#I went for more of a like… built from a reflection of who he is and how he sees himself angle 🥴💕 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kateschi · 2 months ago

Text

where pride meets love

synopsis: in a u.a. highschool reunion, your husband is up next in introducing his family.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: inspired by @call-memissbrightside

the gymnasium at u.a. is alive with activity, filled with faculty, students, and heroes from all walks of life.

katsuki’s standing near the back, holding your baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at the fabric of his hero uniform, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her.

his expression is a mix of annoyance—because honestly, this whole “family introduction” thing is a bit much—and tenderness, which only those closest to him will ever notice.

you stand beside him, your hand resting on his arm, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something different in his usual scowl—something soft.

you’ve seen it before, but only in moments like this, when he’s looking at the little life in his arms or the family he’s built.

principal nezu steps forward with a polite clap of his paws.

“thank you all for coming! we’re glad to have so many wonderful alumni here today. if anyone with families would like to introduce them, now’s your chance.”

the crowd goes quiet, waiting for someone to step up. katsuki glares around, crossing his arms over his chest, but it’s obvious he’s trying to look disinterested in the attention he’s about to receive.

it doesn’t work, though. he feels all eyes on him, even before nezu directs them that way.

you give him a small smile, teasing him with a gentle nudge to his side. “you ready to show your family off?”

he scoffs but doesn’t pull away. instead, his gaze softens just a little when he looks down at your daughter, who smiles up at him with those same bright eyes you both adore so much.

his chest swells, and despite his usual gruffness, his pride is impossible to hide.

you feel it too—the silent understanding between the two of you, the knowledge that this moment, in front of everyone, is just another reflection of how far your life together has come.

with a sigh, katsuki straightens his back, shoulders broadening as he stands a little taller. “alright, fine. let’s get this over with,” he mutters under his breath. but then he clears his throat, lifting his chin just a bit.

he shifts his daughter against his shoulder, gently adjusting her so she’s more comfortable in his arms, and with a look at you that says, here we go, he raises his voice for everyone to hear.

“this—” he gestures to your baby, her tiny hands reaching for him in her usual, curious way—“this is my kickass baby.”

he flashes a rare smile down at her, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts, before pulling you into him with his free arm, draping it over your shoulders.

“and this here,” he says, puffing his chest out slightly, “this is my kickass wife, y/n. the best damn woman in the world.”

you catch his eye, and for a brief moment, it feels like the whole room has faded away. there’s only the two of you, standing side by side, as he proudly introduces you to everyone in his own way.

a few of the students near the front start whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. kirishima, always the supportive friend, claps katsuki on the back, his grin wide.

"man, you really went all out with the family introduction, huh?" kirishima laughs, his voice loud enough for katsuki to hear.

katsuki looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

instead, it’s just the usual katsuki way of pretending to be annoyed. “shut it,” he growls, but his hand tightens around yours.

kirishima raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, you’re looking like a proud family man.”

“damn right I am,” katsuki mutters, his gaze falling back on your daughter, who is now gripping his finger as she babbles in her own little way.

his eyes soften again, a rare, unguarded moment that no one else seems to notice, but you do.

you always do.

as the buzz in the room continues around them, katsuki’s gaze remains fixed on your daughter, his lips pulling into the smallest of smiles as he watches her reach for his hand.

she’s talking—if you can call it that—her baby words tumbling out like she’s already got something important to say.

you can hear the quiet adoration in katsuki’s voice when he responds to her, low and soft, “yeah, yeah, I hear ya, kid.”

you lean into his side, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders feeling like home. it’s one of those moments where everything feels right.

amid the chaos, in front of so many people, katsuki looks just like the dad you always knew he’d be—strong, protective, and completely head over heels for the tiny person in his arms.

the crowd slowly starts to disperse, some students moving towards the refreshment table, others chatting amongst themselves.

katsuki stays still, barely noticing the shift in the room. his eyes stay locked on your baby, a tiny, content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“want me to take her?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow. “you look like you could use a break.”

katsuki looks down at your daughter, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her. she stares up at him, her big eyes soft and trusting, and for a brief second, it seems like time stands still.

then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, but the fondness in his gaze remains.

“nah,” he mutters gruffly. “she’s good here. I’m fine.”

you let out a small chuckle and settle against him, your hand resting gently on his arm as you watch your daughter settle down against his chest, a soft yawn escaping her lips.

katsuki pulls her a little closer, his other arm winding around you, bringing you both in.

the way his grip tightens around both of you, the way his hand moves just a little bit to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and the sound of the crowd fades to the background.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#mha x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou x female reader

2K notes · View notes

fear-less · 26 days ago

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 there'll be happiness after you

paring: remus lupin x f!reader x secret marauder

➥ in which, remus breaks up with you and one of his friends (who secretly liked you before you and remus had even gotten together) helps you move on with the break up.

warnings: angst, happy ending, prolly tons of errors..oops, semi rushed, idk what else:3

2.5k words

It was a chilly evening at Hogwarts. The grounds had begun to fall silent as the last few students trickled inside for dinner. You were supposed to be in the Great Hall with your friends, but something had pulled you to the lake instead. The stillness of the water reflected the state of your mind—unsettled, confused, and too tangled to make sense of.

You perched at the edge of the lake, your feet dangling just above the surface. The cool breeze tugged at your hair, but you barely noticed. The ache in your chest was louder than the wind, and every time you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts would return to him: Remus Lupin.

You used to feel so certain about him, about the future the two of you could build together. But now? Now it all seemed so far away, as though it had never really existed. You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to pool behind your eyelids before they fell. Remus had walked away, and in doing so, he had taken with him a part of you. His words echoed in your mind, sharp and bitter: “I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone who can give you a future.”

You had argued, of course. You’d told him you didn’t care about his past or the darkness that followed him, that you loved him for him—for all of him. But his fears had won, as they always had.

You hadn’t expected to feel so empty.

The day Remus had told you it was over, you felt like you were watching the most beautiful thing you’d ever known slip away in slow motion. The setting sun cast long shadows in the Gryffindor common room as you sat together on the couch, the space between you palpable.

“Y/N, please understand,” Remus had pleaded, his voice soft but firm. “I love you more than I can say, but I can’t keep asking you to love someone like me.”

His words had struck you like a blow to the chest. Your heart had started racing, and your hands had trembled in your lap. “Remus, what do you mean? I want this—us—so badly.”

He had sighed, running a hand through his disheveled brown hair. “I can’t be what you need. I won’t let you waste your life with someone who’s broken.”

You hadn’t been able to stop the tears from falling. “You’re not broken. You’re just... you. I don’t need someone perfect.”

But he had only shaken his head, his eyes filled with regret. “I can’t be the person you deserve. You deserve someone who can be with you, without fear, without secrets. You deserve someone who can love you without hurting you.”

In that moment, something in you had shattered. The love you had felt so sure of—the love you had given him so completely—wasn’t enough to keep him from running. And as you watched him walk away, you felt something break inside you, something that hadn’t been fixed since.

The next few weeks were a blur. You still went to classes, you still spent time with your friends, but everything felt off. Every time you saw Remus, your heart would flutter, only to crash when you remembered that things were different now. He no longer looked at you like he used to, with the warmth and affection you had once seen in his eyes.

And you? You were pretending, trying to fit in with a world that felt too bright, too loud. Your thoughts kept drifting to the past, to all the memories you had built with him, and every time, the hollow ache in your chest grew stronger.

One evening, as you found yourself alone on the grounds again, your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You glanced up to see James Potter walking toward you. His usual confidence was tempered by the concern in his eyes. “Hey, what’s going on? You’ve been... off lately.”

You offered a faint smile, shrugging. “Just tired, I guess. A lot on my mind.”

James sat beside you, his long legs extending in front of him as he stared at the lake, not pressing you for an answer. It wasn’t that James didn’t know what had happened—it was obvious to everyone—but he never pushed. He just was there.

“You know,” James said casually, breaking the silence, “there’s this little thing called ‘talking about it.’” His tone was teasing, but there was a softness underneath that made your heart ache a little.

“I don’t really know where to start,” you admitted, looking at your hands. “I... I just feel like I gave everything, and now I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

James turned his head to look at you, his brow furrowing. “You’re still you. You’re just a little lost right now.”

You blinked, surprised at his insight. “How do you know?”

James shrugged, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. You just have that look about you. Like you’re carrying something heavy. But you don’t have to carry it alone, Y/N.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. His words, his kindness, made something stir inside of you. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something else. Something that felt safe.

“I think I’ve been pretending a little too much,” you said softly. “I’ve been trying to act like I’m fine, but I’m really not.”

James met your gaze, his expression genuine. “It’s okay to not be fine, you know? You don’t have to put on a brave face all the time.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt the tears you’d been holding back threaten to spill over. But James didn’t pull away. He didn’t rush to comfort you, either. He just stayed beside you, steady and calm.

The days passed, and you spent more time with James. It wasn’t romantic at first, not in the way you’d imagined falling for someone. It wasn’t instant sparks and overwhelming chemistry—it was easy, familiar, and comforting.

James never pushed. He let you come to him when you were ready. He’d show up with a cup of tea when you were studying late in the library, or crack a joke when you looked like you were spiraling into your own head. Slowly, you began to feel the tightness in your chest loosen. It wasn’t a fix—it wasn’t a cure—but it was a start.

One evening, as the two of you sat outside on the Quidditch pitch, the cool breeze whipping through your hair, James spoke up.

“You know, I think you’re allowed to feel angry about it all. About Remus.”

You stiffened, surprised. “I don’t want to be angry.”

“I’m not saying you should stay angry forever,” James replied gently. “But you’ve been through a lot. And sometimes, it’s okay to be angry before you can move on.”

You looked at him, his expression open and understanding. It was a rare thing—someone who didn’t shy away from your pain, someone who let you feel what you needed to feel. “I guess you’re right.”

James reaches over and nudges you with his elbow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “You know, you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here, even if you just need someone to listen.”

There was a warmth in his words that made something stir inside of you, something both comforting and unfamiliar. You weren’t sure if it was love yet—but it was a quiet understanding. A connection.

The crisp evening air was filled with the sound of cheers as Gryffindor’s Quidditch team celebrated their victory. James was at the center of the group, his eyes sparkling with excitement, but you found yourself watching him from the sidelines. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed since you last looked at him like this—really looked at him.

The glow of the setting sun reflected off the Quidditch pitch, casting long shadows across the field, and in that moment, something inside you stirred. It wasn’t love—not yet—but it was something more than what you’d ever expected.

James had always been there for you—since the breakup with Remus, since the pain that had felt endless. He never pushed, never tried to fill the empty space that Remus had left. Instead, he simply stayed by your side, offering comfort in small, quiet ways. And over time, you had come to realize that the man standing before you was someone you could trust. Someone you didn’t have to try so hard to impress. Someone who understood without words.

When the last of the cheering died down, James broke away from his teammates, scanning the crowd for you. As his eyes found yours, a smile spread across his face. It was an effortless, warm smile—the kind that made your heart flutter without warning.

"Hey," he said as he jogged up to you, his cheeks flushed from the game, his dark hair sticking out in all directions. "We did it! Did you see that last goal?"

You laughed softly, standing up from where you had been sitting on the stone bench. "I saw it. You were brilliant as always."

He grinned, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "What can I say? I'm a natural." Then his expression softened slightly, and he looked at you more seriously. "But seriously, I’m glad you were here to watch. Means a lot to me."

Something about his words—simple, genuine—struck a chord in you. Your heart swelled, and for the first time in months, the pain you’d carried around seemed to subside, just for a moment.

"I’m glad to be here too, James," you replied, your voice quieter than usual.

James tilted his head slightly, studying you with those warm, brown eyes of his. The playfulness of earlier had faded, replaced by something softer. "Are you okay? You’ve been distant lately. More than usual."

You hesitated. It was easy to say you were fine, but lately, you had begun to realize just how much you had been holding back. The grief. The confusion. The old feelings for Remus that you were still trying to untangle.

"I think... I think I’m starting to be," you said slowly. "Not all the way there, but I’m getting there."

James gave you a half-smile, the kind that showed he wasn’t quite buying it, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his presence warm and steady beside you.

"I’m glad," he said, his voice low. "I’m really glad."

You looked up at him then, and there was something about the way he was looking at you—his face open, without any pretense—that made something inside you click. You didn’t have to force yourself to feel something. With James, you simply were. No expectations, no pressure.

"I didn’t expect this," you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed but also strangely relieved. "You’ve always been there for me, James. Even when I didn’t think I deserved it."

He shook his head, smiling as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "You don’t have to deserve it, Y/N. You’re my friend. And I... I care about you more than you know."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was no fanfare, no grand gestures, but in that moment, his honesty was enough.

"You’ve been so patient with me," you whispered, almost to yourself, "and I don’t know what I’d have done without you."

James didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours as he gazed at the distant horizon. The silence between you felt comfortable, not awkward. And when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Y/N," he confessed, his tone lighter but carrying an honesty you hadn’t expected. "I know you’ve been through a lot. And I’m not trying to replace Remus or anything. I just..." He paused, his voice growing more serious. "I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever that means."

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten. You didn’t know exactly what it meant either, but something was shifting. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—you could start something new. A chapter you hadn’t anticipated, but one that felt right all the same.

Before you could say anything more, James turned to face you, his hand moving as though to catch your eye. "I don’t know what the future holds, Y/N," he said, his voice softer now, "but I want to find out with you. Even if it’s just one step at a time."

You swallowed, feeling an unexpected surge of emotion. All the walls you’d built up in your heart were starting to crumble, piece by piece, and in their place was something both terrifying and beautiful.

"I think I’m ready to take that step," you whispered, meeting his gaze.

James’ face broke into a smile that felt brighter than any Quidditch victory. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you replied, the word tasting like a promise. Not just to him, but to yourself as well.

In the weeks that followed, things changed between you and James—but in the way that felt comfortable, not rushed. There was no sudden confession of love, no dramatic gesture that marked the shift. It was a slow burn, built on late-night conversations, stolen glances, and quiet moments spent together.

James continued to be your rock, but now, there was something else there too—an undercurrent of something more. You caught him looking at you a little longer than before, his smile lingering in a way that made your heartbeat a little faster. And though you still carried the remnants of your past with Remus, you began to see James in a new light, as someone who could help you heal, someone who wasn’t afraid to be patient with you as you learned to love yourself again.

One evening, after studying late in the library, James walked you back to the common room. The firelight flickered from the hearth, casting warm shadows on the stone walls.

"I’m proud of you, you know," he said suddenly, his voice low. "For how far you’ve come."

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his words. "Proud of me?" you repeated, a small smile forming on your lips. "For what?"

"For letting go of the past," he said, meeting your eyes. "For letting yourself heal. It’s not easy, Y/N. But you’ve been strong through it all."

Your heart swelled at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to you before—not like that. It wasn’t pity or sympathy, but admiration. And it made you feel... seen.

"Thank you, James," you whispered, your voice catching in your throat.

James didn’t say anything for a moment, just gazing at you with an expression that made your stomach flutter. And then, without another word, he took your hand in his. It wasn’t grand or overdramatic, but it felt significant—like the first step toward something new. Something you hadn’t even known you needed until now.

"Let’s keep walking," he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

And you did. One step at a time.

464 notes · View notes

jinwoosbabyboo · 4 months ago

Text

Baby You're Perfect

LADS Men handling their plus size MC who is feeling insecure about her body. A/N: Let me preface this by saying The LADS Men love YOU no matter what you look like(and so do I). Remember MC is YOUUUUU. You are the main character yes you reading this. You're a baddie flash me a titty bitch. (There's love behind that 'bitch') [Requested by: kookieluvs]

Zayne

"Don't you think you'd be happy with someone ... Skinnier?" Zayne looks at you with a puzzled expression. He couldn't understand where this was coming from. "What do you mean?"

"Well you know...." Your voice trailed off not knowing how to word what you were saying without making it sound like you were trying to break up. "I don't please tell me"

You wrung your hands in front of you trying to calm your scattered brain. "I just think I'd be prettier if I was skinny ... what do you think?" Zayne stares back at you taking in your features which only caused you to become even more nervous. "Is that what you want?"

"Don't answer my question with a question" You narrowed your eyes at him. He simply chuckled before pinching your cheek. "So cute." You slapped his hand away rolling your eyes. You were quickly becoming annoyed at how it seemed like he was avoiding answering your question. You were three seconds away from storming out of the room in embarrassment when he spoke again. "I love you just the way you are MC have I ever made you feel as though I don't?"

"Well no..."

"I think if you want to lose weight because it would make you happy I will gladly attend gym sessions with you" He gently grabs your hand bringing it to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

Butterflies.

He quickly followed up his gentle kiss with a soft kiss to your neck before leaning in and whispering in your ear. "However, if you want to lose weight because you think that's what I'd like then maybe I'm not worshipping you enough"

Rafayel

"What are you doing?" You jumped at Rafayel sneaking up behind you. He had caught you red handed squeezing your love handles while twisting and turning looking at yourself in the mirror. "Why are you moving in silence like that?"

"You answer my question first" He crossed his arms over his chest; leaning against the doorframe. "I'm just ... not feeling confident today..." You said turning back to face the full length mirror. Your reflection stared back at you as you stood there in nothing but a matching bra and panty set. "I wanted to surprise you with this new set, but-"

"But what?" Rafayel approached you wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. "I feel like I'm built like a bus driver" Rafayel couldn't hold back his laughter. He pfffft all in your ear hunching over squealing with laughter. "Its not funny!"

"I'm not laughing at you cutie I'm laughing at the way you described it" He collected himself and went back to hugging you from behind swaying you from side to side as he kissed your temple. "Believe me" He locked eyes with you in the mirror "You are art personified beloved I could stare at you for hours and never get tired of what I'm looking at"

Xavier

You were sat up leaning against the headboard in Xaviers bed as he laid between your legs with his arms wrapped around your waist. "Stop that" You met his blue eyes with confusion in yours. "Stop what?" Xavier tilted his chin towards your restless hands that kept smoothing up and down your thighs. "You do that every time you start overthinking"

"I'm not overthinking ... I'm just thinking" You replied defensively. "About?" The words were caught in your throat as Xavier stared with narrowed eyes awaiting your response. "I think I need to lose weight..."

"You don't need to do anything except breathe and die" You rolled your eyes at his response before tugging on the hem of your shirt. "You honestly believe I wouldn't be prettier if I was skinny?"

"Baby you're perfect ... I know I would love you no matter what" Before you could respond with another remark about yourself he gently started rubbing circles on your back with his thumb and continued "You care too much about what others think all that matters is what you think ... you have to spend the rest of your life with yourself ... why not fall in love with you? ... I fell in love with you and I will never regret it"

Sylus

Sylus grabbed your hand spinning you around so fast you didn't even have time to catch yourself. He pinned your arms behind you and pressed his chest into yours. "What do you think you're doing?" You stared back at him with your heart beating out of your chest. You didn't hear him come into your shared bedroom on the Onychinus base. "I- I w-was just"

"Take your time" He said with a softness in his eyes, but his iron grip never wavered. "I was just trying to suck in my stomach to see if I would look better you know...."

"I don't"

"Skinny! If I was skinny or at least a little thinner" Finally he released your hands as he crossed his arms over his chest eyeing you. On the outside you stood tall under his scrutinizing stare, but inside your nerves were going haywire. "And why do you want to lose weight?"

"Nothing fits me-"

"That's what tailoring is for" He cut you off with a matter of fact tone.

"Well what if people see us and think-"

Cutting you off again "Once you realize the you are a background character in ninety-nine percent of the worlds lives your life will get much easier." Your mouth snapped shut as he continued "You can't worry about what others think of you or you will stunt your own growth in life." Your eyes fell as you tried to soak up his words. He grabbed you by the chin as he tilted your head up and leaned down to make eye contact.

"Once you find those you care about and those who care about you that's all that matters" He poked your forehead before standing back to his full height. "And don't worry until you learn to fully love yourself I will love you enough for the both of us ... there's no love purer than mine."

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads sylus #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

475 notes · View notes

mageofspace924 · 1 month ago

Text

i was casually thinking about fiyero's costumes and how he went from musical red to movie blue bc fiyero is associated w blue in the books, and then i thought: why give the dancing-through-life-flirty-i-dont-really-care-but-i-do guy a full uniform suit when he arrives at school versus in the musical he's just wearing rolled up sleeves and a vest? its a reflection of his vulnerability. ofc its a well-known very much used symbol of vulnerability but still one nonetheless.

1) first outfit change: when movie fiyero meets elphaba, he's wearing the blue vest and the white sleeved shirt, the coat isnt in sight. when he's alone he allows some honesty/truth to himself, hence the uncovered sleeves. and when he does interact w elphaba, the exchange is quick fire yet subtly genuine (as much as one can get from meeting someone for the first time) not from his rehearsed lines as he does when he meets glinda for the first time (a crowd he knows how to charm, act around, fall into line with).

2) 2nd outfit change: arrives at shiz in full garment uniform wear, coat, vest, everything. he's fully prepared to play the role he's been uptaking: rich vinkun playboy prince looking to have a good time. the glimpse we had when he met elphaba is gone, no more trying to banter, moreso rehearsed flirting both glinda and fiyero know well. no one gets to see a crack in that armor.

3) 3rd outfit change: his shiz coat is open and we see his white garment underneath, a hint that yes, he's loosening up at shiz, but also matches the disagreeing expressions when dr. dillamond is taken away and the cub is kept in a cage. it's a bit of the genuine caring fiyero coming thru, who feels a bit of injustice esp bc his friend is a horse.

4) 4th outfit change: the coat is taken off and we get fiyero at his most vulnerable so far. his sleeves are rolled up as opposed to the first outfit with billowing sleeves to his wrists. and here is the most vulnerable scene between him and elphaba bc she saw right through his existentialism in dancing through life (could argue she saw a bit of him when she met him first bc she had a small smirk). he's laid completely bare and like the scene went, he had no clue how to deal w it.

5) 5th outfit change: at the train station, hes back in full uniform, bc that vulnerable moment shocked him and shook his foundations of his image/front. he maybe didnt know he had the capacity for that vulnerability until it happened and thats why hes so off kilter and shaken, starting to rethink his everything bc of elphaba. that vulnerability now persists through that uniform, his self-proclaimed image he's built up between countless schools and several dates etc. could be said that crack in the armor is visibly represented through the flower he gives to her bc it's tucked in his collar first VERSUS the musical when he runs up w a bouquet already in hand.

ALL IN ALL the move has the opportunity to tell REALLY AMAZING STORIES through the clothes/fashion, and they've really stepped up to the challenge and are making the most of it AHDJDJS so good + itches my brain

i didnt add in the dance uniform bc i forgot lmao but that plus the uniform he wears in thank goodness are also more decked out than the other stuff he wears, the cpatain uniform WAY more decorated and thats when he hides the most (dance scene he is fully in his element, he can hide safely in that playboy persona). cant wait to see all of that disappear in as long as youre mine HAHDJDJSS

#guys its 430 am im so unwell #i actually cant sleep theyre in my evedy thought #anyways i love musical fiyero #im just yapping about how the movie is making the most of its bigger budget and longer screen time #wicked #wicked movie #wicked musical #elphaba thropp #fiyero tigelaar #fiyeraba #fiyero x elphaba

375 notes · View notes

a-substantial-trash-pile · 2 months ago

Text

mouthwashing responsibility au rambles below cut 🫡

(spoiler warning for the actual game obviously)

- even though jimmy got deservedly knocked out by anya and thrown into the cryopod early on, the crash still does happen. it's a freak accident this time, like maybe a piece of space debris just happened to hurtle right into them without time to dodge. it's like the tulpar is destined to crash. but this time it's a story about a group of people finding hope and strength in each other and finding what they themselves can be capable of in a time of crisis. btw i just mean curly, anya, swansea, and daisuke. i am NOT repenting jimmy. he ain't "fixing" shit.

- i'm sorry for frying curly again even though this is supposed to be an au with a happier ending 😭 the way his loss of autonomy reflects anya's own loss of it, making him feel firsthand the suffering she went through in a way, felt too important to just remove. curly's injuries aren't as terrible as in the original timeline since swansea rescued him earlier. and by "not as terrible" i mean he only loses a leg and not all of his limbs. he will get some function in his hands eventually and anya teaches him sign language to help him communicate (she teaches the others too).

- speaking of anya, she really shows her stuff as a nurse (even in the original timeline she does, managing to keep curly alive like that). she treats curly and swansea and is much more of a pillar of strength for the crew than she herself realizes. pre-crash and post-jimmy-getting-fired, she was able to relax and open up more with everyone, building a stronger bond. when the crash happens, anya is of course terrified and hella stressed, but now she knows she has people who have her back, and it helps. she can be more confident in herself without a certain someone being there to belittle and hurt her. this time when she has to deal with something difficult, something traumatizing, she has people to support her. in this au, she is not pregnant because if she was, i don't see how keeping the baby would be a good thing for her. and i don't want her to have to deal with that situation without the proper medical supplies on top of everything else. she's been through enough.

- btw there is no shipping in this au. i personally really don't see how it could happen between anyone on the crew. if there was some sort of spark between anya and curly, it's definitely gone now and won't happen again. the most they'll be are friends (although the friendship/trust will have to be built from the ground up again after everything that's happened with jimmy). the only ship here is the tulpar.

- i know daisuke is seen as a "dumb kid" but i really don't think that's the case. we are seeing him thru jimmy's perspective mostly after all and jimmy is the definition of an unreliable narrator. i headcanon daisuke as having adhd like me who tends to lose focus on tasks easily because your brain is just going 102929 miles a minute and wandering to all sorts of places like me. he feels like someone who doesn't exactly know where they want to go in life like me. also he's definitely a hawaii kid born and raised and talks pidgin sometimes like me except i lost the pidgin :(. i'm totally not projecting my asian ass on the asian boy or anything. BUT ANYWAY i wanted to give daisuke more stuff to do and a chance to prove to himself that he can do these things, he can step up. so that's partially why i made swansea burn his hands rescuing curly. daisuke can now be filled with Determination and be swansea's hands in repairing things as he heals. it's going to be hard and it's going to be frustrating for both parties and sometimes they'll get upset at each other. but it will inevitably be a great bonding experience for the two. i cannot resist the call for more father-son moments.

- swansea my beloved. i am so sorry for burning your beautiful hands please forgive 😔🙏 i have to make my faves suffer a little. swansea's hands will heal up eventually and he'll be able to use them again, but there will be scars. i think him having to guide daisuke with doing repairs n stuff on the ship as his hands recover gives him a mission. something to distract him from completely falling into despair and alcoholism. that man is hanging on by a thread but by god he's going to help get these kids through this. they've all grown closer since jimmy was sacked and swansea feels a sort of responsibility towards protecting anya, daisuke and curly as the oldest one there. it's the dad instincts y'know? on the real hard days, sometimes swansea thinks about cracking open a bottle of mouthwash, but he holds back because he feels he needs to stay strong for the crew. however he does have to learn that he can't shoulder everything and that he can rely on others. him having no choice but to have daisuke take over his tasks is a good way for him to learn that, i think. swansea is definitely a pillar of strength in this and the rest of the crew have a lot of affection for him (and vice versa even if swansea won't admit it). can you tell i really like swansea. he is such a foil to jimmy—a guy who has fucked up a lot in his life but actually acknowledges his mistakes and is trying his hardest to be a better person. aghh swansea i love you 💛💛

- after the crash happens, the cryopod room becomes inaccessible, so nobody is able to check on the state of jimmy in there. so they don't see that the crypod he's in eventually fails from damage and he escapes. this happens a couple weeks into the crash. jimmy is still pissed about everything and still can't see how he's done anything wrong (this is because he is a delusional asshole). in fact, he feels like he's the one who's been wronged and betrayed by everyone on the crew and he wants revenge. there will be a final confrontation between jimmy and the crew. spoilers: jimmy loses. i'm just undecided on who finishes it. it would be fitting if anya shot him, but i'm not sure that's something she'd necessarily want to do. she chose to be in the medical field after all. don't get me wrong, i think she would pull the trigger if it meant protecting the others. but i'd hate to have her kill, because even if jimmy deserves it, anya is a healer and would still probably feel guilty about it. i don't want to put even more shit on her plate. so i think swansea is the one to put jimmy down in the end. with the axe of course. i think he'd feel less guilty about doing it because it's something he's wanted to do since anya first told him about jimmy. oooh what if jimmy gets his hands on the gun, but daisuke tackles him, making him drop it, and anya gets it and shoots jimmy in the shoulder or leg or something to get him off of daisuke, and then swansea comes in with the axe to finish him off. that could be fun. that way anya won't have to actually kill but she'll still get to shoot jimmy. bless.

- the crew gets rescued eventually, but it's going to be a few months because pony express is a nightmare company. i'm honestly still not sure if pony express is even the one who will rescue them or even bother to look. i'm tempted to just have another ship happen across them by some miracle and help. real tempted to make that ship The Unreliable and turn this into a Mouthwashing x The Outer Worlds crossover quite honestly since both settings share similarities (megacorporations, cryosleep, etc). but idk. it's not like i can just write a fanfic or anything since writing is harder for me and who knows how long it will be before i even draw the idea. it's just yet another self-indulgent daydream for now.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing spoilers #mouthwashing au #responsibility au

294 notes · View notes

its-avalon-08 · 8 months ago

Note

hi !! can you do headcanons max verstappen X senna’s daugther!reader?

thank uuuu

hii !!! if i were to imagine senna's daughter!reader she would be so talented. she isn't a driver because of her built up trauma. (im fully aware that the timelines don't add up, don't add logic into it <3) she is an aerodynamic engineer, mainly responsible for making the car. she is secretly in love with speed and racing.

max and y/n met when they were just kids. max was a menace on track and y/n was terrified of racing. she saw speeding cars as a reminder of her father's passing. being good friends, y/n has a tradition of kissing max's helmet as a feeble attempt to keep him safe.

they started dating in 2019, and have been together ever since. y/n being the absolute genius she is, continues to work in redbull and delivers top of the line car designs leading to the dominance as seen on track.

max leaves a single, perfect red tulip on y/n's desk every race weekend, a silent promise to return safely.

y/n hides little notes in max's helmet before qualifying, each one a technical insight phrased like a love letter.

max, despite his aversion to early mornings, wakes up before y/n on important presentations to make her breakfast, his way of calming her pre-work jitters.

y/n, who finds airplanes stressful, uses a calming app max downloaded for her whenever they travel together.

max, after a particularly grueling race weekend, finds y/n curled up on the couch with a book about aerodynamics. he joins her, listening intently as she explains a new concept she's been working on, his full attention the sweetest victory lap.

max knows how deeply the lack of a father figure affected her, causing under-confidence and a constant need of validation. max knows this and never stops giving her words of affirmations.

everyone of the grid adores y/n. they see her spirit and her beautiful face reflect senna's in so many ways. max is fiercely protective of y/n, often defending her from questions about her father and his death.

y/n hates jos verstappen from the bottom of her heart. she is not scared of yelling at him when he berates max. she whispers affirmations into max's ears after a bad race (which was rare but not impossible)

when max crashes, y/n is the first to suffer from the highest intensity of a panic attack. she shivers and trembles until max gets out safely. after the crash in 2021 with hamilton which caused max to fall over in the medical center, y/n angirly stormed towards the cheerful hamilton, shouting angrily.

here's what happened ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

the smile evaporated as y/n marched towards him. it wasn't a walk, it was a storm surge. "congratulations? you call pushing max off the track at 200 mph congratulations?" her voice, usually calm and collected, was a tightly leashed fury. lewis blinked, his smile morphing into something defensive. "it was a racing incident, y/n. we both went for the corner." her voice cracked. "racing incident? you call leaving him stranded on the gravel, risking his life, a racing incident? do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you love walk away from a fireball?" the room held its breath. lewis's face paled. "y/n, i…" "no, you don't," she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion. "you don't get to pretend you know what it's like to see your dreams vanish in a cloud of smoke. you don't get to understand the terror of every single corner, every single race because you haven't lost anyone on this damn track!" tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the accusing stare she fixed on him. "max is more than a rival, lewis. he's a friend, a teammate, a human being. and today, you gambled with his life for a trophy." the silence stretched, suffocating. finally, lewis spoke, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. "y/n, i… i didn't…" "you didn't think," she finished the sentence for him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "just like some people never think about the consequences of their actions." turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence and a champion stripped of his celebratory air. as y/n reached the red bull garage, she found max emerging from the medical center, a sheepish grin on his face. relief washed over her, so strong it brought her to her knees. max rushed to her side, his concern a warm balm on her raw emotions. he held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

662 notes · View notes

catiuskaa · 2 months ago

Text

SAUVAGE.

jupiter, you’re hard (to get).

sum. jupiter may not smell like woody ambery trails or smoky accents, and he may seem like just a really big planet who’s really far away, but juno will always find him.

wc. 3.2k

cw. spacecrafts, stars, and planets, roman mythology, kudos to sabrina carpenter’s juno, producer!reader x idol!han, friends2lovers, a beer (if i must content warn you, i will) smut! car! heavy on kisses with a side of unprotected piv sex (don’t!) switch!jisung x switch!reader (undefined tbh)

scent. (♡) the perfume saga.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

Jupiter is the fifth planet from the Sun and the largest in the Solar System.

It is a gas giant with a mass more than two times that of all the other planets in the Solar System combined, and slightly less than one-thousandth the mass of the Sun. Its diameter is eleven times that of Earth, and a tenth that of the Sun. Its name derives from that of Jupiter, the chief deity of ancient Roman religion. Jupiter orbits the Sun at a distance of 5.20 AU (778.5 Gm), with an orbital period of 11.86 years.

However, Han Jisung isn’t quite as big or gaseous. He likes to believe he isn’t made up of metallic hydrogen, but rather stardust, he had said once —and you remembered, of course, because how couldn’t you—. He isn’t the oldest planet in the Solar System. He doesn’t run hotter than the Sun. He doesn’t have many many moons (95!) that spend ages to rotate around him.

Well. Not moons, anyways.

Juno is a NASA space probe orbiting the planet Jupiter.

It was built by Lockheed Martin and is operated by NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Juno entered a polar orbit of Jupiter in 2016 to begin a scientific investigation of the planet. After completing its mission, Juno was originally planned to be intentionally deorbited into Jupiter's atmosphere, but has since been approved to continue orbiting until contact is lost with the spacecraft.

Thing is. You’re not a spacecraft either. You weren’t built by whoever Lockheed Martin is. You can’t orbit around planets. And most definitely, you don’t keep in contact with NASA. Nevertheless, a part of you can’t help but relate, because, somehow, even after your mission was ultimately done, you couldn’t stop orbiting around Jupiter.

Well. Not Jupiter, anyways.

you: let’s do some cardio next day

jisungie🎀💫: cardio, you say? 😏

jisungie🎀💫: not even a coffee before taking me to your place? 🤨📸

Jupiter couldn’t even reach to make you feel the giddiness that Han somehow could trigger and make it overcome you. You kicked your feet, but when you entered and found your reflection in the elevator mirror, you clicked your tongue.

“Don’t be such a schoolgirl”, you mumbled to yourself, pressing the button, and heading up back home.

you: tsk tsk, you’re always thinking about food

And you’re always thinking about him, a mean voice in your head snapped back at you. You cursed, damning your own mind for betraying you. But, to spare you, it wasn’t that serious, you thought. You two interacted just the right amount.

He was an idol, for god’s sake. You weren’t catching feelings. That would be dumb on your side, the least.

So of course, when your phone chimes in the specific ringtone that, of course, you hadn’t set just for his contact, of course, you didn’t almost drop your purse when you read what he replied.

jisungie🎀💫: as if, silly

jisungie🎀💫: i ain’t eating no one for free

The text made you dizzy, so you forced yourself to back off from replying the first thing that came to mind.

Hungry? Eat me.

“Think straight for once,” you cursed out loud, passing your hands through your hair. Closing the door to your apartment and knocking your shoes off while your mind went off to other, far more interesting places and memories.

You clearly remembered the moment you met quirky, loveable Han Jisung. How inevitable it had been to just start orbiting around him with the excuse of your mission— producing one of his solos for an upcoming skz-record.

Headphones. It had been such a silly first encounter, yet so fitting for you two that you couldn’t help but cherish it dearly.

Lost in thought, you hadn’t been paying attention to where you were headed. Neither had he, and, which had ended with a little crash against each other. A meteor, not quite as devastating as so to kill a couple dinosaurs, but to leave a crater in your heart and create a small moon out of the pieces that scattered away shyly.

“Sorry!” You bowed your head, then stared at him.

“Hi,” he had said in a sheepish tone, hints of panting that you attributed to how he must’ve run back in hopes of catching you. “Guess you like wave to Earth too?”

And while he giggled, you told yourself you weren’t going to fall, but both Jupiter and Juno knew.

They had said the same thing about Rome.

jisungie🎀💫: entering jyp

you: at 21:43? jeez

jisungie🎀💫: what? i ain’t afraid of success bbg 💪

jisungie🎀💫: come over if you want

What would happen with any other person was that they’d smile and turn off their phone.

Well. Not Juno.

Not you, no.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

The studio smelled like bubble tea, and that’s how you knew he was still there.

“Oh, hey! I wasn’t sure if you were coming in.” Han smiled.

Sleepiness oozed off of him, and you grinned, cleaning the table from leftover crumbles as you set your bag down. Your heart twirled imaginary hairs when Jisung’s hands —hands with several rings, something that could sometimes be a lot to manage— left the keyboard and settled on his thighs, softly stroking them as he turned the chair to face you.

“Yeah. Wanted to work on a demo I owe to the girls,” you mentioned, taking your jacket and your mask off.

“Actually,” he started, and your hands tingled with the feeling that you’d help him in whatever he needed. Damnit, hands. Damn you, heart. “Could you help me with this demo? Jeonginnie asked me to go over it.”

You sipped from your own drink, as if to fake giving it a bit of a thought. You were going to say yes, of course. But instead, you scratched your arm, frowning lightly.

“Innie asked you?”

“It’s for his solo stage.” He clarified, turning back to face the computer. “We all have them for our tour.”

The way he entered the recording booth seemed distant, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder why as you fidgeted with your necklace and settled everything on the desk comfortably. Ji turned the light off, something slightly weird. He never did that with you, after all these years, and considering you two were the only ones there, you asked.

“Is it a high register?” You wondered, pressing the button on your left so he could hear you in his headphones. You blinked when you saw his figure slightly jolt in something like surprise.

“Uh, no. It’s just the… style of the song,” he giggled, putting his beanie on and tucking in the hairs that fell over his eyes.

Oh. That’s the one you gifted him.

“Sure. Mind if I give it a listen first?”

“Go ahead,” he replied without looking at you through the window.

Helping him came off naturally. The track for the girls was an excuse, one you had already forgotten. And as he started singing, you weren’t sure you’d remember any time soon.

“T-those are some bold lyrics, huh?”

Hallucination.

Jisung covered his eyes with his beanie, giggling.

“It’s Innie’s fault. He gets it from Chan.”

“What’s Chan’s solo about?” You asked with a laugh.

You didn’t expect Jisung to stare at you and swallow dry.

“He says it’s about trains.” He shrugged, as if he had remembered suddenly that he was supposed to answer your question.

When you both were done, it was late. Really late. He insisted you two grabbed a beer in the convenience store nearby, but you took a juice, claiming you had to drive.

“I’ll uh, I’ll get the bus, seriously,” he raised his hands as you both exited the store, beer in hand.

“Ji,” you deadpanned, finishing your juice. Thank God you liked him, because sometimes you wanted to hit him. Softly. With a pillow. “Shut up. I’m taking you.”

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

“How come I didn’t remember you have a driver's license?” Han smiles sheepishly.

The drive to his apartment is silent, as if you two were submerged in a no-conversation. No words, no nothing, just the sound of the tires against the asphalt and the yellow lights from the streetlights that lightened your way.

It’s late enough that there are little to no cars on the driveway. But weirdly, Jisung sips from his beer and sighs.

“Actually, could to take a left here?” He says softly, his voice surprisingly low.

“That’s not the way to your apartment, is it?” You ask, as softly as him, turning anyways.

“Nah, it’s this place I found and I wanted to show you.”

Alcohol doesn’t get easy to him —not from a beer, at least—, but he’s smiling like silly, and you can’t help but smile too.

You park where he tells you, and surely enough, there’s no one there. It’s a secluded, empty area, far from the center and high enough so that the city can be seen clearly.

“Think I left my jacket here last time I came.” He snickers, and you can’t help but chuckle. His hand travels to your knee and he squeezes it gently. “I’ll come back in just a second.”

One blink. Two blinks.

Hot fucking damn.

Your head falls against the steering wheel as soon as he closes the door.

Get your shit together.

Looking up, the car tells you it’s way past midnight. Your head tells you you’re crazy, your heart giggles at the fact, guilty as charged. Sighing, you raise your face enough to look at the stars. Only to find Jisung’s silhouette, now with a dark jacket on, waving at you as he stands in front of the car.

You’re blushing, but you wave haphazardly, smiling, and still frown when instead of getting back to his seat, Jisung goes and opens your door instead.

“Hey,” he giggles, and your grin matches with his.

“What are you doing?”

Jupiter can sometimes be seen from Earth, when the Sun’s light hits it just right and the night is dark. Still, its shimmer doesn’t compare to that of Jisung’s eyes when he rests his forearms on the car’s roof and bends down to your height. You haven’t moved, your own eyes fixated on how he licks his lips.

“I think I’m being stupid,” he chuckles. You’re a goner, not even noticing how his hand slides in for a moment and turns the headlights off, leaving you two only illuminated by the shy light in the car that indicates that the door is open and by the moonlight, who cheekily shines at the both of you.

Instead, you blink. Normally you just get him, just as he gets you, but you’re almost as lost as how you feel when you stare into his dark brown eyes.

“Stupid?” You smile lightly. “Why?”

At your tender tone, Jisung lets his head fall down, shyness getting the best of him. And yet the little alcohol he’s had boosts him back.

“I, uh, had a dream. Been having these dreams for like, a bit over a month,” he swallows dry, much like he did at the studio, and his eyes suddenly feel darker than before, maybe because his gaze stops avoiding yours for longer than a minute.

A meteor shower threatens to fall over your heart.

“You were there. And I was there, too.”

For someone who composes and uses words for a living, he was struggling a lot to piece together what he wanted to say.

“This… there was… this… feeling, like, inside of me. Here.”

Not only does he not use his hand, but he takes yours from the steering wheel and settles it over his chest. His heart.

You’re frozen. Completely out of it. Is it possible that maybe you fell asleep in the studio and that none of this is real? Could that be it, you wonder, until Jisung groans and leans his forehead against the roof of the car with a thud.

“I’m being an idiot, am I?” He snickers, with an undertone that lingers in something that resembles resignation. “I just- I saw you the other day, and I was… you were with Hyunjin, and I…” he clenches his fist, and he tries to back off, rubbing his face and passing them through his hair.

“No, Ji, wait.”

He chuckles breathlessly. “I made it awkward, right?”

“Ji.”

Your hand pulls him back closer by the zipper of his jacket, and only the crunchy-like sound of the gravel beneath him as he walks echoes through the night and follows how you move your hands toward his wrists. Towards his own hands, stopping him from picking on his nails further.

“Tell me, Ji,” you mumble. “What were you saying?”

His voice threatens to tremble before he speaks. His eyes don’t move from yours, and you think you’re completely out of your mind, just as much as he thinks of himself too.

“I keep having these dreams where I see you and the ache of wanting you swells up in me, like I’m on a raft that’s sinking and I just can’t even escape thinking about you when I sleep because I-”

He’s rambling, but with a sudden move from your side, he’s not anymore.

The cold of November doesn’t hit you when you stand up bluntly and you link your arms behind his neck and kiss him like you have been wanting to do for years.

His lips crash against yours like the sea crashes against the sharp rocks against the shore, even if the coast is much further away than you think, but you don’t mind, because you can’t think.

You’re kissing him. Finally.

You’re kissing Han Jisung.

And then, just a beat after what you’ve done —what you’re doing— sinks in, he reacts. His hands travel underneath your jacket and in the blink of an eye, he’s letting you push him against the car. No words, no nothing, only the scent of his cologne that suddenly fills you.

You tremble beneath him, and he pants.

He’s not blinking, his eyes glued to you. He can’t think either.

You should say something. What should you say? ‘Me too’? That’s lame. How come your brain can’t work when you most need it?

As if to answer your question, Han kisses you this time. Of course you can’t think, not when his hands travel underneath your clothes and he twists you in a way that somehow it’s your back against the car now. He’s not breathing, and neither are you, because you’re not kissing anymore, not when your lips can feel the teasing dent of his teeth nibbling on them and when the only thing you can taste is his tongue.

You’re not against the car anymore, because he closes the driver’s door with a kick and he opens the one to the backseats while he keeps kissing you.

Crazy. You’ve gotta be, because dreaming something as wild as this and for it to feel real, as real as it gets, as real as it could ever be, it has to mean you’re crazy. And you’d die on that hill if it means you get to keep dreaming how Jisung takes his newly-found jacket off and throws it to the front seat, in the same foreign path as where he throws his shirt, or how you two barely fit in the car and so he settles his knee between your legs to help you move back enough so that he can close the door.

And now you’re there. Alone together.

He gasps against your neck, as if he remembered that he had to keep breathing to live, and you don’t lose your opportunity, taking your sweater off and throwing it towards the trunk.

You lean your head back, the car feeling heavy with only the sounds of both him and you panting.

“I… fuck, I need you to tell me you want this.” Han swallows dry. “I need you to say it. Please. I want this too much.”

A meteor shower? Scratch that. This is a meteor storm.

“I think this is a dream, but still, I want you. Please.”

No words, no nothing, just the sound of the leather against your sweaty skin when you sit up straight and kiss Jisung like you mean it. It’s all nasty, teeth and tongue and a string of saliva that lingers when you break the kiss to fumble with his zipper.

“What if it is a dream,” you gasp, out of breath, out of control, completely and irrevocably out of it as your eyes stare at his. “I want you. Even if I wake up right now.”

Your shirt is discarded as fast —if not faster— than the rest of your clothes before.

“So if it is a dream, let’s keep going until we wake up.” You swallow dry too. “Until the stars can’t be seen.”

The kiss is like a heroin kick, although it is one that seems familiar. Or maybe it’s that your lips have become used to kissing his, considering that breathing has become a second priority with how raw is the need to consume him. A wave of pleasure takes claim inside of you with each caress of his tongue, with every touch of his fingers on your back, with every eager breath next to your jaw. He pulls you closer and moans with his mouth buried in your skin unfinished phrases that drive you crazy little by little —more than you already were.

“It may end right away,” Jisung says in a hoarse voice, clinging to one of the headrests that are closest to him. “But I’ll make it up to you. With my mouth. Or with my fingers. Or both. Yes, fuck...”

It’s a mix of quick and ruthless kisses, mouths open. Wet and urgent, almost in bites, as if you’d want to eat the other alive as he takes his pants off and helps you with yours, going down to kiss your neck.

“You’re so... f-fuck, ah...” he mumbles while he runs his tongue down your throat and to your collarbone. “I never want to wake up.”

His lips taste like the feeling that overcomes you when you look at the sky on a starry night. Emotion. Ecstasy. You want to drink it whole until there’s not a single drop left. Drink him.

Jisunh squeezes your ass, while your mouths are a mess, while he bites your lip and pulls it, smiling like a cheeky bitch, while your mouths fight for the control of the kiss and your tongue caresses his, and before you can piece together that the windows are foggy because of the two of you, he’s sliding inside, his hand lacing with yours.

God, you want to moan. Moan so loud. And so you do, because there’s nothing in this dream that could stop you.

And he moans, too, because you are like a dream come true.

Juno and Jupiter.

[🔺☆ 🚀 ☆🔺]

~kats, who accidentaly went full autism, space and mythology on the meaning of ‘juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

catiuskaa, november 2024 ©

314 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 1 year ago

Text

I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND ME

It's not surprising to me that Gojo's dying monologue he spent more time talking about his fight with Sukuna than any of his students. Gojo's priority from the beginning isn't to save Megumi but to fight all-out against a strong opponent, the line is: ""The Absolute Strong. The loneliness that follows. The one who will teach you about love is..."

This fight is basically the climax of Gojo's identity crisis which has been a long running issue for him throughout the manga. He's simultaneously a self-confident individualist with an overpowering sense of "ego" and a person with little idea of who he is outside of the role in society that was given to him. Gojo went into the fight looking for someone capable of understanding him, the fight is about Gojo seeking an answer to who he is, that's why he fights and that's why he loses.

Gojo is Not Normal

Nanami's statement is misinterpreted I think.

"You live for Jujutsu. You don't wield it to protect something. You use it solely for the sake of satisfying yourself."

A lot of people took this to mean that Goo didn't care about anyone but himself, even though Gojo directly contradicts this earlier.

"I love everyone and don't feel lonely snow, but somewhere along the way there was a line I drew, not as a human but as a living creature."

He states he does love other people, if only from afar, he just doesn't understand them. Gojo can't make other people his reason to fight, because he only understands himself. He only sees himself. He can only fight for what's inside himself.

"You can make a flower bloom, you can admire it, but you can't tell that flower 'I want you to understand me'

Gojo's students are the flowers. Itadori, Fushiguro and Nobara are all named after flowers. He's raising them up to be as strong as him, he's fond of them, but he doesn't think they relate to him because he exists in a different category of other people.

A lot of people want Gojo to be a more traditional caring mentor figure like Kakashi or Aizawa they're missing what's really interesting about his character. When Nanami says "Gojo only cares about being the strongest" it's true because his entire character is written around the statement "I am the strongest". He is conceptually about what it is like to be the strongest man in existence. That is the character concept, and Gojo's entire identity crisis revolves around that he's built up his personality around being the strongest at Jujutsu and nothing else.

Gojo can only fight for his own ego and self satisfaction as Nanami says, because he has nothing else, he has no identity outside of that.

However, before I get into why I want to point out that Gojo is not normal. It's not because someone on his power level is fundamentally incapable of relating to other people, but Gojo himself...is not right in the head. He's making an active decision to choose not to empathize with people whatsoever, it's not just that it's hard to understand him, it's that they can't understand him.

Gojo talks about his students like they're members of another species. They're flowers. They can't relate to him on a human level because he's something other than human. A friend had an interesting reading on why specifically it's flowers Gojo chose for his metaphor.

Plants are less sentient than insects, they don't contemplate anything they are just taken care of by their gardener and grow towards the sun. That's how differently he sees himself from others.

I wanted to include this take from @kaibutsushidousha as well.

Gojo's not from the planet mars he's a human who has human emotions and human psychology like everyone else, so that's simply not true, but Gojo believes it is and that belief influences how he interacts with everyone.

Gojo can't see himself reflected back in other people for some reasons that aren't his fault and some reasons that are. Gojo has been from birth, treated as different from everyone around him, not for anything he really did but because he was born with a really strong jujutsu ability. He's a literal chosen one. He always seen as the six eyes user, the strongest, before he was seen as a person. His entire life has been defined entirely by the abilities he was born with, he was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer so of course that's what he builds his entire identity around.

Not only is he told that he's categorically different from others, but he also believes it. We know little about his early childhood besides Gege's statements that he was spoiled, but we do see later on in childhood there are people who are willing to treat Gojo normally despite the position he has as the strongest. This is when it starts being Gojo's fault that he continues to see himself as different from other people.

Shoko, Gojo's closest confidante in his schooldays after Geto's days basically tells him that. She's been with him for years and yet he still has the audacity to act like he's all alone in the world. Even when people try to treat Gojo normally and relate to him on a personal level, Gojo actively ignores their presence in his life like he did Shoko because he's not only been told he's different from other people because he's stronger, but he believes it and he's built his entire world view around it.

This is why the only person that Gojo ever let in was Geto, because Gojo believed that Geto was someone who could stand on top with others. THe only person who could believe the strongest, or teach them about love was someone equally as strong. Gojo just happening to meet another sorcerer who was special class as a teenager not only allowed him to have a friend, but fit perfectly into his narrative that he was separate from others and only someone as strong as him could understand. There are people like Shoko and Nanami who treat Gojo normally despite the fact he's the strongest, but Geto was the only one Gojo met in because he met the qualifiaction of being someone equally as strong.

This isn't really the case for Geto. Geto comes to see weak people as inferior yes in the sense he sees Non-Jujutsu Sorcerers as inferior, but Geto is capable of making connections to other Jujutsu Sorcerer. Geto has his family, he has Nanako and Mimiko and the rest of his followers who he all cares about equally. Geto met all of them and chose to relate to them, he even tells Gojo after killing his biological parents that he's choosing who his real family is now.

"It wouldn't be fair if I made an exception for my parents, now would it? Besides my family now consists of more than just them."

Geto demonstrates someone as powerful as Geto can make a choice to relate to other people. It's shown in the way that Geto treats Nanako and Mimiko, he is their father and he raised them as his daughters. Compared to how Megumi is just a student to Gojo. Gojo's only invested in making Megumi into a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer, because Gojo doesn't fathom connecting to someone weaker than him. He's only their to raise up a strong sorcerer, whereas Geto who's capable of connecting with people in other ways is raising up Nanako and Mimiko and they're connected as parent and child.

Geto and Gojo are similiar in a lot of ways, same level of strength comapred to the rest of humanity, same god complex (and yes it is a god coplex, there's a reason the two people Gojo relates to are Geto who has constant religious imagery associated with him and Sukuna who's literally satan) and yet Geto shows someone roughly Gojo's power level can make connections to others Gojo just chooses not to.

This is where I'm stealing from a friend's post a bit. @theanimepsychologist points out that Geto notices the beginnings of Gojo's identity complex soon after it started with Toji.

I always thought of the panel above as Geto being jealous of Gojo surpassing him in strength but, in retrospect, I think Geto’s disappointment had more to do with Gojo’s sense of self over-identifying with the title “the strongest” and how that made him harder to relate to, which is one of the main themes in this chapter. I’ll come back to this in a sec. But first… Quick depth psych segway. I think I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating again that an overwhelming sense of self is all ego. There’s nothing wrong with ego per se. The problem is that an over-identification with ego means inherent separateness because, as an organ of the psyche, the ego sense of self is what gives us a separate identity from the collective.

Geto notices that Gojo is drawing a line between himself and other people, and pulling away because of that because people in the second category of weak can't possibly understand the strong and he's reacting to it. Geto is also the only person to underline to Gojo himself that he's unsure about his own identity.

Gojo knows he's the strongest, but he doesn't know anything about himself besides that, or even what being the strongest entails in his relation to other people. He's never constructed an identity outside of it in part because he's never had to, nobody has ever challenged him for his title as the strongest, and he also fits jujutsu society's mould perfectly. He's perfect at what he does, why would he need to change? Why would a person who reached enlightenment at seventeen need to reflect upon himself or figure out who he is? You can't really become more enlightened.

The other reason he's never constructed an identity is he's never interacted with anyone on equal terms. Metaphorically Gojo exists in a vacuum of human interaction. How appropriate is it in a way that he was sealed in a box where time didn't move completely alone for who knows how long, because that's kind of just how Gojo sees himself in relation to the rest of the world.

As Psycho points out an unregulated ego results in an inherent separateness from the collective. People don't exist in a vacuum however. We wouldn't know who we are if we were entirely alone. We are defined just as much as ourselves, as we are by our interaction with others.

Ich and Du, translated as I and Thou is a book by philosopher Martin Buber. His two main porositions is that we may address existence in two ways:

The attitude of the "I" towards "it" towards an object that is separate in itself, which we either use or experience.

The attitude of "I" towards "Thou" in a relationship in which the other is not separated by discrete bounds.

I -> It is the world of sensations. If I am looking at a chair, I say "This is a chair. This chair is an eyesore." I am seeing the chair. I don't relate to the chair.

I -> Thou can be used to refer to a relationship between human beings. You don't experience the human being., you can only relate to them and what that relationship means to you. He goes on further to say that love requires a subject -> subject relationship. To love someone means you have to relate to them as if they are another being, you can't love an object.

He's a philosopher to put forward that it's human's connections with each other and their ability to relate to each other that brings meaning to life. Gojo in Buber's terms is only experiencing the world around him, not relating to it. How appropriate of someone with the six-eyes, an ability that gives him sight far better than anyone else to see himself as only an observer to the outside world, like a floating pair of eyes.

The choice that Gojo makes not to relate to other human beings on an equal level, not only isolates him, it affects his sense of self. People cannot exist within a background. Gojo's like a vampire who can't see his own reflection. ? It's all because of this caveat that Gojo himself has set up that no one can possibly relate to him unless they were equally as powerful as him that he can't see himself in others. He can't see himself in others, he can't find anyone to help him understand himself, and therefore his identity crisis goes unresolved.

Twitter user @ det_critics pointed this out that the question: "Take away his strength and what is he?" isn't one Gojo has an answer for, and one he's actively been running from.

As I said Gojo literally doesn't have a reflection, we see that in story when the prison realm opens its eye and it's just a void where Gojo's face is supposed to be. Gojo choosing not to think of himself as the strongest is also a choice not to think about who he'd be if he wasn't. A question he evades over and over again by telling himself that he can't be understood by people who are weak b/c he categorically exists on a different plane of reality.

When he does look for an answer it's telling just how not normal Gojo is in who he chooses to empathize with: which is Sukuna.

This is who Gojo as chosen to be the only other person besides Gojo he felt he could relate to. The same person who monologues about weak people like this.

The same person who monologues that weak people shouldn't even be alive, they should be culled. Sukuna sees weak people as insects. Gojo sees them as plants.

The first person that Gojo relates to as a subject rather than an object Geto is cut short, the next person he relates to as a subject is Sukuna of all people. He chooses to see himself in Sukuna, because Sukuna validates that incorrect idea Gojo has that someone as powerful as him could never possibly be understood by other people. After all, Sukuna the strongest sorcerer of all time isn't even really human anymore, he's a curse a calamity. For Gojo who doesn't see himself as relatable to other human beings this is validation of that mistaken notion.

It's also telling of how much Gojo's own identity issues have warped him that he finds a curse personally relatable, and even pitiable because it's lonely. Sukuna, who's main problem is that he's bored because a life of killing people is unfulfilling and it's turned him into an adrenline junkie. This is who Gojo's personally chosen to relate to because they both only see the world in the category of "the strong" and "the weak."

Gojo's viewpoint of other people is mistaken for several reasons, but one interesting one was pointed out for me by Psycho. He refers to his students as flowers, but they're lotus flowers. Lotus flowers mean many things, but they're seen as symbols of purity because they rise up from the mud. Gojo is only looking at the flowers, not the mud they rise from .

"No mud, no lotus. The mud is what makes us who we are, and no one can 100% understand what wading through the mud feels like. I think people see oh shiny lotus, the outcome of wading through the mud but they overlook the self because we live in an outcome oriented society.

Gojo is someone who doesn't see the mud and therefore doesn't relate to the personal struggles of others. Which sabotages a lot of his personal relationships. Which like, to bring Megumi into this, Megumi is proof that Gojo IS NOT NORMAL.

Megumi is the kind of special genius that Gojo is, he's born with the strongest technique one capable of killing Gojo, but he doesn't become a special class at seventeen like Gojo, nor is he interested in doing that because Megumi is an entirely different person with differnt personal struggles than Gojo. He has all the raw potenital that Gojo does, but they have wildly different upbringings. Gojo was primed for success by being the spoiled child of his clan, while Megumi is an abandoned child. It proves again Gojo's maxim of people who have that much power are inhuman and don't follow human psychology is wrong because Megumi has all the potential to be as strong as Gojo, but he's just a normal kid. Megumi is still wading through the mud and Gojo doesn't see that.

GOJO IS NORMAL

Jujutsu Kaisen seems to be following Buber's logic on how identity is defined by the interactions we have with other people, because there was a period in Gojo's life where he did create an identity outside of being a sorcerer and that's when he was Geto's friend.

In the afterlife we even see him regressing to that previous state of being. There was a period for three years in his life that Gojo was something besides being the strongest, and that was when he was Geto's friend too. If Jujutsu Kaisen is about how identity and meaning are both constructed from the interactions we have with other people (subject -> subject) interactions then it's telling that Gojo reverts to his seventeen year old self because that was the first and only time in his life he was capable of relating to another person, and acted like a fully developed person outside of the role of sorcerer he was born to play.

If identities are constructed though that means they're not inherent. Gojo is not inherently the strongest, just as he's not inherently different from other people. This is different from what Gojo's been told his entire life. He was born the strongest. It's inherent to his identity, a fundamental part of who he is. Therefore people who are strong are inherently different from those who are weak, it's something internally different about them which makes it impossible for Gojo to comprehend the motivations of weak people.

Rather than just strong and weak being constructed categories. Gojo's the strongest at Jujutsu but if you took him outside of Jujutsu and asked him to work any other job he'd no longer be the strongest. He's only the strongest as long as he remains in his fish bowl that is Jujutsu Society. However, Gojo believes differently, he believes being the strongest is what he is, it's something inside of him, and something that makes him fundamentally different from others. This is the line that Gojo has been told due to being born with the six-eyes and this is what Gojo has bought.

This is also what his ability the limitless symbolizes, no one in this world can touch him or reach him, he exists somewhere else. However, the limitless can be breached and Gojo has been shown before there are others capable of touching him.

Toji is the first and only living human being to challenge him, until Sukuna comes along. However, Toji does arguably more in story than just give Gojo a good fight. Toji full on traumatized him, soemthing which Gojo refuses to acknowledge. Toji is the beginning of the end of Geto's friendship, the death of Amanai Riko sends Geto on a spiral for an entire years, and drives a wedge between Geto and Gojo's friendship when Geto self isolates and Gojo doesn't know what's wrong with his friend.

Gojo also experiences what it's like to be defeated for the first time in his life, and his response is to perfect the limitless so he runs it constantly all the time. Remember, before that he was exhausting it doing it for three days in a row, and when Geto told him to take a break Gojo reassured him he wasn't worried because he knew Geto had his back. Gojo was someone who could let down the limitless before that, but afterwards Gojo always insists on fighting alone with his shields up all the time. All to deny that feeling of vulnerability that Toji inflicted on him for the first time in his life, something he remembers years later, you know like trauma.

There are times when Gojo is reminded that it's possible he's the same as anyone else, he can experience human weakness. Geto's fall is another time, one post says it's particularly challenging for Gojo to comprehend why Geto would defect because he saw Gojo and himself as above others and therefore immune to human weakness.

gojou 100% has a god complex and thats why getous downfall hit him harder than anyone else. he saw himself and getou as above everyone else and exempt from ‘regular’ peoples flaws, he never thought either of them could be led astray and when getou finally snaps hes bewildered that something like that could ever happen to either of them. hes not just heartbroken over his best friend becoming an enemy, hes thrown for a loop because getou, the one person he thinks of as just as above everyone else and incapable of failing as he is, could ever do something wrong, could ever be wrong. hes finally put into a position where he has to face the fact that hes just as capable of screwing up as anyone else and he can’t make sense of it. gojous hesitance in killing getou isn’t just a byproduct of their friendship, it’s also him realizing that it could have easily been him on the other side of the conflict, which breaks the illusion of him being better than everyone for a second. and like that’s still not enough for him to reject this idea, personally i think that his comment about him and getou being 'the strongest’ in volume 0 is indicative of the fact that despite everything he still hasn’t grown out of this delusion.

Gojo has trauma, because he's a human being with human psychology. He makes mistakes, he has terrible past regrets like his friendship with Geto gone wrong, but he doesn't acknowledge those things because as stated above Gojo thinks he's immune to having regular people flaws. Gojo seeing himself in another category from regular human beings also allows himself to deny an vulnerability, because the strongest isn't supposed to have weaknesses. Seeing yourself as too distant to ever be touched by others also means they can never hurt you, emotionally or otherwise, an extreme form of the hedgehog's dilemna which is explored an Neon Gengesis Evangelion, an existentialist piece Gege takes obvious inspiration from.

The fact that he avoids other human beings, not because he's fundamentally incapable of understanding them but because he's distancing himself from human feelings like loss, pain, suffering these weaknesses that are part of the human experience just proves he's the same as everyone else. If he wasn't capable of feeling those things he wouldn't avoid it, he wouldn't spend ten years mourning Suguru but not killing him directly until he was forced to on December 24th, he wouldn't be trapped by the box because seeing Geto alive made him have a three minute long trauma flashback.

Gojo is a normal human, with normal human emotions and human psychology, albeit twisted from the power he was born with and his unique viewpoint of the world but he doesn't believe that he is. He uses that as an excuse not to interact with others and because of this his identity suffers. Gojo is someone defined by how limited he is in the story despite having limited power.

Gojo fails as much in the story as he succeeds. As my friend @justapanda put it.

"But, it loos like being strong isn't enough..." Another point could also be made here that, regardless of being the strongest at this point, Gojo was incapable of stopping his closest friend from straying down a dark path, which is perhaps Gojo’s greatest failing in the series. This failure also comes back to bite him much later on as Kenjaku’s ace in the hole to finally checkmate Gojo involved surprising him with the now possessed body of Geto, which distracted Gojo long enough for him to be successfully sealed by the prison realm. Once again, the vast amount of power that Gojo had attained turned out to be completely useless in preventing his own sealing, which has now placed him in an inactive role for over half of Jujutsu Kaisen’s duration. Earlier in the story, Gojo once said: “Ironic, isn’t it? Given everything, but unable to do anything.” when referring to the function of his own domain. This was another intentional use of foreshadowing to describe the dilemma that Gojo was inevitably going to face himself. Satoru Gojo is no limitless man, for no one man is without his limits." Another point could also be made here that, regardless of being the strongest at this point, Gojo was incapable of stopping his closest friend from straying down a dark path, which is perhaps Gojo’s greatest failing in the series. This failure also comes back to bite him much later on as Kenjaku’s ace in the hole to finally checkmate Gojo involved surprising him with the now possessed body of Geto, which distracted Gojo long enough for him to be successfully sealed by the prison realm. Once again, the vast amount of power that Gojo had attained turned out to be completely useless in preventing his own sealing, which has now placed him in an inactive role for over half of Jujutsu Kaisen’s duration. Earlier in the story, Gojo once said: “Ironic, isn’t it? Given everything, but unable to do anything.” when referring to the function of his own domain. This was another intentional use of foreshadowing to describe the dilemma that Gojo was inevitably going to face himself. Satoru Gojo is no limitless man, for no one man is without his limits.

Gojo has moments where he brushes up against the idea that he's not capable of doing everything, that he has faults and fails like every other human being. However, that feeling never really lasts for long. He always tends to double down on his belief that he's the strongest rather than facing his faults because that's where he's comfortable. Gojo can't see himself reflected in other people and therefore is not capable of reflecting and critically evaluating his faults. Not only that but avoiding looking too critically at those losses, he also stops himself from feeling the pain of those losses and denies that vulnerability.

Gojo exists on another plane from other human beings, and therefore why would he experience human sadness and pain? All he feels is a vague sense of loneliness and unfulfillment because he's been so alienated from his own emotions and in Gojo's mind that's better than struggling with weakness. Who would deliberately choose to be just like everyone else when you can be special? Why get close to others when the hedgehog's spines are just going to stab you? However, people form connections because of their weaknesses. Humans cooperate with each other because they are a social species. All of society exists because people divide labor and help each other out. Even Gojo can't say there's no point in his life where he was weak, because he was cared for as a child and raised in a family. He didn't come out of the womb a fully formed individual. The darwinian survival of the fittest, and the black and white strong vs. weak way that Gojo sees the world just doesn't exist, especially in modern society. There's nothing wrong with individualism, but the extreme end of individualism is wrong because no one exists in this world alone you share it with everyone else.

Gojo doesn't even see that though, because he's not living in the same world as everyone else. In his mind the limitless makes it so he basically exists on another plane of reality, but again the limitless can be breached.

Detective critics basically said that Gojo's delusion was always a false one, he always existed in the same world as everyone else, he simply deluded himself into believing otherwise. There are reasons for this, his upbringing, trauma and not wanting to face the pain of that trauma, but it's still a choice he made. Gojo didn't want to live for other people, he didn't want to relate for them, so he lived for himself pursuing his own strength. Ironically, it reflects Toji's own decision to take pride in neither himself or others and live only for the sake of showing that the Jujutsu World that rejected him was wrong.

Toji chose to live a life where he only lived to fight and prove he was stronger than the sorcerers who rejected him. He chose it over his own son Megumi, abandoning him in order to continue his lifestyle as a mercenary. He even chose it over continuing to live because he stayed and fought against Gojo to prove he was stronger than the pinnacle of Jujutsu. Toji lives for strength, and he is someone even Gojo respected the strength of, but what else does he have?

Toji's identity is unstable, he doesn't really live for any purpose, he kills people then blows the money gambling, he jumps from women to women to mooch off of them, he's also mentally unstable as well he shoots a little girl in the back of the head and feels nothing. The instability comes from his isolation, Toji is rejected by everyone the same way that Gojo is lauded by everyone. But Toji goes on step further in that he fails to construct any identity outside of being rejected and his entire life is spent rejecting the people who rejected him. Why does Toji want to be strong, he doesn't know. Purpose is something you have to construct for yourself, because there's no inherent meaning to life. Identity is something that's constructed by both yourself and your interactions with others because people aren't born inherently one thing or the other.

Gojo and Toji just refuse to do this, and only focus on themselves and the goal of being stronger. In Gojo's case I'd argue he doesn't fight for other people because he doesn't feel that connection with other people or rather he doesn't let himself. Hedgehog's dilemna to the extreme. Gojo only fighting for himself isn't Nanami calling him a selfish person who doesn't care about others, it's sad because Gojo never found any other reason to fight or meaning to his life but by getting stronger for its own sake.

Gojo only fights for the sake of satisfying himself, but here's the clincher, he's unsatisfied. Not only did he fail in his goal of giving Sukuna the fight of his life, because he knew Sukuna was holding back on him, but also admits to Geto that what would have really been satisfying is if Geto was there with him to pat him on the back.

He's failed on both fronts, he's failed at being the strongest and he's failed at making a connection to the people in his life. Gojo and Toji die in pretty much the same way, they die standing up in the middle of battle, but their last thoughts aren't of disappointment that they lost but their loved ones.

They spent their entire lives believing they were stronger and therefore different than others, and fighting to satisfy their ego and what does it amount to? Toji lived a life of hedonism and then died abandoning the one person he genuinely loved. Gojo has failed his stated goal of revolutionizing Jujutsu Society and dies before he can see whether or not his dream of a reset Jujutsu World will even come to fruition.

They belived they were someone stronger and therefore inherently better, and are put in their place when someone stronger comes along. They die just like all the other mortals. They believed they were alone so they died alone. It's sad and it goes to show how destructive being "the strongest" was to Gojo's identity in the end. Gojo thinks he's Sukuna but Gojo doesn't want to be Sukuna, because Sukuna's alone, and unlike Gojo you could make the point that Sukuna's not a human being who has human emotions because he's a curse. If Gojo was truly someone who could understand Sukuna he would have been truly alone the same way Sukuna is, and that's not what he wanted.

It's too bad Gojo never thought seriously about what he wanted, and therefore learned his lesson too late. He was always looking for someone he could relate to, except for in the people who were right in front of him.

#gojo satoru #jjk meta #satosugu #geto suguru #ryomen sukuna #jjk 236 #jjk 236 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 spoilers #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta

1K notes · View notes

ryuzakistoe · 3 months ago

Text

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro

163 notes · View notes

the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

summary: working in a coffee shop means you always meet a wide variety of personalities; but why, out of all options, did you have to go and take an interest in the mysterious guy with an attitude problem?

pairing: piercer! scara x gn barista! reader

warnings: uhh needles (obviously), cursing like once, reader has questionable nicknaming skills (they're worse than paimon's)

modern au series || genshin impact masterlist

It was a typical Monday morning in the coffee shop you were working at, most customers seemingly dragging themselves in after rolling out of bed with the occasional energy ball as an exception. The aroma of roasted coffee beans filled your nose as you worked on several orders and people entered or left the store at a steady rate.

Once rush hour was pretty much over, the doorbell chimed again to reveal a guy with a dark and choppy bob cut you were sure not many people could pull off. The black clothes draped over his silhouette were deliberately torn at some places and a black mask covered the rest of his face except for striking indigo eyes and two gleaming dermal piercings peeking out from under the fabric on his right cheek.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” you greeted, the expected smile already on your lips.

Without so much as a greeting, he said in a monotone voice, “A large black coffee to go.”

Wow, quite the attitude but then again, it was Monday morning and you had seen worse. So, not thinking too much about it, you continued as normal. “May I ask for your name?”

“Huh?”

“To write on your cup, so we can call you when your order is ready to be picked up,” you patiently explained.

In a tone that suggested the guy was bored out of his mind, he merely drawled a “Just write whatever” and went back to scrolling on his phone.

It was a good thing you weren’t holding a cup yet or you might have crumbled it. So much for giving him the benefit of the doubt. Your eyes narrowed as your smile and voice took on an almost unnoticeable edge. “Sure thing,” you replied in a sweet tone before telling him his total.

A few minutes passed after you gave the guy’s order to your coworker who sniggered as you handed them the receipt. While taking more orders, you were keenly aware of that indigo-eyed jerk’s presence lingering by one of the windows, back leaning against the wall and ringed fingers reflecting the morning sun.

Setting a cup down on the counter, your coworker called out “A large black coffee to go for ‘Whatever’!”

At the unusual call, a few other customers turned to see what was happening and the guy himself seemed taken aback for a short second before collecting himself. As he walked up to the counter, he threw you an unimpressed glare which you returned with an innocent shrug.

Despite his grumpy attitude, the guy kept coming back for the next couple of weeks to the point where you could pinpoint the exact time he’d walk through that door, always ordering a large black coffee. He’d yet to give you his name, so when you went to prepare his coffee ahead of time, you continued to write ‘Whatever’ on it.

It might have been your imagination, but you thought Bob-Cut seemed to mellow out more too as he kept coming back and you built somewhat of a routine. He’d actually use words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ which you didn’t think possible the first time you met him. And, much to your chagrin, you had to admit the nonchalant attitude paired with his style and accessories suited him really well and you sometimes had trouble tearing your gaze away from deep pools of lapis. Not that you’d ever make it known to his face though.

Slowly but surely, you started looking forward to seeing him everyday too. Remembering you’d get to see the mysterious - yet cute- guy walk in again made you positively giddy with excitement as you got ready in the morning.

Yet this particular day your enthusiasm was stumped as the prepared cup of black coffee sat lonely behind the counter, waiting to be picked up. But he never came, no matter how often you expectantly looked up as the bell jingled. Your coworker patted you on the back encouragingly and you dragged yourself through your shift, a sunken feeling settling in your chest.

The next day, no coffee sat premade on the counter while you worked on orders. With your back turned to the door you almost didn’t notice it swing open. A gruff ‘Morning’ made your eyes light up before you composed yourself and turned to face the strongest resting bitch face ever.

“Good morning, what would you like to order?” You smiled, deciding to play coy although you already knew the answer.

And that was actually the look he gave you; eyes narrowed unimpressed and brow twitching upwards. “Seriously, I don’t come in for a day and you've already forgotten me. That’s a bit harsh, no?”

“Well you never know,” you shrugged playfully. “Maybe you had a change of heart as your coffee was all alone yesterday.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. He had nothing to apologise for in your opinion but it was cute anyway. “A client cancelled their appointment on short notice and my coworkers had all the other clients handled, so I didn’t come to the studio in the morning.”

The guy must’ve caught on to the curiosity visible on your face because he followed it up with “I’m a piercer and tattoo artist.”

“Oh wow, really?” you said, remembering your own plans to get a new piercing somewhen soon. Since your last piercer had closed their shop, you had kind of pushed that thought to the back of your mind though. Suddenly you were very much aware again of the ink peeking over the neck of his shirt and the piercings gleaming in the shop light “Where do you work?”

“In the studio down the road. If you don’t believe me, you should drop by,” he challenged defensively, although you didn’t doubt him at all. Realising what he just said, his eyes widened in the first big show of emotion you’d seen from him and you thought you could see a faint rosy tint where his mask ended. “No, I mean– Forget I said anything!”

For the rest of the interaction, the guy kept his head down, bangs obscuring his eyes which never quite met yours. It was cute seeing someone who acted so aloof usually be all shy and bashful and you tugged the info about his workplace away for later. To be precise, for the coming weekend.

On your day off, you found yourself in front of the glass door of a tattoo shop. The pleasant scent of flowers from the shop next to it filled the air as you took a deep breath before you pulled the handle towards you. You chastised yourself for being giddy and letting your hopes get the better of you; for all you know, he might not even work today. Or what if he really didn’t want you here?

Your nerves were forgotten when you entered the studio. Along the walls of the modern entrance area hung a variety of different sketches, distinct both in style and motif. From fine-line flowers to precise geometrics to calligraphy and Japanese style tattoos, you wondered just how many coworkers Bob-Cut had and which sketches were his as you studied the signatures.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” You spun around to face an auburn haired man who had appeared behind the counter, his olive eyes twinkling at your reaction.

“Oh uhm, I wanted to get a new piercing. That’s fine without a scheduled appointment, right?”

“Sure, thing. Just fill out these documents here and tell me what piercing you want and I’ll hook you up with someone who’s not working right now,” he smiled brightly, yet you had the strange sense that mischief was bubbling just underneath the surface.

“Actually,” you couldn’t believe you were about to say this out loud, “is there a piercer working here with an indigo bob cut and two piercings on his cheek?”

“Oh?” And there it was, that teasing lilt in his voice which raised the hairs in the back of your neck. “Yo, ‘mouchie, there’s a cutie here to see you!”

A mere few seconds after his shout reverberated down the short hallway behind the desk, steps could be heard as a familiar raspy voice answered. “If you call me that again, I’ll fucking ki– What are YOU doing here?!”

“Oh, so you really do know each other,” Olive-Eyes snickered.

Deciding to ignore him, you tilted your head at the accusatory finger still pointed in your direction. “You invited me, remember?”

“I told you to forget it!”

“Well, too bad you’re not my boss and I can do what I want,” you snipped. “Besides, I wanted a new piercing anyway, so I decided to come here. Where’s the problem with that?”

The sound of your bickering lured in two more onlookers, a guy with dark blue hair tied into two braids to frame his face and one guy with his teal hair tied into a messy ponytail, who was staring down at his phone as if it was way more interesting than his colleagues.

“What am I hearing? Scara inviting someone over?” The braid-guy sing songed. He mimicked wiping a tear from his eye dramatically. “That I can still witness the day… They grow up so fast.”

“Go to hell, all of you,” ‘Scara’ seethed.

“Alright, see you there.” Teal-Bangs didn’t even look up from his phone, the quip rolling off his tongue as naturally as breathing.

“Wow, even Xiao is bullying you now,” Olive-Eyes chimed in.

Dual-Braids laughed, slinging an arm around Bob-Cut’s shoulders and you feared he might bite it off given the glare he was sending his coworker. “You should really stop hitting him with the newspaper, you know?”

“Uh, guys…?” you interjected before they could start squabbling again. “About that piercing…?”

“Oh right!” The auburn-haired man took the documents from you and gave you a wide smile. “As I said, a piercer who’s free will take care of that aaaaaand would you look at that! Scara happens to be free, so he’ll have the honour of giving you a cool new accessory!”

“Hey, I-” Your coffee shop acquaintance tried to protest but Heizou was already ushering you in his direction.

“Now, go have fun, you two,” he teased. “But not too much, okay?

That was how you found yourself standing in a neat piercing room, bright white light illuminating the equipment stashed there. There was a sigh behind you and ‘Scara’ crossed the room.

“They’re such nuisances,” he mumbled before he fixed his indigo eyes on you. Without his black mask on, you could see that besides the two dermal piercings on his right cheek he also had a nostril on the left side of his nose. As he spoke up again, a silver ball sitting on his tongue reflected the crisp light. “You’re okay with that? I mean, me being your piercer and all. Heizou didn’t give you much of a choice but just know that you can back out if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine by me, if you’re okay with it too,” you sincerely replied. “I mean you were pressured into it just as much.”

“I’m used to their antics though.” After a brief moment of gazing at each other, he cleared his throat and gestured for you to take a seat. “So, what kind of piercing do you want?”

You watched him pull on a pair of black latex gloves and only when he looked back at you did the question register in your brain. “A helix, here,” you said, pointing at your ear.

“Sure thing.” Rolling closer on a chair, he marked the spot you indicated and handed you a mirror. “Like that?”

When you gave your approval, he went back to the desk to prepare the necessary equipment and sterilised it. The silence prompted you to ask the question that has been burning on your tongue for a while now. “So your name is Scara?”

“Scaramouche is my artist name, I’m going by that,” he replied. “But Scara is fine.”

You didn’t have much time to wonder about the implications of using an artist name because a moment later, Scara appeared in front of you again. Needle in hand, his eyes came level with yours again. Up close, you could make out all the tiny specks of amethyst caught in the light and his scent invaded your senses.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his low voice preserving the delicate atmosphere your proximity created. When you nodded, he gave you a small smirk, demeanour entirely changed from how you’d gotten to know him. “Alright, this is going to hurt a little but the pain will be brief. I need you to hold still through it, can you do that for me?”

Not trusting your voice, you nodded again as you swallowed. Latex met the side of your jaw in a ghost of a touch as Scara gently tilted your head the way he needed it. All nerve endings in your skin lit up as liquid fire spread from the tips of his fingers through your veins, the strange intimacy getting to you more than you could have prepared for.

You felt the Scara’s exhale brush your cheek as he positioned the needle and your warbled thoughts caught up with the situation the moment he pushed it through. But only when the jewellery followed did you flinch.

“There we go, the worst part is done,” he soothed. Giving the mirror back to you, he left you to admire his work as he got up. The calm call of your name pulled you from your own reflection as Scara held out a glass of water to you.

“Thanks,” you smiled before pausing. “Wait, did I even tell you my name?”

“Read it on your file,” he replied nonchalantly as you gave him an unimpressed glance.

“I’m sure that falls under poor etiquette,” you playfully chastised him.

“So? The outcome is the same, isn’t it?” he shrugged, yet you couldn’t help but find it endearing. “You good to go? C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.”

As you wrapped up the payment and Scara went over all the mandatory steps in taking care of your new piercing, you were well aware of the doors opening and the people peeping into your conversation. So much for privacy.

“Well then, that’s that.” The metal of his tongue piercing held your attention until Scara brushed some of his hair behind his ear, revealing a few piercings of his own. Among them was a helix which mirrored yours in placement. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“I will, thanks.” Your smile was filled with genuine gratitude. As you pushed through the glass door, you turned back to wave. “See you tomorrow!”

Maybe it was your imagination but as you left you thought there was an actual smile gracing his sharp features.

The next day, your spirits were high as they could be. Not only were you excited to show off your new accessory, you’d also been on cloud nine since leaving the piercing studio, butterflies stirring in your stomach every time you thought back to how he touched you. Perhaps what you were about to do was a little bold but you’d be damned if you didn’t shoot your shot.

As expected, Scara came in at the same time as every morning and you’d just finished brewing his coffee. He too seemed to be in a better mood than usual as he walked up to the counter. While you typed in his order, you made a bit of small talk over how your piercing was healing.

“It’s all good,” you laughed and showed the jewellery to him. “Almost like my piercer knew what he was doing.”

“You better believe that,” he countered. However, you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemingly lit up and crinkled at the edges, as they did when he smirked, when his gaze fell onto the piercing he put on you. His reaction gave you a boost of confidence for what you were about to do.

Handing him his cup, you wished him a great day and watched as he went to leave before stopping dead in his tracks. No doubt he discovered the little ‘If you ever feel like going for a coffee while I’m not working ♡ (and don’t whatever me!)’ you had scribbled onto the cup holder, followed by your phone number. You gave him a wink when he searched your eyes and watched him pull out his phone. A few seconds later your phone pinged.

Unknown number: whatever Unknown number: are you free this week?

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#┊holly’s modern au ✩彡 #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #scara x reader #scara fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #genshin modern au

2K notes · View notes

valkyrieromanoff · 6 months ago

Text

5 times you innocently sat on Hunter's lap (plus 1 you didn't)

warning: sexual content in the last part, most of it is just fluffy.

words: 3k

a/n: I hadn't written anything for a long time, but then this idea popped into my head and I couldn't help but try. I also posted it on ao3, I hope you like it ;)

1) Sitting on his lap when playing with his hair

Your fingers were entangled in Hunter's locks, gently playing with his hair. Seated on his lap, you had the perfect reach to those exact spots that brought him tranquility. His once tense muscles began to melt under the tender dance of your fingers across his scalp.

With a soft sigh, Hunter rested his head against your chest, the sound a low hum of satisfaction. As your fingers reached the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratched the sensitive spot before massaging it lightly.

Your touch was as light as a feather and as warm as the morning sun, leaving him utterly at ease. His hands rested lazily on your waist, a secure yet relaxed grip. His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed to a quiet, rhythmic pace as he relished the gentle movement of your fingers through his hair.

He loved it when your hands were on him, even cherishing the playful times you joined Omega in braiding his hair when he dozed off on the sofa. In this moment, surrounded by the comfort and shared affection, he felt completely at peace.

2) Being in a room with no other chairs for you to sit on, so you sit in his lap

As a Jedi—if you could still call yourself one, having been only a Padawan when Order 66 struck—you never fully grasped the endless parties and celebrations that inundated the island. It left you wondering whether the residents of Pabu were extraordinarily festive, or if you were simply old-fashioned. Yet, when your gaze met Hunter’s, you allowed yourself to relax. The long-haired clone, bound by his characteristic red bandana, seemed almost as out of place as you.

He had sought refuge from the crowd, sitting on a wooden chair that faced the beach directly. The moon kissed the sea in an almost ethereal vision, the sound of waves dissolving into foam on the shore working wonders to drown out the loud music, laughter, and animated conversations of hundreds celebrating the arrival of summer.

“Running away from fun?” Hunter’s deep voice rang out on the night breeze, breaking your reverie. You hadn’t realized you were staring. Nothing went unnoticed by him, you reminded yourself, taking a step toward him. Your attempts at walking were more like stumbling, brief steps in a straight line due to the ridiculously high heels you’d borrowed from Phee, who insisted they’d go perfectly with your outfit.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten used to the concept yet—drinking, dancing, and celebrating for no reason. It’s different from what I’m used to,” you reflected thoughtfully, your eyes lost in the starry night as fireworks ripped across the horizon, exploding in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. You shifted uncomfortably, transferring your weight between your feet, having lost count of how many times your heels had sunk into the sand.

“Your ankle is swollen. You need to sit down if you don’t want it to become a dislocation,” Hunter pointed out, his voice serious yet filled with care.

“I’m not in the mood to sit on the sand,” you muttered softly.

Hunter snorted affectionately, pulling you by the wrist to sit sideways on his lap. “That’s not what I suggested,” he retorted, gently undoing the buckle of your high heels. The relief was immediate; kriffing, how you hated those heels. He repeated the gentle motion on your other foot, his fingers searching for any signs of swelling or twisting.

“You shouldn’t wear heels, mesh'la, if you can’t walk in them,” Hunter mused casually. You responded with a dramatic snort that soon turned into a sigh as he began to massage your feet tenderly, releasing the built-up tension.

As the moonlight danced on the waves and the fireworks painted the sky, you felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and belonging in Hunter’s arms. The world around you faded, leaving only the soothing rhythm of the sea and the warmth of his touch. In this serene moment, you both found solace in each other, embracing the rare peace and simple joys that life on Pabu offered.

3) Sitting on his lap while you softly apply lotion

"You know, just applying sunscreen would have avoided this," you pondered calmly, opening the bottle of moisturizer. You poured some into your hand and began gently spreading it over Hunter's sunburned face. With each leg on either side of his lap as he sat patiently.

He let out a deep sigh at the sensation of the cool lotion meeting his warm,a natural response to his sunburn from a day at the beach. He had spent the entire day, diligently watching over Omega as she played in the shallow waves, his concern for her safety overriding his need for self-care. Hunter's heart nearly stopped with Wrecker's antics of tossing Omega into the water, despite Omega's giggles of delight.

The memory of falling asleep only to be buried in the sand by Crosshair and Omega, leaving just his head exposed, surfaced with a mix of amusement and regret. The sun in Pabu had been exceptionally harsh that morning, intensifying the burn on his face.

“Uhm,” Hunter huffed dramatically as your fingers carefully spread the moisturizer over his skin. The soothing aloe vera brought immediate relief, cooling the fiery sensation on his face. You smiled gently at him, a pang of sympathy in your heart. He had been so focused on protecting Omega — even buying her a giant hat that nearly her view of her feet— that he had neglected his own needs.

"Don't worry, darling, I'll take care of you," you assured him softly, giving his nose a gentle kiss, careful not to cause any more pain than the sun already had. Hunter sighed deeply under your tender care, a profound sense of love and relaxation.

In your attentive hands, he felt cherished, his discomfort melting away as he basked in the warmth of your affection.

4) Take a seat on his lap as you read something from your datapad.

It was dusk in Pabu, the sun setting in a symphony of colors—yellow, orange, and red—tinting the sky like a masterful painting. The soft, calm sound of waves breaking on the long stretch of sand surrounding the island, accompanied by the fresh, salty scent of the sea breeze, painted a picture of serene domesticity. This tranquility and warmth, a solid change from his days as a soldier, filled Hunter with a thoughtful, almost wistful sense of gratitude. He pondered the sacrifices he had made to achieve such peace, his reverie only broken by the sound of your voice filling the silence.

“I don’t know how Shep got those meilooruns. I didn’t think they grew around here. I mean, technically, we’re in the Outer Rim, but the climate isn’t identical to Tatooine or Ryloth, for example,” you mused curiously, your eyes scanning the datapad in your hands. Seated on Hunter’s lap, your back rested against his chest, while he nestled his chin in the curve of your neck, trying to read along. “It’s not only rare, but it’s also incredibly sought after because of its unique flavor. Plus, it stays fresh for a long time, which is a big plus for traders,” you added, your finger trailing down the screen filled with highlighted snippets of trivia about the exotic fruit.

“Uhm, I bet it must be worth quite a bit on the market if it’s that valuable,” Hunter reflected casually, his hands resting on your waist, fingers gently caressing your exposed skin. “Well, now I understand why there was such a huge queue just to get a piece.”

You hummed in agreement, snuggling deeper into his arms. Every now and then, you’d bring up another interesting fact or detail that had caught your attention. Hunter, meanwhile, occupied himself with the simple pleasure of relaxing, savoring the mundane routine that now defined his life. The prospect of worrying about the rising price of fruit was far more appealing than the constant threat of the Empire. In these moments, wrapped in your presence, he found a profound sense of contentment, cherishing the peace he had fought so hard to attain.

5) Sit on his lap when applying some makeup on him.

“Darling, it's no big deal, just a little pressure. You won't even feel it,” you murmured softly, trying —and failing spectacularly— to apply the eye pencil to Hunter's eye. Despite your reassurances and his best efforts, he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Even small reflexes like wiggling his leg or shifting his thigh made you feel like you were dancing in his lap.

"It's not your eye that's being poked," Hunter grumbled quietly, pouting as he struggled to keep his eyes open without blinking. The sensation of the eye pencil gliding along his waterline was uncomfortable, heightened by his keen senses.

You gently held his chin, your thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. You hadn’t realized just how intense the sensation might be for him. With a slightly guilty pout, you let the eye pencil drop from your fingers onto the bed.

“I managed to apply it to just one eye,” you pondered softly, leaning to the side to pick up the small mirror so Hunter could see your work. He stared at his reflection in surprise. He wouldn't have expected it, but the layer of black pencil under his eye looked surprisingly nice, though he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

“Maybe I could be persuaded to let you do the other eye,” he suggested mischievously, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of amusement and affection. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Uhm, I can think of a few ways,” you whispered back, your lips hovering over his before closing the distance. You pressed a passionate kiss to his lips, your hands already pushing against his shoulders, guiding him to lie back on the bed. His heart swelled with love and ease, the discomfort of the eye pencil forgotten as he melted into your embrace. The sensation of your lips against his, soft and insistent, he felt cherished and deeply connected, the shared affection enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and security.

6) Plus one time you didn’t

The days in Pabu seemed to awaken earlier, as Tech had once explained, because the sun rose a few hours ahead of the neighboring planets. The warm rays of dawn gently invaded the room, casting a golden glow over the figures nestled in bed. A gentle breeze swayed the curtains, creating a delicate dance in the morning light.

"It's not even seven in the morning," you mumbled sleepily, your voice a soft whisper against the dawn. Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, you tried to adjust to the tender light of a new day.

"Is there ever a wrong time to be affectionate with you, mesh'la?" Hunter's voice was a gentle caress, his eyebrow arched in a playful query. His hand, warm and tender, brushed against your cheek, sending shivers of love and comfort through your drowsy form.

"Well, when I'm still half asleep, maybe?" you replied with a teasing smile, leaning into his touch. "But I suppose for you, there's never a wrong time." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "What's got you so affectionate this early, hmm?"

"Nothing, I just wanted affection from my girlfriend. Is that a crime?" Hunter murmured softly, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent deeply. Your curls tickled his nose, but he didn't mind; all he wanted was to have you in his arms.

"Well, of course not," you replied gently, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Lowering your eyes to meet his, you added, "But I don't believe that's all. I know you, Hunter. Spill it."

Hunter chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Alright, you caught me, mesh'la. I must admit, seeing you in that dress last night... it's been on my mind." His hands, strong yet gentle, held your hips, guiding you to sit on his lap. "I've been longing to feel you close like this again," he whispered, his voice a tender caress, conveying the depth of his desire and affection.

"Oh, is that it, my love?" you teased softly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nestled into his lap. "I'll be sure to remember to wear that dress more often," you murmured, your voice a playful whisper. The closeness brought a warmth that filled the space between you, each touch and word deepening the bond you cherished so dearly.

Hunter’s eyes gleamed with desire, his grip tightening slightly on your hips. "Do that, and you'll find yourself in quite a few compromising situations, mesh’la," he warned playfully, his voice a velvety whisper. His lips met yours in a tender, passionate kiss, conveying a depth of emotion that words could not capture. "I promise to make it worth your while," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours as the promise hung in the air, full of longing and affection.

You smiled affectionately against his lips, moving your hips over his lap in a sensual dance, your fingers clinging to his bare shoulders to intensify your painfully lascivious movement. ''I'll remember, huh"

Hunter groaned softly, his body responding to your tantalizing movements. "You're playing with fire, mesh'la," he murmured, his hands wandering up your thighs, pushing the hem of your nightgown higher. "And you know I love every second of it." His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses as his hands explored your curves.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you caught Hunter staring at you, his gaze lingering on the hem of your nightgown, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places.

''You couldn't keep your eyes off me last night," you whispered, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. You slowly began to trace patterns on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His breath hitched as you leaned in, your breasts pressing against him, your lips brushing against his ear.

"And now, I can't keep my hands off you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. You let your fingers dance down his stomach, feeling him shiver under your touch. You hooked your finger into the waistband of his boxers, pulling him closer, grinding against him. He was already hard, and you could feel him throbbing against your center.

Hunter's grip on your hips tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as your words and touch ignited a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing the primal hunger that coursed through his veins. "Mesh'la," he groaned, his voice a desperate plea, "you're killing me."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up emotions into it. His tongue danced with yours, claiming your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your desire. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, before finally finding the damp lace of your panties. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing painfully against his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to tear off your clothes, to bury himself deep inside you, to feel you pulse around him as you came undone.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you lifted your hips, allowing Hunter to slowly peel your soaked panties down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. Your heart raced in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you eagerly awaited what was to come.

Your fingers fumbled with his boxers, your hands shaking with anticipation as you finally freed him from the confines of his clothing. You marveled at the sight of him, thick and hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. You longed to taste him, to feel him pulse in your mouth, but your desire to have him inside you was too great.

You guided him to your entrance, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him gently as you positioned him at your core. You could feel the heat radiating from you, your body aching with need. Hunter's hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you open, his gaze locked on where you were about to join.

"Please, Hunter," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "I need you inside me. Now." Your hips bucked, trying to impale yourself on him, but he held you firm, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Not yet, mesh'la," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I want to watch you take me in. Slowly." And with that, he began to push into you, inch by torturous inch, filling you completely, stretching you deliciously. You gasped, your head falling back as you savored the sensation, your body trembling with pleasure.

When Hunter finally sheathed himself completely inside you, you let out a cry of ecstasy, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to his size. He gave you a moment to settle in, his hands stroking your hair, his breath warm on your neck as he murmured soothing words in your ear.

But soon, the need for movement became too great. You began to rock your hips, sliding up and down his length, taking him deeper with each thrust. Hunter groaned, his hands moving to grip your ass, helping to guide your movements, setting a rhythm that had you both gasping for air.

You could feel the tension building inside you, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap. Hunter must have sensed it too, because he suddenly flipped you onto your back, his hands pinning your wrists above your head as he began to pound into you, his pace frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Come for me, mesh'la," he growled, his voice laced with desperation. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock as you come apart."

His words sent you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you screamed his name. Hunter followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his own cries of pleasure mingling with yours.

In the aftermath, he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and spent. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your hearts beating in sync as you both struggled to catch your breath.

#tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #sargent hunter #tbb hunter

164 notes · View notes