best loving way possible.OKAY SO.

★you need to understand that you want to fulfill yourself in imagination because you don’t care about the desires only how you feel about it. Bare with me it sounds stupid I know. But I don’t care about men or how they feel about me. I just want to feel worshiped and love, and I could fulfill that in my imagination. I don’t care about money??? It’s fucking paper !!! I just want to feel secure and financially free and want the feeling of buying my favorite clothes without looking at the tag. I GOT THE SAME FEELING FROM PINTREST EVEN WHEN I WAS POOR GODDAMNIT. I didn’t care about getting all As in school when I’ve always believed school is not a representation of intelligence. I wanted to feel recognized adored and respected which I had to feel for myself in my mind before it projected. I don’t care about looking skinny, I just wanted to feel snatched, I wanted to be envied, and feel pretty. And in my mind everyone wanted to be me even when I was ugly and fat. BUT I DIDNT FEEL FAT. Even with no change in the 3D I had my desires. This applies to all your desires, and you really need to understand that.

★you can affirm,visualize, understand states, understand non dualism, use the Bible or Torah m, wall twerk and say “I AM THAT BITXH,” use sats YADADAA . No one cares it doesn’t matter. you don’t have to feel anything or, even believe in wth you’re doing. As long as you think that having it in imagination means it’s yours that’s all that matter. I’ve read so many teachers, Neville, Abraham, Abdullah, Edward art, paid coaches, and they all do different things but say the same thing. FAITH IS KEY. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone you otherwise or tell you what you have to do. All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.

★YOU ARE GOD. You know what a god is, you know how a god works, you know god can do anything with a snap of a finger, kill anyone with a thought, look anyway it wants, have anything everything and create whatever. You are an omnipotent loving creator so create and give yourself everything.

★you can’t over consume, you can think from lack of whatever, and doubt can’t hinder you unless you think it does. Having a desire does not mean you’re lacking or else having the wanting for it would mean that too no? When creators say that I want to slam my head against the wall. Even now I have all my desires and I still think about them constantly. Thinking of new clothes to buy with MY WEALTH, I think of new food to eat that won’t even affect my SNATCHED BODY, i find new places to try and explore bc MY SOCIAL CIRCLE IS HUGE AND IM SO LOVED, I think of new makeup up to try to enhance my GORGEOUS PRINCESS FACE. I think of it in the same way from when I didn’t have my desired (I always had them in imagination but you know what I mean.) so there is no thinking from lack, or else you’re always lacking it lmfao the fuck. Anyways I doubted my abilities up until I manifested my dream life. I was okay with it in imagination and whether it reflected or not it was my escape I was content with. DID YOU SEE THAT. I had doubts up until the very end, and it doesn’t mean shit unless you think it does. Just affirm having doubts and obsessions only speed up your results. That’s really all it is.

Now to my story if anyone cares. I won’t make a blog for reason number 2 and 3 listed above. That’s all you need but if you want more info for curiosity go for it. I know I was curious and that didn’t stop me from getting my dream life. Anyways I have the same story as about everyone else here. My life sucked, I found the law, and it worked! HOORAY!!! But how did I do it???? Easy peasy, in a couple of steps.

☞ I tattooed my four rules above in my mind. When fear and doubt emerged I sunk that shit like the titanic and went with my laws that I created. It’s literally called the law of assumption like come on, stop fighting with yourself when you assume and create reality.

☞I ignored anything that I didn’t agree with. Sometimes I’d get so mad and be like WHAT NO WHY WOULD THAT BLOGGER OR COACH OR ANON or whoever say that?? But am I dumb ??? each of us have our own reality our own bubbles. The fact that it works for them and not for me started to only motivate me more. It doesn’t work bc I assume sooo… sooo why not just assume the opposite and focus on my rules like they did. The law is always in effect and working. Either it’s in your favor or it’s not. It’s up to you

☞I used affirmations bc repetition is the only thing that works for my logical brain. Anything can change with repetition. It’s basic science. So in the morning and night time I would affirm. ONCE. Repetition meant for me doing it everyday and not wanting. The rest of my day was lived in my imaginations. And the affirmation was to remind me in my vulnerable state that I already have my desires. That’s why my affirmation was “I have my desires no matter what, and everything I do brings them to me faster than the speed of light” it was kind of funny and made me chuckle but I accepted it as facts. Look guys…

☞I didn’t repress myself. If I cried or yelled or told myself “FUCK YOU” it wasn’t me tf. It was the devil or something. Be like those Christian fuckers who when their child comes out as gay…it’s the devil within them or whatever. I would talk to myself, yell when doubt emerged and when my thoughts weren’t the ones I wanted. It wasn’t fucking me so get the fuck out I have my desires so who tf are you ??? It will feel weird but you’ll get used to it trust me. If you’re uncomfortable it’s working. Getting rid of bad habits and your comfort in dwelling in bad thoughts is uncomfortable but it’s worth it.

I manifested my dream life back in March. I LITERALLY WOKE WITH MY DREAM LIFE. A complete 180. I won’t talk about my past life bc I completely revised it and I’m the only one who remembers so for the most part it feels like a long nightmare that has past. I’ll just talk about what I changed instead because that’s the stuff we all want to hear. Anyways I’ll just post some of my list here.

♥ my life feels like the song rich kids by freak ocean

♥I’m a pretty spoiled princess who gets everything I want but I’m still kind

♥I revised my entire family from looks to personality to zodiac to religion and etc. i rewrote my story which included my family

♥I have natural admired intelligent

♥my family has a net worth of 500 million dollars, and my entire family stems from old money. (Think aristocrats not slave or colonization money)

♥I can play many instruments and speak many languages

♥ I am 5’2, 100 pounds, I have natural stunning vixen beauty, and the most desires body in the world. I’m the beauty standard and people either want to be me or date me. I am naturally skinny and have no worries about my weight, I have clear skin that only gets clearer with my skincare routine, and I have my desired personality where I’m kind but also don’t put up with any shit from anyone because I know I’m that bitch. I also have great style and embody a princess !

♥my life is a combination of my favorite watpadd stories, Gilmore girls, gossip girl, and mean girls.

♥ too many people pursue me I have too many options

♥I have a perfect school life, social life, family life, friend life, and people always wonder what I did to be “so lucky it’s unfair”

♥my family has multiple mansions in America, monoco,Australia, france, and China.

♥I’m a daddies and mommies money girl

♥I put myself first (I HAD SUFFERED TOO LONG I NEEDED A SOFT LIFE)

♥everyone’s purpose it to make my life easier and make me happier

♥I’m spoiled and privileged in every aspect of my life

♥I’m a master shifter, and manifester

♥I revised my age to 14. I was 18 and graduating but I wanted to redo high school how I had envisioned it all my life

♥I have a “cool mom” people are always jealous how lucky I am

♥I have my main estate in Hollywood hills with my family that’s in a gated, gorgeous, gate kept neighborhood. It is 30,000 sq feet with my dreams decor, dream cars, dream pets, dream house help, dream room with all my stuff saved on Pinterest including decor, furniture, clothes, shoes, makeup and skincare.

♥everything good in my life I have manifested and it’s too much to list. THERES NOT REASON FEAR OR WAIT. Do what you want and assume it still works and it will.

You honestly said it better than I could have. Literally every single one of these points are so valid :)!! I’m glad you think I inspired you love but all I did was allow you recognize your own godly abilities. I’m very proud of you, and have fun girl 🥹❤️

Also. “All teachers were once students, all success stories were once struggled failures, all masters were once lost okay. You are god so have some faith in yourself.” This one million times !!!!! Invest your faith into yourself more than anyone else and you’ll see how fast your reality conforms. I also adore your point about the state of lacking bc I never believed in that. If wanting your desires insinuates it’s not yours, we would have no thoughts since that’s where it all originates from. In fact Edward explains it pretty well.

When Edward looks at lack, he sees it as being something that is only brought about by the individual. He believes that your own actions, thoughts, and attitudes will bring about an artificial scarcity of resources. Edward says that this artificial lack of resources is not actually real—it exists only in our minds, as we focus on the things that we don’t have rather than the things that are available to us.

He believes that true lack only exists when someone has no access to resources—whether those resources be financial, physical, mental, or emotional. When someone has access to resources but they squander them or don’t use them to their advantage, it isn’t a lack of resources that is at fault—it is the individual’s personal choices and attitudes that create the feeling of lack. Same way we see attractive people feel ugly though they have women or men chasing them, modeling opportunities, and experience many examples of pretty privilege lol. You’re a hot girl.. you’re just not using it to your advantage, same way you have everything in imagination and access to anything yet… nothing bc of your own perceptions. That’s not lack. Simply inappropriate usage of recourse. A waste for better use of words.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks #reality shifting #self concept

4K notes · View notes

the-aisei-cousins · 9 months

Text

Promo: Murder and Thread

Here are Yolei's and Yoshino's Characters Files

...

A black screen appears as the voice of a girl can be heard.

"Hey Yo- Aaa! Why are you covered in blood!?"

"Hey Yoshino! I just got back from a killing Spree~"

The second girl giggles as the camera went on. It showed two teenage girls. One in what seems to be a black maid Uniform covered in blood. She had long dark purple hair in a braid. She had black tinted glasses and freckles on her face and the back of her hands. She smiled for a bit until she noticed the camera.

"What's up with the camera?"

She looks back at the other girl. The other one had long wavy mint hair with one small piece of it braided. She was wearing a cute white dress with a green vine pattern on the bottom of it and a part of her sleeves. Her sleeves were laced up together up to the halfway point and she had a pretty blue corset on with lace up blue short boots. She stocking where white and had the same vine pattern, but it was though out the shocking.

Both girls had the same body type, same fair skin, and the same bright pink eyes. The mint hair girl smiles.

"Oh, I thought we do a blog like Irofuka suggested to meet some more people."

"Well, if Milord suggested it then let's do it!"

The mint hair girl drops a sweat before turning to the camera.

"My name is Yoshino Aisei and this is my cousin, Yolei Aisei"

Yoshino gestured to Yolei.

"Nice to meet you all. I'm the Ultimate Spree Killer."

"Why did you say that part!? What if the police finds out!?"

"They can't do anything. As long as I have my Ultimate Title, they can't arrest me. Heck, I could even kill them and get away with it!"

"...don't mind her, she just got done with her killing spree. She will be like this for a few minutes or an hour. A-anyways, I'm the Ultimate Seamstress. Please ask us questions or just talk to us."

Tags:

@after-neo-world @ask-emma-magorobi @ask-the-otonokoji-twins @ask-the-warriors-of-hope @xxcottoncandybitchxx @master-detective-archives @y0u-f4il3d-m3 @mikado-sannoji @i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye @fall-of-eden @human-monokuma @sinistersmiles @kamon-of-hope @beautiful-despair @would-you-like-a-scooby-snack @k0k1 @edens-garden-au @scarred-smiles @yui-samidare-reborn @low-activity-side-characters(Akane Taira) @Anyone else

#Buttons and Threads: Yoshino Aisei #Bloodthirsty Maid: Yolei Aisei #Promo: Murder and Thread

840 notes · View notes

loomsims · 15 days

Text

Introducing...✧Starlit Glow!✧

I have reached yet ANOTHER milestone on this blog and I am so gagged rn you really don't get it 😅🫶🏽 Thank you guyths so much! 🥰 Here's a reshade preset for taking some pretty screenshots in TS3! I've downloaded so many different presets over the years, but I've always ended up editing them to the point of being unrecognizable, so I just decided to make my own. My goal was to make my shots bright and glowy with a soft and dreamy sort of feeling! :) This is my newest, and probably my favorite rendition of my preset! Comparison shots and details below!

: ̗̀➛ Details! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

This preset was created using Reshade 5.2.2!

This preset is NOT gameplay friendly and I made it purely for taking pretty screenshots.

I'm using the chaitones.fx from this collection of multi_luts created by the talented @erasabledinosaur! you need this for the preset to look right. I will include instructions on how to put it your game in the zip file! :)

I've made some effects toggable as they can get a bit overwhelming in certain lighting!

Ambient Light- shift+A

Hex Lens Flare- shift+M

Tonemap- shift+T

Cinematic DOF- shift+D

ts3 in fullscreen mode has a screen brightening effect which changes the way your screenshots may look, so your game must be in windowed mode for your pics to look like they do in this post!

Here's some more comparison screenies!

That's basically it! All I ask is that you don't claim this to be yours and don't try to modify it and re-upload it in anyway without my permission! If you use this in your game PLEASE tag me @loomsims I would love to see :-D Also if you run into any issues let me know as this is another first time for me!

➤ DOWNLOAD HERE 🤍

#ts3 #ts3 download #ts3 simblr #ts3 reshade #ts3 follower gift #the sims 3 #pleek tag me if you use this <3

211 notes · View notes

11cupids-tarot11 · 2 months

Text

What can help your dreams ★Manifest☆ ?

1 -> 3

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

HAVE YOU SUBSCRIBED TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL YET?! (It would mean the world to me♡) Check out my Silent 😶 Pick-A-Piles!

Here's the link -> ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

♡ Cupids Master-List

♡ Want a private reading with me?

Tips are very much appreciated! Ty for supporting me ♡

Cash app and PayPal only!

Cash app tag: minnieplant3

PayPal @: janellec03

Tarot Deck used: Garbage Pail Kids

Oracle Deck used : The Roast Iconic

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 1- The Devil, Six of Coins in Reverse, The Hanged Man

Oracle cards- "Billionaire: Are you hoarding wealth to fuel your King or Queen Baby dreams? Do not pass Go, do not collect a million dollars, don't even go to jail or pay taxes- think about doing some good and using your hoard to end WORLD HUNGER ALREADY!"

"Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

Hi my pile 1's 😭 I feel like it's been forever I hate being away from my blog for too long cause I start to miss y'all literally lol.

So anyways for your reading today I feel like Spirit is wanting to draw attention to maybe some addictions, self sabotage is what I heard while shuffling the cards. I feel this heavy energy of someone purposely messing up their own blessings in a way I feel like maybe someone's stuck in this very heavy energy but also not really doing anything about it? Like maybe you know something's not good for you, maybe it's a connection or even a job that's tiring you out, it's something along those lines but you just can't stop it, you know? I heard someone needs to do an energy cleanse! I heard take some time off. Maybe someone's drowning themselves in something like studying too much, there's something about over doing something. Someone could have very curly hair here.

So I'm hearing here someone should take the time off and do something fun, relax a little. I think there's a message here also of feeling like you haven't done enough of something and you're obsessing about it mentally a lot and spirit is saying just take a little break from it and endulg in something else, something that makes you happy and makes you feel like you, you know? Even if it's just taking a walk while listening to your favorite music or maybe reading your favorite book and watching your favorite movie, you know? So with the six of coins here I'm also getting a message of like you've worked really hard already and you've done a great job honestly it's okay to rest and not be perfect already already, Rome wasn't built in a day I'm hearing!

The hanged man is just confirmation you've definitely been making yourself sick and stuck by obsessing over this thing. I also feel like maybe you're stuck because spirit is wanting you to see things from a different perspective, like in my garbage pail kid tarot card Wacky Jacky is hanging and all stuck in a tree but while she's stuck she realizes she sees the world in a whole different perspective and it's then new ideas come to her. Approach your goal from a new angle!

I feel like someone here is also someone very important with a very hard position and that might be why you work so hard, you have a lot of pressure on you maybe. Take what resonates!

Hope you enjoyed this reading! Let me know, I love you and take care ♡

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Queen of Wands Reversed, Seven of Wands Reversed and Three of Cups.

Oracle cards- "Troll: Are you a Necessary Evil? Do you feel you must play Devil's Advocate? Or are you someone who hates themselves so much they feel they have to try to get others to feel the same way? If you answered "yes" to one or more of these questions, please seek help or therapy, or get a hobby."

"Bitch: Are you being a Bitch, or just making sure they can't take advantage of you? Stand up for yourself, but make sure you don't steamroll anyone in the process. Do no harm, but take no shit."

Hi pile 2's, hope you're doing amazing 🤩

So right off the bat I'm picking up shy energy lol, someone who's maybe more reserved or introverted. I don't want to say basically Spirit thinks you should be loud or more outgoing but I definitely think you'll go through a time period of weird energy and out of the ordinary situations happening that are forcing you out of your comfort zone. You might not get any more extroverted but I definitely do see branching out might help, sitting with your close friends and just letting yourself let loose or just enjoy the company. You might be someone who people look at and not get the big picture right away, like they have lots of accusations about you but you're kind of closed off so these accusations aren't 100% true because there's more to you than people know, you're just not the type to go and give yourself away that easily. You might be someone who prefers to keep a very close knit group of friends, I heard something about trust issues.

You could be petite, someone who doesn't look like they're very strong and that's what surprises everyone when you finally do show them you are indeed strong. You can be loud and extroverted too I think it's a choice to really be in this shell of yours, maybe it's what's comfortable and that's exactly the problem, when we're too comfortable we don't see the point in changing. Like why fix it if it isn't broken? But you hold great significance, you're just a significant person to the universe and I'm not even sure if you're aware but you are lol.

It's crazy because I'm picking up mixed messages lol, with the Queen of Wands in reverse it makes me feel like someone here is very down and unsure about themselves, needs to take some me time and get away from socializing but with the Three of Cups someone here needs to "stop being alone so much" is how I channeled it, advising you to go out more with the people you love and celebrate, have a good time and just have fun so take what resonates as you know yourself best and what applies to your situation.

With the seven of Wands I'm getting a message of someone who's stressed, you maybe have felt very tired, over worked maybe, even dealing with certain responsibilities or relationship makes us feel tired and all worn out so take this how it resonates. You're on the brink of giving up, maybe you felt like it's not worth it or simply just can't find results you've been wanting to see, maybe this thing is literally killing you because Spirit is stressing you drop it enough to take the stress off you. I wouldn't advise anyone to just give up, but Spirit used such words as "drop it" like maybe the thing you're supposed to drop isn't serving you and that's why it's making you feel so bad. I'm just hearing Spirit even ask if you think all of this is worth it? This is something tough that's been bothering you, it could even be as simple as negative thoughts with all of the wands energy here, I think this is a group in their head a lot always trying to hold themselves accountable and very motivated to just do right. I heard a message that it's hard coming up for new creative endeavors because of all of the negativity in your thoughts holding you back, this energy is blocking your ideas. It's like you vs you almost, I think you have the power to help your dreams manifest all on their own just with your thoughts alone so keep a check for your energy, watch who you share your energy with because it's important and powerful. You're powerful I heard!

I hope you find this helpful! Take care angelz love you! ♡

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- Seven of Cups, The Chariot and King of Wands.

Oracle Cards- "Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

"Red Flag: No matter how often you try to bleach the red flags white, they only turn back to red. You have been warned- now PULL ANOTHER CARD!"

"Cult Leader: You are not a guru, a Timelord, or a demigod. You are an egomaniac who needs minions so you can feel like an authority to compensate for your own feelings of inferiority. Grow up!"

Hi pile 3! Hope you're having a fantastic day where you are!

So right away I'm picking up a message of not seeing the bigger picture, this pile feels more like a "How to Manifest more quicker" lol. I'm hearing this very slow moving energy, someone refusing to move on to the next chapter though you might be aware it's time to even but I'm getting a sense of fear. Even if you are unaware of these changes there's still so much anxiety and fear surrounding you at these times because the universe is basically forcing you to move lol! Move or be moved I'm hearing.

So overall I feel like someone in this pile might have lots of distractions, someone might have adhd and a hard time concentrating on tasks. Spirits drawing your attention these times and reminding you to stay focus.

With the Chariot card I feel like there's some movement here that needs to happen, you need to take action. I think that's the best way to help your manifestations right now, maybe someone here even forget exactly what they were manifesting and Spirit is like "Uhh HELLO? DO YOU REMEBER THAT THING??" lol. I heard someone's just been away from the job a little too long, I even get from the Seven of Cups it might've been you were distracted with something else that just sparked your attention better, but all that glitters isn't gold!

So I think you're working on being in this King of Wands energy, someone who is very productive, knows what they want, speaks up about anything, rather it's an idea they have or just wanting authority. I feel like a few of you even might know exactly what this is, I feel like a few of you might not even have a specific dream you want to manifest just clicking on the reading for fun lol but there's still a secretive message here I think you'll understand as you apply it to your situation.

Spirit is asking you to maybe think about the roots you want to plant and start from there, stay true to your craft and perspective and be committed.

I hope you enjoyed this reading! I love you, see you soon ❤️ ★

#pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot messages #18+ tarot #pac love reading #tarotcommunity #tarot blog #tarot beginner #spiritual advisor #spiritualgrowth #spiritual awakening #astrology

299 notes · View notes

uncivilliberties · 4 months

Note

>unfairly banned

>checks internet archive of her blog

>99% of the posts are completely unlabeled pornographic text and fantasies, not even a tag

>checks tumblr guidelines:

"Nudity and other kinds of adult material are generally welcome. We’re not here to judge your art, we just ask that you add a Community Label to your mature content so that people can choose to filter it out of their Dashboard if they prefer. You have the option to add a community label when making a new post, reblogging a post, or editing an existing post. Depending on your content, you can label it as generally mature or choose a specific category such as “Sexual Themes” if your post contains sexually suggestive subject matter."

if you actually give a shit about transfems who are getting harassed left and right then stop martyring people who are getting banned for not labeling NSFW content they post.

and god before anyone tries to have a fit and accuse me of some bullshit, i do not have anything against NSFW, i'm not a puritan asshole, what i DO have an issue with is people posting sexual content without any content labels (yet alone tags) meaning people who don't want to see that content can end up getting exposed to it anyway, even if they've taken the time to filter tags.

What are you fucking talking about? 99%? She posted about music and chatted with friends and made shitposts. It would take an extremely bad faith reading of her blog to find out uniquely objectionable UNLESS you were already inclined to find trans women's existence inherently sexual.

In your reply to this post you accuse her of constantly posting about her kinks and fetishes, helpfully including a link to the Internet archive. Let's take a look, hmmm? Wow, that's a lot of posts about music. In the limited snapshot available at that link I see one (1) masturbation joke that wouldn't even be a blip on the radar if this were anyone else's blog, a goofy ask about breasts that she answered in kind, and a couple of references to being a deergirl. Oh, I see what you mean. The crazy thing about this is that it took one single word to turn it horny. She could have said deer and not deergirl. You absolute dipshit.

"I'm not a puritan asshole, I just wear puritan asshole pants and a big puritan asshole hat and shout puritan asshole bullshit." Even if there was NSFW material somewhere in her history it would still be the thinnest possible excuse for banning her. It would still be blatant selective application of the terms of service weaponized against trans existence. Do we really need a community label on every single dick joke on this site to keep the children safe from harm? Cis people get to make dick jokes with impunity!

"People who don't want to see that content can end up getting exposed to it anyway" This is not the foundation for any sort of moral imperative! This cannot serve as the basis for any sort of course of action! The idea that we need to tag and police and bubble wrap any potentially objectionable thing online is exactly the excuse they are using for KOSA. It's no kink at Pride discourse. It's this post about Pete Buttigieg.

Straight people don't get policed like this. Cis people don't get held to these standards. Are you Staff in a wig and fake nose pretending to be a user supporting their rationale?

#charlottan #happy pride 🌈#transgender #stop banning trans women #trans rights #transmisogyny #pride

275 notes · View notes

magpie-murder · 10 months

Text

it'd be wild if they gave asgard's citizens phones in marvel i bet they'd have the best drama

20 notes

👴🏻 is-odin-dead-yet

No.

#date: 2023/11/23 #when will he croak #i've been running this blog for centuries #frigga for allfather #kick the bucket already i'm getting bored of posting here

112 notes

⛈️ god-of-thunder

I come to Tumblr with a regretful update. As you may know, my family and our fiercest warriors have been traveling between realms in search of our stolen relics.

While attempting to recover one, my brother lost his life in battle while protecting us. He shielded me with his body. My brother died a hero.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

May he reach Folkvangr. My deepest condolences. But I thought Baldur was impervious to all harm...?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

It was Loki. :( I'm devastated.

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Oh.

🐍 magic-theatre

is that all you can muster? "oh." you thought i was dead, and that's it? that's all you have? what do you mean by that? let's talk. :)

⛈️ god-of-thunder

You're alive? Where are you?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Wait, what happened to @einherjarl? He deactivated?

⛈️ god-of-thunder

Loki?

23,034 notes

🎨 bragis-apprentice

Just finished custom making this handle

#metalwork #artists on tumblr #double sided axe #my art

2 notes

⚔️ aesir-warrior-tournament

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

Lady Sif is not one of The Warriors Three. It says it in the name. There are three of them. Not four.

Correct this.

✨️ the-dashingest

I voted for Sif.

🪓 valiant-festivals

I voted for Sif.

🔺️ grim-warrior

I voted for Sif.

✨️ the-dashingest

Wait, Hogun? But you didn't tell us you had a phone?

🔺️ grim-warrior

I don't.

#lady sif propaganda #lightning round #poll reblog #only one more round after this! #i'm so glad lady sif doesn't have tumblr lol #i hope you guys dont mind that a mortal is running this blog btw #i really didnt expect any of you to see this 😬 #and srry for the reblog spam #also hogun lol

1,879 notes

🐍 magic-theatre

i see your thirst edits, you sick freaks.

#start tagging me in them #and/or sending them to me

689 notes

⛵️ modern-technologist Follow

umm i'm in ohio to visit my parents and there's like. um . a giant wolf running alongside my car? i'd call animal control but this thing is ginormous and i don't think that would do anything.

it doesnt have a leash or anything (obv its bigger than my car) but it's covered in chains. what do i do??

@identifying-d𝚘gs-in-posts ??

🐕 identifying-dogs-in-posts Follow

Fenrir Lokison?

#😨

197 notes

✨️ the-dashingest

I really don't think Loki is that bad. Sure, he's had a rocky history, but I don't think he's done anything worthy of scorn. Besides, hasn't he just died and come back or something like that, anyway? He has a blank slate, in my book.

#is it just me? #i hear people saying we should banish or kill him #i find that idea preposterous #he's just misunderstood

208 notes

einherjarl-deactivated20231120

I'm not going to @ them, but ugh... Someone I'm acquainted with just died in battle, and honestly? I'm so relieved. Is that terrible? Don't answer that, I know that it is. I'll probably delete this in a few hours.

🐍 magic-theatre

that's what you get for vagueing.

cowards don't go to valhalla.

10,560 notes

🔮 alchemist-aura Follow Sponsored with Blaze 🔥

buy my potions! i'm having a Thor's Day sale! you can get an invisibility concoction for only 3 gold today! cheapest prices in the market! don't let that einar guy force you to pay 230 gold for a wyvern tooth when you can purchase an authentic one HERE from my brand new online shop

#alchemists on tumblr #all natural potions #freelance potion seller #potion grinds #handmade potions #potionmaker #potion seller #invisibility potion #wyvern tooth #einar has competition #stay hustling 💪 #please check out my shop link i worked really hard on it #:) #:))

#i know they're all ooc i was just trying to amuse myself #loki #thor #fandral the dashing #moon queen and magic theatre #loki marvel #marvel thor #marvel asgard #marvel #thor odinson #dashboard simulator #the warriors three #odin allfather

922 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 1 year

Text

We're a couple of idiots, aren't we? (Charles Leclerc)

You had always been there to see Charles race and you wouldn't let your fight interfere with that

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not the best at writing angst pieces, but I hope this one is decent enough!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: family issues (alludes to the caregiver necessities), couple fight

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

It all began when you came home later than expected, the tiredness evident in your eyes as you paced your bag down on the sofa and allowed yourself to rest for a little, "Hey, amour", Charles whispered, testing to see if you were awake as he walked inside the living room, "hey", you said, patting the seat next to you.

Kissing your forehead, Charles sat next to you, "how was your day?", he asked, rubbing your thigh, "exhausting", you sighed, "and the next few are going to be even worse. I probably won't be home for dinner tomorrow anyway".

Charles felt uneasy, squirming around in his seat. You had been working a lot, your family also needed you on their side since your grandparents needed more assistance these days, so you and Charles haven't been able to spend that much time together. And wether it was the fact that you're used to being around eachother or the fact that the season was not going as expected, Charles felt like he hadn't spent enough time with the person he considered his safe and happy place.

"You have been very busy, I feel like I've hardly spent time with you", Charles noted, and maybe it was a seemingly honest comment that wasn't intended to be taken as harmful as you did.

"I know I've not been home, Charles, you think I don't feel that too? I know we haven't spent much time together just the two of us, but it's not been easy! Everyone needs me here, there and everywhere at the same time, and I also need time for me!", you let out.

Unexpectedly, your words also impacted Charles in a way you didn't think they would, "I know you've been busy, but we also need to spend time together, no? Or is our relationship not something we should invest time on? In a relationship, we both need eachother", he gulped. A weird and new feeling sat in his chest, like he was pressuring you and that he was burdening you.

"We do, but we also need to let eachother have some time, too!", you said, feeling anger, sadness, and overall tiredness from your recent days, "I'm going to bed", you mumbled, getting up and heading for your shared bedroom.

The energy you had left in your body was only enough to allow you to wash your face, noticing the dull and dark tone as you quickly rubbed some moisturiser on, grabbing your pyjamas to out them on and lay in bed, taking a painkiller for the growing headache.

When Charles finally go to the bedroom, he noticed you were already asleep on your side of the bed, carefully walking along the side so he could kiss your forehead before he too got ready for bed.

By the time the next morning arrived, Charles had ready left, and when you grabbed your phone, notifications from various WhatsApp groups popped up.

Mum + Dad

Can you go by grandma's house today? She was complaining of some pain and we can't remember if her meds box is sorted out or not.

Ferrari GP Weekend

Okay, just to make sure I'm not leaving anyone out: Y/N, you're not coming this weekend, right?

Since your family had been needing you to spend more time with them and at home, you had already said that you weren't sure you'd be joining them for that Grand Prix, and last night's fight settled the subject.

Texting both of the groups, you got up and got ready for the day, already knowing it was going to be a tough one.

You and Charles didn't fight a lot, at least not like this. Usually, you always found a way to talk about things and sort them out. So even this was new territory, not having talked about the subject and finding a common ground, because the situation you both left it at the night before was not the one to have.

Throughout the day, you hopefully texted Charles saying that you'd try to be home so you could talk to eachother before he left later on the evening, and while you intended to keep it, you had to text him again

To Charles

I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be home until nighttime. My grandma needs me and it's going to take a while.

Have a safe flight. Can you text me when you land, please? Love you ✨️

True to your word, you sat in your bedroom with the moon already shinning through the windows and showcasing perfectly Charles' bedside table with none of his rings, watch and bracelets where he usually put them when he was at the house.

"Why did I arrive to the paddock today only to find out that you are not joining me this weekend?", Francisca said over the phone, apparently not even bothering to wish you a good morning, even though it clearly wasn't one.

"Because I've been the busiest bee ever under the sun, and I also had a fight with Charles, and I need to sleep for three days straight to recover", you replied back, noticing the change in Pierre's girlfriend's tone.

"Oh", she added, "I'm sorry, it's just that you're always here and I haven't been able to talk to him properly yet, maybe it's a good thing I haven't yet", she admitted.

One thing you liked about her, was how honest she was with you, and you needed it right now, "do you think I should go? We left the subject hanging and it's not something light we can just solve over the phone. And besides, I've always been there for these races, and he deserves as much support as he can get", you asked, chewing on your bottom lip as you waited for her answer.

"I have no idea why you fought, nor do I want to know unless you feel comfortable in telling me, but I do know that you're made for eachother, so if your heart tells you to come to the race, you should", she advised and you could hear the smile on her voice, "besides, I love your company, so it's a win win".

From all the times you had previously travelled with Charles, you had become acquainted and a pro a listing what you needed for the race weekends, so packing was easy and quick: two changes of clothes for both colder and warmer weather, basic toiletries bag in a backpack with entertainment and snacks for the flight.

The early hours allowed you to get to the airport without any traffic and make it to the gate with enough time to spare so you could grab a coffee to go.

Francisca knew you were coming, and after having a conversation with your family, you explained to them how the whole situation was putting pressure not only on you but also on your relationship with Charles. As you expected, they were not aware of how the situation was on your side and sat down with you so you could find a better arrangement.

Arriving at the airport of destination, you quickly found the transport line that would be taking you to the closest stop near the paddock, gradually seeing fans get inside as the stops approached the track site.

You followed them in, wanting to go as unnoticed as possible as you walked along them.

"I just saw on Instagram that Charles had left his hotel a while ago, so he should be here any minute now", a young woman around your age commented with her friends, stopping by the benches you were sitting in. Turns out you were waiting for the same person after all.

"Is it okay if we sit here?", one of them asked kindly, "Oh, you're Y/N", one of the girls said.

Nodding, you pushed your backpack to rest near your legs, "of course you can sit", you smiled, still not used to the fact that fans often recognised your face.

"Thanks!", she scurried nervously, urging her friends to sit, seeing their surprised faces as they looked at you, "Also, I'm sorry, I'm sure this is weird for you, that I know your name and you don't know mine, I- we didn't expect to find you here", she apoligised, finally sitting down.

"It's okay, unless you're going to turn out to be come crazy stalker fan, I think we will be fine", you smiled, hoping they would catch the joke and relax a little.

"No no no!", they all said, smiling when you smiled back, "but, may I ask what you're doing here? I mean, don't you have an all access pass?", one of them wondered as she sat next to you.

"I'm surprising Charles, actually", you added, feeling like saying anything else would not only be violating yours and Charles' privacy, but also allowing the creation of rumours you wouldn't want, "I wasn't originally coming to see him race, but some things cleared up on my calendar so I thought I'd surprise him", you finished, seeing them smile, "do you come to watch races regularly?", you asked, changing the subject hopefully subtly enough that they wouldn't notice too much.

Conversation was flowing easily, really, they seemed like really nice girls and it never felt invasive, so the time you had to wait went by quickly, hearing people call your boyfriend's name.

You could notice his presence anywhere, that was a given. Wether it was his well trained torso that made spotting him even from his back, or his handsome face, it wasn't hard yo miss him even surrounded by fans who were wearing the same t-shirt as him.

"Let me stand around you so he won't notice me", you said, "with how enamoured he is of you, I'm sure it won't be long", one of the girls, named Lyla, you learned, spoke, wanting to see the scene unfold as he approached you.

"Hi!", Charles greeted, posing for the pictures while he signed the caps they had, not noticing your hand holding one of his own caps was in the mix.

"Charles! Can you sign this, please?", you asked, hoping you were loud enough, "I was not coming to see you race today, but I'm very happy I did", you almost yelled, thanking the fact that the other girls had helped you by keeping quiet until he realised you were there.

It was enough for Charles to recognise the voice. After all, he had been longing to hear it for the past couple of days.

"Y/N, you're here!", he called, handing Lyla the permanent marker before he hugged you, "I missed you so much, I'm sorry", he whispered on your ear before pulling back a little so he could look you in the eye, "you don't have a pass, do you?", he wondered, seeing you shake your head, "I'll see what I can do, but you're coming with me", he smiled, holding your hand in his and bidding goodbye to the group of girls after you all took a group picture.

The rush until you arrived in his driver's room didn't allow you to talk until you sat on the sofa after greeting everyone and thanking one of the team members for getting you a pass on such short notice.

"Do you think we can talk about it? I don't want to ruin the race by distracting you from it, but I don't think we should be here and not discuss it either", you brought the subject, looking up to see Charles push a chair and sit in front of you, "I want to apologise first", you said, "I never should have said what I said, especially the way I said it, I'm sorry", you apologised, "I never intended it in a way that would hurt you".

Charles grabbed your hands, lacing them in his and looking into your eyes, "I'm sorry, too. I think we should talk about it, too. I want this to be solved, I want us to be well", he admitted.

"My grandparents have been needing a bit more help, and my parents counted on me for it. And I feel like I haven't spent that much time with you, and I'm so sorry for it, but sometimes it just got too much. And I didn't want to burden you, you have your own things to worry about and this would be another thing. They're better now and this was probably a bad phase, but still", you explained.

Charles chuckled before he saw the confusion on your face, "no, I'm joking about this, amour. I'm glad they're better", he reasoned, "but I thought I was being a burden because I felt like I was clingy, like I needed you more than usual and that you had had enough. I didn't want to put more on your plate", he sighed.

Smiling at him, you moved your hand to caress his cheek, "you could never be too much, Charles. Sometimes I just need to deal with things on my own for a bit, even if there is help from someone else", you blushed.

"I know you need me to give you the space you need, that's why I didn't want to push you to talk about things, because as much as I want to craddle you in my arms forever and shield you away from the world's evil, I know you like to do things on your own, at least at first", he noted, earning your silent agreement, "but I'm here for you, always. I'm glad we worked that out", he smiled, pulling your face to his and kissing you deeply, only stopping when someone knocked on the door.

"I heard my favourite girl is back in the paddock, so I suggest you come out because I'm not feeling like I want to see whatever is going on there", your recognised Francisca's voice, getting up and opening the door to see Pierre by her side, "I told her she shouldn't interrupt you two, but she was very excited to know how the surprise went", he smiled.

"A very good surprise indeed, the best one ever", Charles said, pulling you in for one last kiss before he ventured out to the garage, a new feeling of confidence knowing you were there to watch him race.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

742 notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 4 months

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried.

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen.

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you.

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway.

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph.

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk.

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over.

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern.

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.”

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should.

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage.

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth.

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled.

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken.

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass.

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest.

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds.

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled.

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means.

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach.

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with.

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast.

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again.

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up.

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl.

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper.

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit.

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks.

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem.

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself.

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous.

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies.

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose.

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t.

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder.

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy.

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now.

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands.

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign.

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs.

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible.

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it.

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face.

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table.

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough.

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake.

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better, but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him.

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now.

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?”

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that.

“That was a mistake,” you muttered.

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach.

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse.

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway.

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again.

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man.

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul.

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her.

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip.

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up.

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside.

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room.

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on.

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought.

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open.

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her.

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms.

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it.

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower.

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further.

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this.

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room.

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in.

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before.

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out.

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him.

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed.

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again.

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane.

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot.

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted.

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face.

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games.

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again.

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore.

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now.

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did.

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention.

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty.

She’ll be better off here.

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass.

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul

353 notes · View notes

coveted-covey · 4 months

Text

a/n: minors please don't interact. blank and ageless blogs are going to be blocked. 🚶‍♀️ this was supposed to be posted a month ago but I got stuck 1.6k words in. literally that one bake off meme except it went like "started writing it. had a month's long block. but here it is now so bon appetit." ...anyways!

cw: Cove and reader are 23 (step 4 age!), established relationship, making out, some s*xual tension (note sure if this cw is needed), multiple mentions of alcohol and reader drinking/getting drunk, slightly OOC!Cove, but I totally see him doing it if push comes to shove and so here we are… or maybe I’m just projecting! :D this is also not beta read. but either way, enjoy! let me know if I missed anything else in the tags.

Word count: 2,016

You're 97% certain that you're going crazy.

That or there's something in the air, but whatever it is you realize that you don't really care. Nothing comes close to the urgency that is Cove James Holden.

With spasming hands, you grab ahold of his hair as you try to breathe in between the small gaps that you afford yourself. When that becomes insufficient, you press yourself further into his personal space.

“[Name], w-wait–” Cove gasps as you bite his lower lip. “Let's go inside first–”

You stop your assault of his mouth, replacing it with your gentle thumb instead. Cove’s brain is short-circuiting and your rapt attention at his lips is absolutely not helping. You giggle as you tug his lips down with your thumb. “Your lips are so swollen, baby.”

He lets out a groan of half-embarassment and half-wantonness. “I shouldn't have let you drink tonight.” Realizing that he should use the opportunity of you not pressing your own to his lips as of yet, he quickly grabs his keys from his pocket then opens the door of his apartment.

The low creaking of the door captures your attention, then you dangerously swerve as you snap your attention back to him. “Ahh, here it is! Homeee~” you drawl.

He grabs your waist as you almost bump to one of his floormates passing through the corridor. “[Name], be quiet,” he mutters lowly then quickly apologizes to the old lady, cheeks reddening. If it could go any redder at this point, that is.

He leads you inside and you lean your full weight against him. He didn’t even stagger. You would have marvelled at his strength if had you been paying attention, but alas you were briefly distracted by the little to no light that welcomed you as you stepped into the threshold.

“It's so dark here. Why is it so dark?” You whine.

Cove shuts the door then puts down your bags beside his shoe rack. He wordlessly flicks the light switch on then turns to you. “Sit down here for a second.”

“Hmm?” Your eyes blink at the blue lounge chair he's patting. When you make no move, he gently sits you down then moves to take off your shoes.

You stare at him, eyes slightly unfocused. “Hey…”

“Yes, [Name]?” He looks up at you from the floor and you giggle.

You lean into his ear. “You look good kneeling.”

“God.”

Cove looks up then mutters something underneath his breath. He closes his eyes shut, lips in a deep frown and brows furrowing despite the bright blush on his cheeks. You're going to be the death of him.

A beat passes.

He clears his throat. “I’m gonna help you change your clothes and then I’m putting you to bed, okay? Come on,” he gives you his hand to help you up, but you lightly swat his hand away.

“Nooo, I want a piggyback ride!”

Cove tries to think back to the first time you got yourself this inebriated. Except nothing comes close to mind. There was that one time your parents let you have wine on your 18th birthday, but that was in the privacy of your own home, and you were not allowed to stay up with Cove with just the both of you. With all things considered, then, this would be the first time. He has half a mind to call the Last’s but didn’t, considering the both of you are full-grown adults at this point and he’s capable of taking care of you tonight.

He is… right?

Your head lolls a bit to the side, then leans back next to his head. “You’re so warm,” you hummed as you tightened your arms around his shoulders.

“You are, too. I’m gonna put you down now, ‘kay?”

Your lips tremble, your intoxicated mind irrationally offended with the thought of him going away from you. You hiccup. “Are you mad at me?” Another hiccup. “Don’t let go, please?”

“[N-name], are you crying? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” he tries to look at you, but human heads can only turn up to a certain angle. “I won’t go away, I promise. I’m just gonna let you down on the bed.”

You sniffle, nodding despite Cove not facing you. “Okay…”

You feel what you can only assume as his mattress beneath you as he deposits you down onto the soft covers. You come face to face with his worried face as he examines your countenance with his hands on both sides.

“Don’t cry,” he swipes his thumb at a stray tear, his heart breaking at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips. “I think you’re underestimating your own importance in my life,” he lets out a sad chuckle. “I’ll never, ever, let you go out of my own accord. You’re it for me. My soulmate, the love of my life. I’ll spend forever loving you if I could. So don’t cry, okay? Honestly you would have to be the one to decide if you get sick of me at some point, and only then will I consider leaving you. But until then—and God knows leaving you, ever, is not what I would want—I’m yours.”

He ends his speech with a tender kiss on your forehead.

Being reasonably touched and rightfully overwhelmed at your boyfriend’s reaffirmation of his love aside, it seems like the alcohol is affecting you so much worse than you would have liked. It’s getting embarrassing and sober you would definitely hit yourself upside the head with how ridiculous you’re reacting.

You start sobbing.

“Waaaahh, I love you so, so, so much!” you wail as you bury your face on his stomach, hugging him in a vice grip. Cove can only hug you as tight as your positions can allow him, rubbing your back soothingly as he tries his best to calm you down.

A couple minutes of uncontrolled sobbing and you getting helped by Cove to get cleaned up for bed later, you’re now snug under his covers, waiting for him to come back from the kitchen to get a fresh glass of cold water.

“Here you go,” he puts the glass on the sidetable and you sit up to drink it. You gulp down the refreshing water in no time.

Having calmed down from the blindsiding, alcohol-driven, emotional outburst earlier, you can only look at him sheepishly as you are hit with sudden clarity. “I’m sorry for the, uh, sorry for being unreasonable earlier. I’m 100% blaming the alcohol,” you laugh lightly. You try to ignore the urge to pinch yourself out of embarrassment.

“Are you feeling better now?” he gives you such a heavy look that you can’t help but find the texture of his covers particularly interesting. Great, now you’ve disappointed him.

“Yes, yes, I do. I’m really sorry about earlier, I was probably being a bother. I’m not sure I will swear off alcohol completely, but I’ll try to keep it to an ultra reasonable amount and not end up being completely hammermpgh—”

Cove leans forward and takes your lips against his own, shutting you up and pushing you back down on the bed in the process. “Don’t misunderstand, you can do whatever you want as long as you’re not totally endangering yourself and I will take care of you, but it seems like we’re still not seeing eye to eye in one crucial thing.”

Your head still reeling from the kiss, you can only open and close your mouth like a silly guppy. “W-what—”

“You’re not being a bother to me. Not ever,” he frowns, peeved at, and saddened by you downplaying yourself. “You never have to apologize for the things that I do for you because I love you and you’d do the same thing for me in a heartbeat.”

“But I—”

The rest of your sentence was interrupted by your beloved boyfriend leaning in once again to capture your lips in another searing kiss. “None of that,” he murmurs from above you, and your heart starts to race at the palpable tension between the two of you. “Do you understand, [Name]?”

You take in his state from above you, his eyebrows furrowed, pupils dilated, cheeks rosy pink, and lips deliciously swollen. You gulp as you feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I-I do. I understand.”

“Good,” he whispers lowly, and you’ve never wanted to shriek so hard in your life. You try to look back in your whole relationship with your neighbor-turned-friend-turned-best friend-turned-childhood sweetheart-turned-boyfriend and try to pinpoint a time he was ever this… this… this INTENSE and HOT and you want to faint.

You think you are going to faint.

Presumably contented from your response, he finally pulls back and you’re left trying to settle your breathing. Before he can step away to get to his side of the bed, however, you abruptly sit up to grab at his sleeve.

“Wait.”

He stops, looking at you with questioning eyes. You almost balk but steel yourself, eyes glinting with newfound (and undoubtedly short-lived?) confidence. “Are you seriously going to leave like that?”

“Like what?” His wavy eyebrows rise and the edge of his lips curls up in a familiar way that basically told you that the jig is up. “Like what, baby? And for the record, you did look good underneath me.”

You can almost feel your ears blowing out smoke out of embarrassment. Did he just—

Well, two can play at that game.

You brace yourself harder then hit him with, “Well, if I looked so good, why don’t you do it again?”

He looks away, and you see the traces of his flush from his ear to neck becoming more and more vibrant.

Ah. There he is.

“A-aren’t you tired?”

With an unexpected gracefulness of a predator stalking its captured prey, you lean in close to his ear. “Not for you, I’m not.” Then you give him the most seductive look you can muster.

He bites his lip and your eyes follow the movement. You watch as the gears turn in his head debating whether to be responsible and make you get some rest, or to give in to your temptation and give you what you want.

Breathing out shakily, he gently removes your grip from him and puts your hand on your lap. You look up at him in confusion. He smiles apologetically then gives you a tender kiss on the lips. “You need rest, [Name]. You had a long flight coming home.”

You huff and pout, conceding. “Okay… but I want my cuddles.”

He laughs softly at that. “And cuddles you will get.”

Cove then turns the overhead lights off in exchange for lampshade. Once settled under the covers, he also turns the remaining source of light off, and you immediately draw yourself to his warmth. His arms reach around you to pull you in closer. You sigh, content.

“I missed this. I missed you.”

Cove hums then gives you another affectionate kiss on the top of your head. He smiles as he pays attention to how perfect you feel against him, like two puzzle pieces finally being connected after so long of being apart.

“I missed you too, more that you’d ever imagine.”

You laugh lightly at that, giving a soft peck at his skin in front of you. Cove giggles, ticklish. “Not everything is a competition, Mr. Cove Holden.”

“Alright, alright,” he giggles, squeezing you closer to him. “Get some rest, [Name]. I love you.”

You smile to yourself as tiredness catches up to you and your eyelids become heavy. “I love—” You let out a small yawn that Cove also catches. You share another soft laughter, like two lovers sharing secrets under the blankets, a couple finally reuniting after a while of being apart. “I love you, too.”

And with that, the two of you go into a peaceful slumber, with you vaguely thinking of getting back at him in the morning for not giving in to you earlier. Maybe he’ll be in for a surprise…

#divider by @cafekitsune #cove holden x reader #cove holden fluff #cove holden x you #cove holden x reader fluff #cove x mc #olba cove #cove x reader #our life cove #cove holden #cove our life

161 notes · View notes