#do not put a cloud in sunny sky!
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the worst trope in literature is when good people needlessly suffer
#this man is pure!! innocent!!#do not put a cloud in sunny sky!#let my boy be happy#I know it’s realistic but I get attached to fictional people!!#it makes me viscerally ill#and my therapist is sick of me crying about another made up person dying#in conclusion we should take all the pain out of literature and let the little dudes in the story be happy#I just finished the first lotr books and if something bad happens to Frodo I’m going to kill myself#dark academia#literature#books
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don't feel bad about self reblogs, it's always awesome to see your art on my dash and I'm sure I'm not alone with this!
Awe, that's very sweet of you to say!
Tbth i have a really strange relationship with posting online – on one hand, I love just posting whatever and really really enjoy interacting with others, but on the other hand, I'm not sure if it's RSD or what, but i experience like. Social recoil? Where i tend to immediately regret and/or worry over the perception of stuff i post (way more than would be considered normal), especially with posts or reblogs that hardly really garner any interaction at all.
I know it's normal for artists of all kinds to be disheartened by things like that, and I don't necessarily create for others, but that is why i post it online- i mean...why else would you? I see that a lot, people feeling poorly about low interaction, and others trying to encourage them by telling them to make art for themselves and to not worry about it, but that's always come across a little odd to me. No, you probably shouldn't be doing something if you're only doing it for attention, but isn't interaction the point of sharing the things you make online?
Especially so in the case of people who really want to make a living being an artist in their chosen "field". To some degree, you do have to treat it like a business. You do have to sell yourself and try to "grow your audience" if you have any chance of making any sort of income at all, just like any self employment type of job. It feels condescending to see others tell artists who get frustrated with social media constantly doing things to make it harder to have any reach at all that they should care less about the algorithm or numbers when a lot of these people don't have a choice. It feels like hardly a day goes by I don't see posts on twitter or tumblr of someone taking emergency commissions just to cover rent or food for a few days.
Got a bit off topic there, but i sort of rest in a very strange place with my art in that, skill level wise, I'm very much an amateur, but due to Life Issues I won't get into, I can't hold a "normal" job, and I've been constantly kind of battling myself for a couple years now on how to approach trying to make Doing Art Online my career.
I need to put in the work to improve my art so i can not just post more frequently but hopefully get more commission work (which i would honestly also enjoy, I love making things for others, it's one of my favorite things about being able to post online), but i also want to improve my skill level so i can make the things I want to as well (I'm also unfortunately plagued by the Kind Of Wants To Do Everything desires and also want to make plush, music, 3D and live 2D models, and I'd love to get into streaming proper at some point).
So aaallllll of this to say, self reblogging is a big thing for artists on tumblr these days, esp as i see more and more talk about how low interactions gotten on here in the past few years, it's rough! But i also feel like im not...skilled(?) enough to do Proper Online Artist things. I guess. Which is dumb but ah I do not control the chokehold whichever mental issue has on me
#was gunna delete all of this and just respond like a normal person but I'm very sleep deprived right now so you get the evil version#might wind up coming back and doing that anyway via edit if the Fear finds me#my cat just came over and yelled until i lowered my hand to pet her and she rubbed her nose on me and left 😭#she used me as a damn tissue#okay anyway#sorry anon you were being nice and i made it weird </3#/lh#anonymous#i have a super complicated relationship with posting online and being annoying and struggling with Life Things#it's a balancing act for sure#ty all the same#clear sky sunset#sunny with clouds#edit: put his ass under a read more bc ough
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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]
kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl
ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader
ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.
ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)
ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)
ᰔ words. 11.3k
a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol
nav. masterlist
☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*゚playlist
11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you
11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?
11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field
11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts
11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(
11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there
11:14am you: or be square?
11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie
It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.
Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.
It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).
It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore.
And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside.
You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.
Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets.
A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to.
When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head.
When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.
“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.
“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”
He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”
“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.
Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.”
“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”
He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”
It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”
His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”
Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life.
You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true?
“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything.
His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced?
“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”
You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.
“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.
There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field.
“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”
“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time.
He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again.
“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”
“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.”
“You have to close your eyes though.”
“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.
“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.
“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”
You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.
“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.
He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.
“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.
He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”
“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes. Maybe.”
He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.”
You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.
The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater.
You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.
“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.
You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.”
He nods at you in approval.
The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern.
Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable.
The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.
Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd.
Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle.
And then the kickoff starts.
The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.
Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net.
The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit.
With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU.
Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play.
You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead.
The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts.
YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.
The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him.
He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you.
1-1, even match.
UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.
They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.
Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet.
The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net.
2-1, UTokyo.
It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.
You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines.
Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.
The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.
Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state.
YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff.
There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line.
Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball.
Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post.
You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.
It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him.
3-1, UTokyo.
The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.
There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.
It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with.
And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully.
“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.
You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”
“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”
Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.
“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in.
You shake your head and wait for his response.
He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”
You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.
“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”
You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field.
The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.
YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime.
All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing.
You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet.
His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you.
Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet.
Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side.
UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound.
You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.
“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.
Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.
His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.
“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.”
“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.
“Oh yeahhh, ‘cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field.
You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.
“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together.
The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”
Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.
“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”
Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”
“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”
“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”
“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”
You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”
He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”
“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.
“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.
“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.
“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”
You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”
“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”
He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.”
“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”
“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.
No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.
“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”
“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.
The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.
“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”
“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.
All you can do is watch.
“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”
Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long.
Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”
“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.
“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”
The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.
Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”
“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.
Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”
The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.
“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”
Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.
“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”
H–
Huh?!?!?
You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.
What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?
The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.
The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.
“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”
The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you.
He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security.
Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?
The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.
And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.
He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.
He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.
His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.
“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”
The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.
You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.
And then the halftime timer is up.
You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.
“Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space.
“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”
His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”
“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”
“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”
Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”
“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.
The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.
Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus.
3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.
It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.
3-2.
The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.
One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.
Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.
Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius.
The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–
It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does.
The stadium erupts with the momentum.
4-3, UTokyo.
It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team.
Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk.
YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play.
The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.
YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.
Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–
And the ball lands in the net.
4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock.
There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum.
To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field.
The referee chirps his whistle.
Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion.
It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.
With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–
In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.
With three-two-one seconds, the match was over.
5-4, UTokyo’s win.
The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.
You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.
His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath.
“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!”
The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed.
You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.
He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.
“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.
You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.
You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.
It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.
.
.
.
.
.
[end of kickoff ch12]
a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!
OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:
During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant.
the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0
➸ you're all caught up!
additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)
taglist:
@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed
@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p
@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance
@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress
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@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl
@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover
@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe
[taglist is closed]
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x reader angst#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru angst#jjk gojo#jjk fanfiction#smut#angst#fluff#geto suguru#nanami kento#choso kamo#college au#sports au#series#alternative universe#jjk series#long fic#jjk smut#romance#slow burn#kickoff#fanfiction#anime
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Shadows in the Sun (established relationship with Azriel, sunny day with the IC, Overprotective mate, teasing by Cass and Rhys)
It was the perfect summer day by the Sidra, the sky a brilliant blue with not a single cloud in sight. The Inner Circle had decided to spend the afternoon by the river, taking advantage of the warm weather. Feyre and Mor were lounging nearby, laughing and talking, while Cassian and Rhys splashed around in the water like a pair of overgrown children, their wings sending up waves as they wrestled with each other.
You were stretched out on a soft towel, basking in the warmth of the sun as the river's gentle breeze rustled through the trees. The heat on your skin was soothing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could fully relax. The sounds of your friends' laughter mixed with the rush of the water, creating a perfect atmosphere of peace.
But you knew peace wouldn’t last for long with Azriel around.
You sensed him before you saw him—the familiar whisper of shadows lingering in the air, brushing against your skin as if trying to warn you. A soft chuckle left your lips, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
Moments later, you felt a cool shadow fall over you, blocking the warmth of the sun. You opened your eyes, squinting slightly as Azriel stood over you, his wings stretched wide, casting a protective barrier between you and the sun’s rays.
"Azriel," you groaned with a laugh, playfully swatting at him, "I’m trying to tan."
He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in that way that made your heart flutter. "You’ve been in the sun long enough," he said, his voice calm but laced with that overprotective edge you knew so well. "You’ll burn."
Before you could protest, he knelt down beside you, the dampness from his swim causing droplets of water to fall onto your skin. His wings curled slightly around you, shielding you from the bright light. You could see his brothers behind him, still in the water, casting knowing glances your way.
Cassian yelled from the river, voice dripping with teasing, "Az, let her get some sun! Stop being a mother hen!"
Azriel ignored him, his attention completely on you as he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you’d left beside your towel. His gaze softened as he met your eyes, and without asking, he popped the cap open and poured some into his hands.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.
Azriel’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’m taking care of you,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He started with your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he massaged the sunscreen into your skin. The feeling of his hands on you, combined with the coolness of the lotion, sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat of the day. His fingers trailed over your arms, making sure not to miss a single spot, his eyes focused intently on his task.
“You’re overprotective, you know that?” you teased softly, your voice laced with affection.
Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, creating a cocoon of shade around you. His gaze flickered to your face, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say that,” you said with a soft laugh, tilting your head back as he moved to rub sunscreen along your legs. “But you do know I’m capable of putting sunscreen on myself, right?”
Azriel’s smile widened, though his eyes were serious as they flicked up to meet yours. “I know. But I like taking care of you.” His fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, his touch filled with tenderness as he continued his task.
You couldn't help but melt under his care, your heart swelling at the softness in his voice. Even as a formidable warrior and shadowsinger, Azriel was always gentle with you, always showing his love in these small, protective ways.
Rhys called out from the water, clearly amused by the scene playing out in front of him. “Azriel, I think she’s good! You missed a spot on her elbow, though.”
You rolled your eyes, and Azriel shot his High Lord a half-hearted glare before returning his focus to you. Once he was satisfied with his work, he leaned back on his heels, his wings folding slightly but still providing you with shade. “You can tan later,” he said, his voice quieter now, softer. “I just don’t want you to burn.”
You reached out, resting your hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” you whispered, letting him know how much you appreciated his protectiveness, even if you didn’t always admit it out loud.
Azriel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Anything for you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.
As he stood, you could see that familiar glint of mischief return to his eyes. “Now, stay here where it’s safe,” he teased, his wings flaring slightly as he turned back toward the river. “I’m going to deal with my brothers.”
With a wink, he stalked back toward the water, his shadows trailing behind him as he approached Cassian and Rhys, who were still laughing at his overprotectiveness. But from the look on Azriel’s face, you knew they’d be on the receiving end of his payback soon enough.
And as you lay back down, smiling to yourself, you knew that no matter how overprotective your mate could be, you wouldn’t trade him—or his giant, shade-casting wings—for anything in the world.
#azriel x female!reader#azriel x oc#acotar#azriel x you#azriel x reader#azriel x reader fluff#azriel fanfic#acotar reader imagine#acotar x reader
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~ 04.10 - Neuvillette ~
Dom!reader x sub!Neuvillette - reader is gender neutral
Warning: boss (neuvi) /assistant (us) relationship, neuvi & reader are both virgins~, vent fingering, bathtub, heat (implied), dragon anatomy, rubbing his dicks together, mind break, sub space, breaking into his house (lol)
~ Word count: 6.8k ~
Nini!rant: special thanks to @sh1-n0bu for explaining her reptile kink to me <3
Kinktober list 2024
It was sunny on that day, no clouds were in sight, only the clear blue sky could be seen. The bustling sounds of the people are echoing from every corner, whispers akin to the buzzing of bees reached your ears. “Did you hear…” one of the shopkeepers murmured, “our archon, she…” another person commented. As always, people seemed to love gossip or rumors.
You couldn’t blame them, their curiosity was justified. Normally you would have wanted to eavesdrop a little more, but not this time, because you had other things to worry about. Today you were going to get a different position at work, all you hoped for was that it wouldn’t be worse than the previous one. You took the elevator upstairs, then made your way to your workplace, where you’ll have to deal with nasty higher-ups again.
If it were for you, you’d fire them all, every single one of them couldn’t do anything yet bosses their subordinates around like they are worth less than dirt. Not to mention all those unreasonable rules, who in their right mind would remember them all? After a short walk, you reached the Palais Mermonia. Hectic footsteps emerged from the building, the source was without fail beneath that unnecessarily huge door. With a final sigh, you opened that door and went inside.
First things first, since they told you that you were going to go to a new department, you had to wait in front of the office of your boss until he assigned you a new role. He was the chief justice of fontain and thus had his own room. It was the last chamber on the right. When it was finally your turn, you heard someone else opening the heavy entrance and walking in. No, not just one, many people, a big group of them, alongside photographers snapping pictures.
That wasn’t your business, so you ignored it and went on with your own life. You put on a fake smile as you greeted that old, insufferable boss of yours, “Good morning Monsieur, what can I do for you?” Your soft and calm tone, honed to perfection, was as flawless as ever. Not a single soul could guess your true feelings beneath that facade. Slowly you got closer to his desk, and he finally notices you.
“You are here, y/n.” He noted, without returning your greeting. “You know you are getting a new job, an important one at that. Don’t fail me.” That man said as he stared right into your eyes, a poor try to intimidate you. “Yes, I understand. May I know the nature of my work?” Despite his impoliteness, you replied in a professional manner. In truth you were sick and tired of this, why did they always have to beat around the bush? It was such a waste of time.
If in the end you have to work overtime because this superior of yours won’t stop yapping, you were really going to throw hands.
“You will see soon.” He said and pointed toward the couch on the left side of the room. You sat down on it soon after, not questioning all this strange behavior. How you hated this, but regrettably the pay was too good. After a short while, the door opened, and the crowd's screams seeped into the room. It got muffled again when the door got closed, the only sounds remaining were the footsteps of two individuals.
You didn’t think much about it and stayed seated, your boss on the other hand got up immediately and welcomed the two guests with open arms. He put on a cheerful air as he said, “Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to visit this humble place, our dearest hydro archon! You as well… errr.. Monsieur!”
Wait what?
Did you hear that right? The hydro archon, focalor? What is she doing here! How could it be that someone like you would be granted the chance to meet her in such a close and intimate setting? This has to be a joke, this has to be- “no need to thank us, please, I have to be the modest one in this situation.” She spoke, her voice was soft like silk, she’d be a great singer. “No way, I’d never dare to disrespect our archon like that. Y/n, you come here too and greet our archon!”
You heard that man call out to you, so you hurried over. There she was, a lady with beautiful long silver-white hair who owned a strong aura. This was no joke, she was the real deal. “Please excuse this citizen, I humbly greet the hydro archon.” You bowed, trying your utmost to be the best version of yourself. From the corners of your eyes, you saw a tall male standing behind the archon. He also looked important, as well as strong.
The way he stood there was confident and serious, something about him told you he wasn’t human. That feeling was supported by his appearance. Putting aside the fact that he was astonishingly beautiful, his hair was also long and white, and some blue strands could be seen on top of his head. Also, he was definitely filthy rich, his clothes were the top quality and looked like the meticulous work of a private designer. Just what did you put yourself into?
Focalor smiled gently, a parent-like smile as she spoke, “It’s alright, I should thank you for taking care of my friend here. Please do your best.” Now you were genuinely confused, this was beyond your comprehension. Was it something only high-ranking people understand? Was it a quiz? You don’t remember helping someone whose Titel was the friend of an archon.
Before you got the time to ponder over her words, she already explained it, saying, “From today onwards, my friend here will take over the job of chief justice. That means you’ll work under his command. But you see, he isn’t good with people, so I’d like to ask you to take care of him.” If this man here will become the new judge, then… you turned over to your now ex-superior, staring at him blankly. “I’ll retire soon, work hard y/n.” He said while smiling irritatingly, before patting you on the shoulder, as if he’s proud of you or something.
How you despised him. Did this really have to happen so spontaneously? Couldn’t they have given you a goddamn warning? A heads-up? You couldn’t get angry though, not in the presence of your deity. “I.. ehm, I accept this job with great gratitude.” You eventually uttered, not knowing what to do in such a situation. Well, you didn’t have a choice, did you?
“Good, how fabulous, then may I request for you to leave the room first?” The archon said as she turned over to look at your ex-boss, and he rushed out of the room just like how he rushed to them the moment he heard their footsteps. Somehow you wished he stayed because it was really suffocating standing there on your own. “I only have one more thing to discuss with you.” Focalor stated, before continuing with, “Can I ask you for a favor?”
You nodded in agreement, replying with a yes. “Could you teach him how to behave like a human? As you probably noticed, he isn’t of the same race as you, but I’d like for him to live among humans freely.” She smiled widely again, bringing forth a sense of comfort. Despite that, you were still hesitant and on edge. The words she voiced out; not human, teaching… it sounds like you’ll have a lot of extra work in the future. Also, how do you teach someone how to be human? Isn't it more of an instinct kind of thing, do you just tell him to have common sense?
“Great! It put me at ease to see my friend here got such a caring assistant, please take care of him in my stead.” Your archon smiled brightly, waving the other person goodbye as she left. Now this is awkward. You were standing face to face with your new superior, someone who was way more important than your previous boss. How great, this is only increasing the pressure at work. With a final sigh, you swallowed the nervousness down and began introducing yourself, “Nice to meet you, I’m y/n, and from today onwards I am your assistant, feel free to ask me anything.”
This should suffice, right? You had to adapt to your new position very quickly, to not seem unreliable, all you hoped for was that he wouldn’t be worse than the last one. “My name is Neuvillette, I’ll be in your care then.” He said while looking at you with his pretty eyes. His eye makeup was very beautiful, or were these markings?
Nonetheless, he was quite the eye candy compared to your ex-boss. Suddenly another concern popped up in your mind, what if he’s a player, or super arrogant? You quickly threw away these thoughts, it would be unfair to judge someone based on their appearance alone. Even though you still hesitated, you forced out a bright smile as always and uttered, “I’ll show you what kind of work you can expect.”
Contrary to what you feared, Neuvillette was very hard-working. He really wanted to do this job well, and he adapted to the position of chief justice very quickly as well. Less than a week later, he was ready to take on court cases and judge the convicts by himself. On the other hand, he didn’t understand humans and their emotions at all. It was difficult for him to learn their manners, especially the meaning of empathy.
He understood the basic concepts, like if someone lost something then they’d be sad. But why should their friend grieve with them as well, they didn't lose anything right? One of his problems was that he couldn’t read between the lines, so if someone didn’t tell him how they felt, he wouldn’t have the slightest clue.
You thought it was due to his rather emotionless nature since he never seemed happy or sad before. He always wore this serious and nonchalant expression, carrying out his duties with the utmost professionalism. He was the perfect judge who stayed clearheaded in every situation, and he was also a great superior. Just saying but, gosh, he finished his work so quickly it was amazing. Also one of the first things you taught him was how to be nice to one’s subordinates, and he’s been following your advice nicely.
Honestly? You enjoyed working under him. Your pay got raised, and you got to take care of a pretty boy. Sure, the hours increased by a bit, but it wasn’t as dramatic as you thought. Sometimes you’d even bring him lunch because you liked his attitude and wanted him to stay until you retire. It was also quite funny how dense he was, things that were normal for you were weird for him. Whenever you saw his perplexed face while studying humans, you couldn't help but chuckle under your breath.
One thing that you noticed after he came to fontain was how the weather worsened. Fontain wasn’t known for having long periods of bad weather, so it was strange how much it rained lately. Well, who knows, it probably doesn’t have a logical explanation behind it anyway. For now, you had to organize these court documents before handing them to 'monsieur' Neuvillette again, humming to yourself as you looked over them. Check.. and check, huh, looking good.
Now you had to find him, where could he be? He wasn’t at the Palais Mermonia, so perhaps he went on a walk? Or was he at his home? The next judgment was going to start in less than an hour, and the chief justice always had to arrive early, even if technically everyone would wait for him to start.
He mentioned to you before how he wished to do his work seriously, and that you had permission to do whatever to teach him if necessary. That’s why you were at his doorstep, knocking on the door while sweat formed on your forehead. You ran all the way here since you didn’t want his reputation to be tarnished by being late. The two of you would need to go to the opera house later as well, and that will take some time too. “Excuse me, Monsieur Neuvillette…?” You called out to him, no response. Weird.
Should you try and look through the windows? Or maybe he’s at the opera house already? That could be it, he has never been late after all. Before leaving completely, you tried to open the door just as a last resort, turning the doorknob. To your surprise, it opened, so the door wasn’t locked. “Huh..?” You gasped, feeling a little nervous now. Why was his door not locked, and should you really just walk inside? After pondering over it for a while you came to the conclusion, well, why not! If he was there, then you’ll quickly get him, and if not you’ll act like it never happened.
Since your reason was important as well, it should be all alright, right? With that being said, you carefully slandered through the halls of his house. His home was very modest, it didn’t reflect his position at all. With his authority, he could have gotten himself a mansion, but he settled for average? Nonetheless, you kept going, opening the doors carefully as if they were out of porcelain. Until you heard a noise. It was muffled through what seemed like a door, was Neuvillette still there or it was an intruder? Somehow you didn’t want to take another step anymore.
You eventually reached the root of the noise, and more sounds emerged from behind the door. It kind of gave you Deja vu, but you weren’t sure what exactly. After much consideration, you just simply opened that door, and warm air instantly hit your face. The room was so hot and full of condensed water, was it a bathroom or sauna?
You squeezed your eyes shut, then blindly entered the room, hands fluttering around to try and find something to hold on to. Then you touched something akin to porcelain, or was it acrylic? When you opened your eyes again, you stood right in front of Monsieur Neuvillette, who seemed to be sleeping in the bathtub. All naked.
It was an understatement to say you were stunned. You were so speechless that you didn’t move for a good minute. What should you do? He is sleeping and hasn’t noticed you yet, should you just wake him up? But this situation was kind of inappropriate. After all, you just intruded into his home and invaded his privacy. Time seemed to pass so slowly, yet you still haven’t come to a conclusion. In the end, you decided to stop being such a wimp and wake him up, then apologize to him a thousand times.
When you gradually got closer to him, you got a better look at his body. His skin was so perfect, smooth, and pale, like these models in magazines. Though he had scales located near his pelvis, which you thought was fascinating. So, when the hydro archon said ‘not human’, she meant a mermaid? There were no mermaid tails to see, perhaps he’s hiding them? Damn, how curious you were, even so, you decided to ask him later since you had other problems at hand. Gently, you nudged his body, hoping that would be enough to wake him up.
Nothing happened.
Then, you shook his shoulder, trying to be tender with him. Still nothing. You sighed, asking yourself what to do. A few moments later his eyelids twitched, and it shocked you to the core, you felt your soul leaving your body for a split second. Now that it has come to this, you were kind of embarrassed. Waiting patiently for him to notice your presence. “Uh.. y/n? What are you doing here?” Neuvillette asked, eyes still half-lidded as he slowly turned to look at you.
“I’m so sorry, Monsieur Neuvillette, but we have a court case in a few-” You stopped abruptly, noticing how his face was all red. “Are you alright, sir?!” In the blink of an eye, you reached out to his face and pressed your palm against his forehead, testing his temperature with your hand. He was burning, did he get a fever or was it because of the water? “This doesn’t look good.. should I postpone the court case?” You mumbled under your breath and pulled your hand back, not noticing the slight blush on his cheeks at your bold moves.
To your surprise, the male commented, “Your hand.. it’s cold, it feels nice.” It seems he really is sick, damn it, you should have taken better care of him. He probably got sick because he worked too much. “I’ll call a doctor, please wait a second.” You proposed, but he denied your idea. “It’s not a big deal, it’s probably because I've been bathing in hot water.” The boy said and stared up at you, his lashes were all wet just like his hair.
Despite the guilt gnawing at you, you had to admit he looked irresistible right now, and the fact that he was all naked was not helping. After more hesitation, your desire won against your reason, and your consciousness was killing you. Should you really do this? You kept asking yourself that question. The thing you were going to do, was it morally correct?
Before you found the answer to that question, you opened your mouth and said half-jokingly, "I understand. But, Monsieur Neuvillette, did you know? There is a very unique human custom that you haven't learned yet." His eyes widened a little, head tilted to the side as he mumbled, "Yes? And what is it?" You swallowed the guilt down your throat and responded, "Our current situation fits the requirements, so following that tradition.. uhm... we could do something… fun, if you want." Look at that unsure tone in your voice, were you trying to convince him or yourself?
Neuvillette looked at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue your story. Eventually, you did exactly that, whispering in a low voice, "It means I could, if you allow it… er, t-touch here..." Out of nowhere, your hand reached downwards, and the sound of water splashing around followed close behind. “Somewhere around here.” He could feel your fingertips brush over his pelvis, and a dark blush covered his face. "I-I see, is it... um, really a custom?" The male shyly looked away, he wasn't sure what to think about this, was it really a cultural thing?
At the same time, he was curious, he wanted to know how humans interacted and worked, so he had to experience it firsthand to understand them. "We don't have to if you don't want to try." You quickly told him, hoping that he was oblivious enough to believe that crazy story. Instead of agreeing, Neuvillette grabbed your wrist and brought it to his crotch. His cheeks were even redder than before as he admitted, "I— I want to try then... I want to learn more about humans."
You could swear you were getting dizzy as well, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sweet voice and erotic display of the male. The uncomfortable yet determined look on his face, and how his body was subconsciously begging you to touch him. Even so, he was your boss, should you really do something like this with him? Your hand kept lingering over his private area, itching to touch him but too worried to actually do it. “Hurry up..” he groaned, and any concerns you had dissipated. “Then.. please lay back and leave it to me.”
Gently, you told Neuvillette to let go of your wrist, and he stayed put all obediently. Seeing how easily he did as you said sent a shiver down your spine, and you started rubbing his belly, causing him to tremble slightly. Neuvillette closed his eyes and sealed his lips together. Your touches moved slowly but surely lower, until your delicate fingertips caressed the baby blue scales above his vent. His breath hitched in his throat, anticipation filling him as well as fear. From that moment onwards, he was yours. His heart beat like crazy, and all because of you, only for you.
On the other hand, you were amazed with his anatomy. The scales were hard and sturdy, but the more you rubbed those beautiful things, the more they softened. It only took a short moment before the male started panting quietly, eyes still pressed into a thin line as he refused to look at you, all due to his own embarrassment.
How cute, you thought. The way he was underneath you with his face flushed like some love-struck maiden encouraged you to go further. This was also how you found out his eyeliner wasn't makeup instead he was born that way. What a beautiful being he was, so breathtaking that he could be an angel sent from the heavens.
The water was clear like glass, you could see everything through it, from his vent to his milky thighs, all of it was laid bare for your eyes to feast on. At first, you wondered if he had a cunt since it looked like one but also not. It didn't bother you in the slightest though. Later on, when you got to the point where you caressed the scales right on his lips, you saw how two dicks slowly emerge from that slit. As if they grew inside him, to the point they were noticeable from the outside.
Right, if that wasn't astonishing enough, there were two? Hah, how incredible! He was really different from humans, and it only intrigued you even more. Neuvillette on the other hand looked so embarrassed, he was never this exposed to anyone, and he also never touched himself there. So you are the first to explore that area, to see this vulnerable, emotional side of his. His expressions were just so pretty~
The fact that he had two dicks was extraordinary, no doubt, but for now you were more invested in that vent of his. With little caresses that were akin to the soft crawls of a kitten without claws, you rubbed the edge of his cunt. "Uh- uhm..! Y/n, please be gen-gentle with me..." He pleaded in a weak voice, hands thrown over his mouth to hide his humiliating noises.
You nodded before caressing that part of him in earnest, and it was so soft, it was way softer than what you imagined. Honestly, you couldn’t even believe what the heck you were doing right now. Playing with him like this, the sheer audacity got you all nervous and lustful. This power struggle was really hot in your opinion. How did things even come to this point? He was only taking a bath, so how are you suddenly doing inappropriate things with him?
The only annoying thing was the water because it kept washing away his natural lubricants. God, you wanted to do so many things to him, to your boss nonetheless, you were so shameless. Then an idea crossed your mind, could you perhaps fit your finger inside that space? Why not try it out..? Gently, or as gently as you could since you had to squeeze a little, you managed to stick your middle finger inside him. It wasn’t even fully in him, yet he was already gasping and moaning.
Hands clenched around the edge of the bathtub, enough for his veins to become noticeable. His insides were so soft and squishy, and the way the edges clenched around your fingers as well as how his dicks twitched was just so erotic. The scales on either side were shining like peals, they had long become soft unlike before. You licked your bottom lip, feeling a sense of lust course through your body.
His pleasure-ridden expression brought you further down this hypnotizing feeling of want and need. “Wha-what is this..?” Neuvillette gasped, gazing at you with a look of confusion and embarrassment. Is this how it is supposed to feel? He did want you to touch him, but this was kind of shameful, yet he didn’t know why. It just felt inappropriate but amazing, he's not even sure if he should stop it or encourage you.
“Y/n… ah, I, mhmm!!” Right before he finished his sentence, you pushed your finger deeper into him, until your digit was buried in his vent to the knuckles. This was quite the fight, though it was worth it. His mouth hung wide open at this point and his entire being was shaking in ecstasy. After making sure he was doing alright, to some extent, you started moving your finger.
Of course, the poor and innocent Monsieur who had never had anyone touch him there yelped in surprise, he didn’t even know you could reach that deep inside! Oh but now he feels like he was being stretched to his limit, and filled to the brim. There was no way he could take any more than this, there was just no way. Your fingers felt so good, he was too ashamed to admit but he loved the feeling of clenching around them, that was all he knew.
He didn’t know the reason why it felt good, nor why he liked it, so he blamed it all on his instincts. "So this is why humans have this custom, it's because it feels so hot and, good..." Neuvillette uttered under his breath, drool was handing out from his lips already. Suddenly you curled them slightly, to press and poke at his soft walls. “Ah-…ah.?!” The dragon couldn’t help but mewl again, his thighs were trembling, causing the water inside the bathtub to splash around.
“This is so fun, isn't it, Monsieur Neuvillette~" You teased while pleasuring him with your finger. "Hu-huh..? uhh- I think so.. er, please address me in-informally in these settings..." He suddenly said, seemingly flustered at the fact that you were using his official title. His adorable words were so cute that you couldn't help yourself again, leading to you rubbing his spongy insides. “HnnGH!! Please… no mo-more..” the male then begged you so sweetly you thought you were going to overdose.
What a pitiful guy, tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at literally anything. Then it started to rain, the sound of soft raindrops hitting against the bathroom window served as nature's background music for you. “Aw, you want me to stop, Neuvillette?” His two dicks both twitched at the mere mention of his name, precum collecting around his aquamarine tip. Now that you mentioned it, his cocks were fading into blue from his base onwards.
On another note, Neuvi would have been all sticky with precum now if it wasn’t for the water neutralizing it. “I-I mean.. uhh, no, don’t stop haaah...” The male gently placed his hand on top of yours, trying to keep your touch from leaving his body. “I don’t plan on.” You admitted, then used your other hand to jerk off his dicks, taking both with one hand and rubbing them against each other.
“UgGhHH..!! Too much, too- mhm..!” He complained again, to which you responded with, “Aw, don’t be such a fuss, doesn’t it feel good?” There was no denying it because both of you knew he liked it a lot, his expressions revealed it all. “Nghh, i.. I mean-, uhMMm!” It almost annoyed him how his own moans kept interrupting his sentences. Seriously, it was difficult enough to talk and think about how to form coherent sentences, and then his humiliating whines just had to ruin it.
You were enjoying yourself. Oh, you definitely were. His beautiful silver hair was soaked in the water, shining as if stars descended just to decorate his locks. That handsome face of his was tainted with a bright pink, a huge contrast to his normally pale complexion. The tears which were on the verge of falling finally rolled down his cheeks, or was it just the water of the bathtub? Nonetheless, he looked pretty damn erotic in that moment, so beautiful you were dazed.
Neuvillette noticed you staring, which is why he avoided your gaze, feeling too ashamed to hold eye contact. Yes, he felt hot and was craving whatever you could give him, but this side of his was simply too pathetic and lewd! Gradually, the sound and intensity of the rain increased. It kept hitting the window, so you could hear how it got louder and louder, people also started to run under random roofs to keep themselves dry. After you were sure he got used to your finger, you tried to add another one.
“AhHhh! Mhm, no..! There is no-no space left...!” Once again he was trashing around, complaining, making water spill over, wetting you in the process. “Shh, it’s alright, you can do it Neuvillette, I’m sure you can.” You whispered some words of encouragement to him, praising him while you were at it. He heeded your words, trying hard to accommodate your second digit, because he wanted to do it for you. Eventually, he managed to fit both of them inside, even if it was a long journey, “Ah- ahh.. this is, mHffFhm.. your fingers feel to-too gooood♡♥︎?!”
The boy groaned and whimpered, sobbing behind a face of uncontrollable lust. Each of his moans were a blessing from the heavens for your ears, making your heart flutter as if you were going to enter paradise. He was such an angel after all, wasn’t he? That gorgeous white hair he got could be mistaken as a trait of an angel, not to mention his pure and virtuous personality, if he told you he was an envoy of god you would have believed him with no doubts.
“So stunning.” After thinking all of that, you couldn’t help but compliment him again, all while you stretched his vent with all the tenderness in the world. “NGhHh.. m- uhhmm, y/n, please, I want more..” Neuvillette begged you sweetly, eyes half-open as he embraced this perverted side of his. You were genuinely surprised by his words, you didn't expect to hear him plead for more, hence you stopped your movements for a split second. Damn it, you thought he was just an innocent little mermaid, but maybe there is more to it?
To be honest, you were really into all of this as well. Normally he was your superior whom you had to follow and obey like a loyal dog, but now he was like your cute and adorable little pet, begging for you to play with him. How unpredictable the world is, and you didn't mind it at all. Just looking at him was enough to make you happy, and now you got him wrapped around your finger like it. You were ecstatic!
While you were immersed in the perverted appearance of your boss, you subconsciously trusted your fingers in and out of him, ending with him crying out repeatedly and almost creating cracks in the acrylic due to his tight grip. “AaHHhh!! OOHHh..<3! Mhm, too muOochH, fa-fAasterrr.!♡♡♡~!!” At this point, you didn’t know what he was hoping and pleading for. His sentences have long been rid of any logic since he kept giving mixed signals. So all you did was coo at him and promise him that you’ll make him feel good.
His eyes rolled back to the back of his skull when you accidentally brushed over an especially sensitive spot deep inside him. Now he was truly blabbering nonsense, you could barely understand the meaning of his words. When you sneaked a peek at his face, you saw how he was basically melting. Like butter, slowly falling apart due to the heat. Your movements fastened again, repeatedly pushing your digits in and out of him at a quick pace.
You even caught yourself drooling because you were too concentrated on his expressions, how his features twisted into bliss. All due to you and your fingers. “Ahh.. nghHh, I- I can’t.. it’s so we-weird!” Neuvillette managed to groan out with much effort, his entire body was quivering as if electricity was coursing through him. “So-something is..! NghH, hMMn~ <3” Something? What did he mean by that? “Co-coming… it’s co-mHMm, coming out..♥︎~!!!” Ah, that’s what’s happening. Pff—
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his adorable antics, does he even know how cute he was? Carefully, you rubbed and pressed the tip of your fingers against that sweet spot inside him again, almost abusing that poor spot at this point with how much you were touching it. Each time you did that, he’d arch his back off from the bathtub, and his two bluish dicks would jump in excitement. Everything about him was just so cute! Sure, you were smitten with him from the moment you laid your eyes on him, but now you were sure you couldn’t turn back anymore.
How you wished you could devour him. He just looks so delicious, you could eat him out all day long if he allowed it. Not to mention the way his vent clenches around you and churns, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say you were obsessed, addicted to him. The rest of his body was like a god’s creation as well, sculpted by the meticulous care of the lord.
Each muscle was defined but not overdone, his chest rising and sinking with each breath. His perky nipples also owned a beautiful shade of pink, standing up all proud as if inviting you to taste them. For a second there you were lost in your daydreams, totally hypnotized by the male in front of you. One of his moans managed to pull you out of it, reminding you of your current mission. “UgghHH! Oh-UHhh! Y/n, y/nnn♡♡��︎!”Neuvillette gasped out for your name multiple times, hoping to reach you.
You’ve been squeezing and grazing his sensitive spots without providing him a break, who would be able to withstand all these currents of ecstasy while staying sane? Though, perhaps the poor hydro dragon wasn’t even in his right mind anymore. He couldn’t speak properly or think clearly, can you really call him sane at this point? No, he was a mess, a fool for your touch, an addict drowning in pleasure.
“Oh? My, I was distracted for a second, wasn't I? You are doing great, Neuvillette, keep going. Cum for me?” You praised him once you took in the situation, now pushing your fingers even deeper inside him, causing his heart to stand still for a second. It was as if his mind was breaking, his brain malfunctioning as hot tears rolled down his eyes and into the bathtub. The loud rain outside the house was picking up, becoming harder by the second.
“MhMNG..! Noo- hhGGNnNMm~ I- I’m aaAngGhh!!” High-pitched moans left his throat, they were more akin to screams of pure bliss than anything else. For a split moment, he could feel his consciousness fading away, blacking out before he returned to reality. Some kind of fluid squirted out of his dick, ending in more pleasure cascading through his veins. “GuHhh, Mhh-nghh...? Ahh, ahGnn y/n, y-y/n… ♡~" Neuvillette gagged and choked on his moans, crying hysterically while his cum kept gushing out of his swollen tip.
His legs shook violently, unable to fathom all these sensations and feelings. It was too much to handle! His orgasm washed over him in the most unexpected way possible, and he wasn’t ready for it. By no means he was, though he wouldn't have been ready until the next century. The consistency of his cum was thick and milky, it immediately sunk down to the bottom of the white bathtub. All his strength was gone as if they got robbed from him.
Neuvillette was limping at this point, his bottom a twitchy something where cum kept shooting out of his slit. You took a good look at him, his hair wet and sticking to his body, head thrown back as if he didn’t have enough strength to hold it up. Those cheeks, ears, and shoulders were all flushed pink, also his mouth was a little open due to his continuous groans. He was panting heavily, breathing still unstable. If you had to take a wild guess, he was probably still processing everything that happened as well as the emotions swirling inside him.
Slowly you took your fingers out, he only reacted minimally to the loss of contact. Eyelid twitching a little when the warmth of your digits subsided. You stared at him, at his fucked out and broken state. At that moment, you were sure he was the most attractive he had ever been. Ah. Suddenly you got reminded of the court case he was supposed to attend. Reality hits you like a door in your face. Wait, what time was it? Could you two still make it in time?
You looked at your pocket watch and.. damn it. 10 minutes until the case begins. There was no way you two would arrive on time, especially since you weren’t sure if he could even walk at this point. Then you noticed how he seems to be coming to his senses, so you gently brushed some strands of hair out of his fucked out face.
While doing that, you wore a worried expression across your features as you whispered, “Uh, first, I’m sorry for entering without permission. Your door was open so I was bold enough to enter, forgive me.” Neuvillette’s eyes widened, did he really make such a stupid mistake, for no reason? Well, he did feel a little hot today, maybe a bit out of it as well, but still. You then kept apologizing, saying, “Second, there is a course case in a few minutes, I’m so sorry for neglecting work.” Your tone was an apologetic one, feeling bad for ruining his great reputation.
To your surprise he didn’t seem bothered at all, instead, he looked away in shame. Probably at the thought of what he just did with you, his assistant. “Uh.. no, it’s fine.. I’m at fault too. I shouldn’t have… gotten you into this mess as well.” You instantly shook your head in opposition, “No no, it's on me. But may I ask, how are you feeling? Does anything feel sore?” His face heated up again and he blushed furiously, you were almost able to see smoke coming out of his head. “No I'm fine..” the male mumbled quietly, still avoiding your eyes.
Without wasting any more time, you proposed, “Then shall we hurry-” “No, it’s alright, y-y/n.” He interrupted you, his voice also stuttered and cracked up as he worded your name. God, he was adorable. “The reporter, who was supposed to be present at the trial, couldn’t make it. He got sick. I.. uh, I met his wife on my way to the opera, and she told me she was going to stop by your office to delay it to you.”
You blinked, once, then twice. So that’s why he wasn’t present. Right, your righteous and hard-working boss would never come too late, there must have been an outer influence. The reason why you didn’t know, was because you were working from home today so there was no way for the news to get delivered to you. What a misfortune, but, you got to do this and that with him, so in the end it was a good thing?
You could feel your own cheeks heat up now that everything was over, and the misunderstanding cleared up. “Err, then.. can I help you with anything else, Monsieur Neuvillette?!” Your voice came out accidentally too rough because you were panicking a little. Damn it.. dealing with the aftermath of your actions was kind of embarrassing. So you really.. did this and that.. haha. Damn your self-control, you even lied to him.
Luckily your kind chief didn’t take your rather loud voice as an insult, instead, he handled it gracefully and said, “It’s alright, I’m sorry that you had to see me in that state. Please wait in the living room while I get ready.” You nodded and left right after he finished his sentence, you figured he’d want a little privacy now that everything was over.
Without wasting much time, you left the bathroom. Slowly, the rain stopped, and everything calmed down again. The fog that was once surrounding everything has also disappeared now. After you left, Neuvillette sighed before slumping back into the water. Whatever just happened… argh, how embarrassing! Please never ever remind him of it, or he might go back to living with nature and Melusines again.
The dragon gazed out of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He saw as well, how the rainy weather from before left, now replaced by the bright sun. Next time he should be more careful about closing doors and whatnot, even if he ends up enjoying this occasion. His cheeks flushed once again at the thought of you, and he hid under the water. How can he ever look you in the eyes again...?
Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze
Nini!rant 2.0:
This is going to be a short one, just a quick explanation of the dragon anatomy. (What nobu explained to me)
So, it’s a vent right? Kinda like a vagina but without the clit and looking more like a hole. Then imagine two dicks coming out from the hole, both are curled towards the stomach and the one on top is a little shorter. The tip is rather pointy, with the form looking a little spiky as well? At the base, or the part that’s buried in the vent, it’s his skin colour, and towards the gland it fades into a clear blue, or even mystical purple. Around the veins it’d be slightly purple and it shines a little as if someone poured sparkles over it ✨
Instead of hair, he’d have scales, shiny blue ones (so pretty!!) that cover the entire area. It surrounds his vent and is quite sturdy when he isn’t erect, if you rub it long enough it will become softer. He can hide the two dicks inside his vent or take them out! And a fun fact or headcanon nobu told me was, dragons can only cum from one dick at a time, except they are reaaaally overstimulated.
This artist drew it basically how I imagine it - but they drew it without the vent
#sub character#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#sub neuvillette#sub neuvi#genshin impact neuvilette#neuvillette#neuvilette genshin#neuvillete x reader#neuvillete smut#neuvi#neuvillete#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x you#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette genshin#genshin neuvillette#genshin impact neuvillette#neuvillette genshin impact#kinktober 2024#kinktober#dragon smut#dragon anatomy#sub dragon#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n
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you and luke getting caught making out by Chiron or Mr D would be so good
| luke castellan x fem! reader
౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: kissing
౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: you and luke make out and lose track of time… (btw don’t mind all the fake names i give campers. love ya <3)
“When I kiss you, the whole world disappears.”
it was a sunny day at camp halfblood. the perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky. chiron decided that since it was a perfect day, he assigned all the head counselors to do an activity with their cabins. for instance, clarisse and her cabin went to the rock wall, annabeth’s cabin went to the forest to pick some flowers and weave them into flower crowns, etc.
chiron picked you and luke to teach archery, because he thought this particular activity needed two counselors. you were getting ready for the day, sporting the classic “camp halfblood” t-shirt and a pair of blue, baggy cargo jeans. you were putting your hair in a low ponytail, since you didn’t want your hair to get in your eyes, resulting in you killing someone.
as you tied your hair, you heard the cabin door open with a squeak because of how old it was. you took one last look at your hair before you looked at who entered. your eyes were met with a tall, curly haired, handsome, strong guy. any guesses who it is? it was your boyfriend, luke castellan.
“hey angel.” he said lovingly as he came further into the cabin. “oh hey luke. what are you doing?” you asked as you went back to do some final checks on your outfit in the body mirror next to one of the desks in the cabin. you suddenly saw luke figure walk up behind you and hug you from behind.
you both smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder and you put your hand on the side of his face (i hope that makes sense lol). he starts kissing your shoulder and eventually goes up to your neck and you close your eyes, with delight. luke keeps kissing you up until he reaches your cheek.
you then turn around so you’re facing him. you look from his beautiful eyes to his soft plump lips and you find yourself leaning forward. luke sees you leaning forward and so does he. as the gap between you two close, you start moving forward and luke starts stepping backwards until his back hits one of the cabin walls.
his tongue slips into your mouth going wild and free, exploring it. as both your tongues meet, your caught a little off guard and luke takes his opportunity to flip you over, so now your back is up against the wall. you can taste the strawberries and blueberries from this mornings breakfast on his lips. the sweet, yet bitter taste.
⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆
chiron is walking around, seeing how everyone is doing with their activities/classes. he walks to the archery range, only to find the campers are just sitting there. “my my! what are you all doing? why aren’t you doing archery?” he asked, very confused with some concern laced in his voice.
“counselor luke and counselor y/n aren’t here to teach us anything. we don’t know what to do.” a little blonde girl named elise said, shyly. chiron squinted and looked very confused. “why would they miss teaching? where would they be?” he mentally asked himself.
“hm. alright. i’ll go look for them and… you!” he said while pointing at a random guy who was sitting with everyone else, “you’re in charge. start having everyone get their bows and arrows ready.” chiron ordered before rushing off to find you and luke.
⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆
chiron burst through the doors of every cabin and found no trace of you or luke. he was on the last cabin and he barged in. and there he found you and luke against the wall. making out. “what is the meaning of this?!” he yelled. you and luke jumped apart from each other, scared at the sudden noise. as you both made eye contact with chiron he boomed, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TEACH CAMPERS ARCHERY 20 MINUTES AGO! AND HERE I FOUND YOU TWO KISSING? OUT RIGHT NOW.”
with an embarrassed look on both luke and your faces, you started walking towards the door, kind of sad that you missed 20 minutes of teaching campers. you felt so bad. you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard chiron, “you will both be cleaning all the cabins tomorrow as punishment.” luke seemed to accept his fate by nodding and slightly smiling.
you on the other hand, “ewww even the hygieia cabin?” you asked making a disgusted face. “for being the kids of the cleanest goddess, they sure are dirty and messy.”
⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。 ⋆୨♡୧⋆
౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ- i hope u liked this🫶🏻🫶🏻!! happy episode 4 dayyy <3
-jules🎀
⋆𖦹.✧˚taglist⋆𖦹.✧˚
@t0byisher3 @simrah1012 @mimisamisasa @lizziesfirstwife
#charlie bushnell#lukecastellan#percyjackson#child of hermes#hermes#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#pjo
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HEYOOO
so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying
Man he is so sweet
hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)
(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)
keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.
he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.
the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.
what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.
what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.
pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.
your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.
no, an instinctual feather did so.
you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.
there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.
“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.
sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.
no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.
“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.
keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.
your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.
“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.
keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.
you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.
“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.
he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.
keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.
“bad..” he gestured to himself.
“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.
soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.
you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.
kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”
keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.
but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.
the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.
your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.
it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.
#<3#tysm for the ask!!#i had a lot of fun with this one#finally writing after over a fortnight or so#back to uni work i go-#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami fluff#mha comfort#mha x gender neutral reader#my hero academia hawks#hawks my hero academia#hawks x gn reader#reverse comfort#keigo takami#boku no hero academia#mha hawks#takami keigo#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n
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THE SPACE YOU LEFT BEHIND
“Will you stay with me?” It’s like a wish waiting to be granted. “Forever.”
pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer! reader
summary: indeed, after suguru has defected, you’ve been trying to heal yourself and to not loose your mind. but healing ourselves is always harder than helping others, isn’t it? but don’t forget the goal of a sorcerer: protect humans at the risk of your life. and sometimes, death is closer that we think it is.
warnings: heavy angst, injuries, mention of death, blood, depression, eating disorder, pinning, mention of vomit, mention of cigarettes, mei mei, nanami & shoko make and appearance, mention of yaga & suguru, the lion king movie mentionned, jujutsu sorcerers’ life sucks, the story takes shape after suguru's defection, bittersweet/happy ending.
wc: 5,039
When you committed to the world of exorcism after middle school, you hadn’t realized just how much you had underestimated the darker sides of this life, where exorcists dedicate their lives to protecting humans — the primary source of the curses’ existence.
Suguru was right, wasn’t he?
It’s because of them that your classmates died. It’s also their fault that your best friend deserted school after massacring an entire village during a mission.
That put an end to all the memories you cherished so dearly, kept, and illustrated in a diary.
Sunny afternoons after class, eating ice cream with your friends Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. The setting sun signaling the end of a fulfilling day, leading into sleepless nights of sleepovers, where Satoru brought piles of sweets ready to infest your mouths with cavities as Suguru told scary stories about his hometown.
Or shopping days with Shoko, dragging the two boys along to test makeup products on them — the ones you’d never buy considering their outrageous prices.
Or those dangerous missions where you hunted curses, tracking them down to uphold your values: protecting the weak to maintain order and peace.
Such a beautiful motto, isn’t it?
A motto meant to help you, guide you, and support you so you wouldn’t lose sight of your goals.
So why did it fail so much that your once-beloved diary now sits open on your desk, collecting dust since the last time you opened it — not to add a new memory, but rather to look at the last ones you wrote.
Suguru’s departure left a void far more significant and meaningful than you had expected, didn’t it?
Life feels duller. The sky no longer seems as sunny — replaced by a grayish one, heavy with dark clouds threatening storms that mirror your emotions. If you had no tears left to cry, the rain would suffice to push you into your room after classes and missions, both as exhausting as your mind, consumed by draining thoughts.
The silence left by Suguru’s absence is far louder than all the times you screamed into his voicemail after he stopped responding to you. Of course, eventually, you gave up. Not out of choice.
Simply because he had blocked you.
And when changing SIM cards proved futile, you quickly realized through the automatic response that the number you sought was no longer in service.
It felt like all your regrets had come crashing down at once. But in truth, they had only arrived right on time.
If you had helped Suguru the way he needed, he wouldn’t have left.
He wouldn’t have been condemned.
You wouldn’t have stopped eating, stopped living your life the way you were told you should, or started losing your friends one by one.
Suguru was the first.
Shoko isn’t the second. The brunette seems to hold up much better — although the number of cigarettes she smokes daily has doubled — she doesn’t withdraw into herself the way you do. So, you’re sure you won’t lose her... right?
And as for Satoru… Will he be the next to leave, one way or another?
Or will it be you?
Either way, you’re losing yourselves. It’s been a while since you stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you last saw Satoru after Suguru’s departure.
Mr. Yaga confirmed that he hadn’t assigned him a single mission — the situation critical, delicate, and as fragile as a flower filled with poison that could make The Strongest falter at the slightest misstep or careless move.
He could very well be dead, and no one would know.
“So… you haven’t heard from him either?” Nanami murmurs, his deep, low voice almost swallowed by the muddy ground and heavy rain that poured as much as your overwhelmed mind.
You shake your head. “Not a single sign of life,” you mumble with the tip of your lips.
The two of you are on your way back to the school after a long mission assigned by your teacher, Yaga. It took you the entire day, but at least your mind feels lighter, despite the constant fatigue weighing on your shoulders like the weight of the world.
As the rain falls harder on you both, Nanami takes the initiative to open his black umbrella, holding it over your head as you stare at your mud-stained shoes.
“Almost three weeks.”
Your friend’s voice sounds distant, like hearing someone underwater.
Your head jerks up. “Hmm?”
“He hasn’t been out in almost three weeks,” Nanami repeats, his gaze fixed straight ahead. The crunching of your shoes and his on the gravel fills the silence before he continues. “Yaga gave him some time, but it’s getting harder to assign missions to others who are on Satoru’s level, you know.”
You don’t react to his words. Of course, he’s right.
Just as he’s wrong.
While Satoru’s behavior of shutting himself away without contact for so long isn’t responsible, his reasons remain entirely valid.
He just lost someone dear to him.
So, can you blame him?
But perhaps it’s time to bring your friend back, even if it means risking losing him — and yourself — in the process.
~~~~
You knock three times on Satoru’s dorm door.
A dead silence answers you.
You try again.
The same response.
So, you try the handle, testing whether it’s locked. However, it gives way under your hand, and a moment later, you step through the doorway into an unrecognizable environment.
Indeed, your best friend’s room — usually adorned with decorations and elements that so vividly reflected Satoru’s lively personality — is now unrecognizable. The windows, typically allowing sunlight to flood in and brighten the room, now shroud it in an ominous darkness. On the floor, clothes, likely dirty, are scattered at your feet. Satoru’s desk is covered in a visible layer of dust despite the dim light. And finally, on the bed you’ve always known, rests a long shape wrapped in thick blankets.
With his back turned to you, Satoru seems to be asleep from where you stand, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Even when you call his name, he doesn’t show any sign of awareness.
So, you close the door and kneel by the side of his bed.
“Satoru?” you murmur, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder covered by your friend’s indigo comforter.
The slight shiver running through him proves he’s very much awake.
But was his mind equally present?
“Satoru, were you sleeping?” you ask, shaking him carefully.
He doesn’t respond, not even with a gesture.
Your throat tightens in the face of a situation you’ve never had to face with him before.
How do you help someone who’s in the same situation as you?
In fact, it’s even worse.
Satoru is Suguru’s other half. Their symbiotic relationship always stopped you from seeing further with Satoru, leaving you questioning what he truly felt for Suguru. Because deep down, you knew you didn’t stand a chance. You’d never hold a place as important as Suguru’s in Satoru’s heart.
So, you chose to fill the void in your heart with love for him. It’s far from enough, but you’d rather not dwell on it. Unrequited love always ends this way, doesn’t it?
You straighten up just enough to lie down on the small remaining space on Satoru’s bed, carefully rubbing your friend’s arm to avoid startling him while offering the overflow of affection that aches to be reciprocated but, for now, can only warm the albino.
You don’t dare complain about the stale smell in the room, prioritizing Satoru’s comfort above all else. You drape your arm around him as he breathes in and out with a shaky rhythm, ignoring the cold of the room that freezes you just as much as the rain from earlier did.
Perhaps half an hour passes.
Maybe an hour.
Or more.
Or even just ten minutes.
The oppressive silence of the room quickly catches up to the sleep deprivation you so desperately need to cure. The cold vanishes. In the end, it doesn’t matter, right?
The only thing that matters is having Satoru in your arms, no matter what, his back pressed securely against you as your breaths synchronize, and your heartbeats merge in a way you’ve always dreamed of.
But when you flutter your eyes open, the absence of cold is quickly replaced by body warmth. Satoru’s thick comforter is draped over you, and his body is pressed against yours.
But what strikes you most is that he’s no longer facing away.
Satoru, his eyelids closed, breathes softly and slowly, the shadow of haunted dark circles staining his angelic face.
You’re about to sit up when Satoru, still without opening his eyes, slides a hand over your arm.
“Don’t move,” he mumbles.
And his raspy voice nearly gives you a heart attack.
There’s only one way for someone to have that effect.
And more than anything, the slight swelling and redness of Satoru’s pale eyelids confirm your suspicions.
Resting your head back onto the pillow, your forehead lightly brushes against Satoru’s.
“Can you look at me?” Your lips move in a near-inaudible whisper.
Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head.
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Satoru,” you insist, maintaining the same melancholic gentleness.
So you take the initiative to slowly raise your hands, bringing them toward his soft face to gently lift his eyelids. But what you see causes a crack in your heart, one akin to the shattering of ice under the raw heat of fire.
A small, wet pearl escapes from one of his eyes, deliberately rolling down his cheek, crossing his nose, and vanishing at the corner of his mouth.
Without a word, Satoru opens his eyes, and the embodiment of pain meets your distressed gaze.
His cerulean irises, usually alive with mischief, are as dark as an abyssal chasm. It’s as though a curse itself has taken hold of his gaze, condemning anyone who dares to meet his bloodshot eyes.
Your eyebrows slowly knit together, and with your heart already shattered, you decide to wrap your arms around him, pulling an unrecognizable Satoru against you as his chest releases a trembling breath and your neck grows damp from the occasional drops of warmth falling from his face.
“I’m here,” you mutter in his ear. “I’m here no matter what.”
Your eyelids close slowly, letting the tears you’d held back finally roll down your own cheeks.
Once again, perhaps ten minutes, half an hour, or even the entire afternoon passes before you finally decide to sit up, gently pulling an exhausted Satoru into your arms.
And to your surprise, he allows it.
You help him stand, supporting him with an arm around his body despite the height difference, and guide him to the bathroom. The decision had been made a while ago, even if your consciousness hadn’t fully caught up. After all, you would have wanted someone to do the same for you.
But aren’t we always better at caring for others than for ourselves?
Without protest — even though the idea of seeing Satoru naked might have made you blush last month — immersing him in the warm bath you’ve carefully prepared doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expected. You’ve never seen him without at least his boxers, so out of respect, you avert your eyes as the poor boy settles into the hot water.
You grab a bottle of shampoo lying around in Satoru’s bathroom, squeezing out a small amount to wash his angelic hair. Despite having likely neglected his hygiene as much as you have lately, your friend is in desperate need of someone to care for him.
Satoru, his eyes still closed, seems almost asleep under your slow, gentle, and careful movements.
It looks like you’re washing a real dead man.
But perhaps part of him has been dead ever since Suguru left? Perhaps a piece of him vanished the moment Suguru was gone?
The faint hum vibrating from Satoru’s lips reassures you that he’s still conscious. You take it as a good sign that he’s relaxing. Your nails softly scratch his scalp, and he lets out a low groan of satisfaction. The foam grows thicker as you continue to massage Satoru’s head.
You rinse the shampoo from his hair with warm water, droplets trickling down his perfect face.
One of those droplets slides just below his eye, so imperceptibly that you wonder if you’d have noticed it at all if you weren’t gazing at his face with almost religious reverence.
Using a washcloth, you pick up Satoru’s body wash this time, lathering it across his skin, applying slightly more pressure to tense areas in need of a soothing massage. Soft sighs escape his nose, signaling that you can continue without bothering him.
After several massages where you pay special attention to certain spots, you fetch a robe, wrapping it around Satoru’s now-clean body. He’s like new, more ready now to hold onto a semblance of consciousness.
But one thing that strikes you is that Satoru, despite being entirely naked and in such a vulnerable state of weakness, allowed you to care for him without opening his eyes even once.
With a faint, gentle smile, you guide Satoru back to his room, grabbing some clean, comfortable clothes for him while he collapses onto his bed under the weight of the world on his shoulders. You help him into each piece of clothing, his body too weak to move as usual, almost lifeless. Then, you lead him to your room, crossing the school’s corridors so he can rest in the clean and organized space you’ve managed to create after pulling yourself together following your own depressive episode of endless, self-destructive days.
Your room is a true haven — tidy, clean, and orderly.
And so your freshly made bed with its crisp sheets seems to call to Satoru. The softness of the mattress cradles him as you drape your immaculate comforter over him.
Like laying a deceased loved one to rest in their coffin, Satoru keeps his eyes closed, his face void of expression, yet with a weariness that seems to have lifted ever so slightly.
~~~~
“How long?”
“I already told you.”
“Liar.”
Satoru pushes the food tray toward you, the arm of the mechanical table brushing against your torso. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
You sigh, the exhaustion of the past few days weighing on you like a heavy, unpleasant rain.
“First of all, you just got back from a mission where you were inches from dying if Shoko hadn’t been there. Second, you refuse to tell me how long it’s been since you’ve eaten — unless it’s been a month — and now you’re saying you’re not hungry?”
Satoru, lying under the pristine white sheets of his infirmary bed, simply turns his head away. It’s as if he’s acting like a machine.
Mechanical movements, curt responses, and barely any signs of life.
During one of the recent missions assigned to him by Principal Yaga after weeks of absence, Satoru resumed his routine. He sleeps, does his missions, and returns to sleep in his room. Ever since you took the time to clean and organize his room, you haven’t exchanged more than a sentence. The only memory that still haunts you is the blood-red hue of Satoru’s eyes that night in his room.
The void left by Suguru has wreaked havoc.
And while you’ve managed to patch yourself up — or so you think — you’re now trying to help your friend in need. But how do you help someone who refuses to speak?
“And ‘I don’t know’ isn’t an answer,” you add in the face of his silence, rubbing your face, which feels warmer than usual. Perhaps it’s the heat of the room? December is a month where illness comes quickly. But it’s nothing, you reassure yourself.
“You’re flushed.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Both of you avert your gaze, equally annoyed and concerned with one another.
“When was the last time you even slept? You spend more time watching over my sleep and my meals than looking at yourself in a mirror. You look like a Halloween costume.”
Ouch.
You glance at your reflection in the mirror near the nurse’s desk, and despite Satoru’s harsh words, your state seems even worse than his.
You’ve lost weight lately. The dark hollows under your eyes mirror your grueling schedule, where you spend most of your day juggling missions, watching over Satoru, and helping the school with any task.
Like an escape, you’ve found any excuse to avoid being alone. Especially with yourself.
But isn’t that exactly what Suguru did? The poor guy had no one to talk to, and the one time he tried, you thought he was just exhausted from swallowing curses. That was when he broke down and sobbed in front of you.
The memory alone stings your eyes. And unfortunately for you, you’re not in any shape to hold back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.
You stand abruptly, turning your head away to avoid showing the cracks in your courageous facade to your best friend.
“Eat. I have a mission in half an hour. I’ll be back tonight.”
As you slip out of the infirmary, Satoru painfully sit up in his bed, opening his mouth to call after you, to say something. Anything. His words were harsh and cruel, while you’ve been patient with him, caring for him more than for yourself.
But he hates it.
Because you only remind him of what Suguru used to do. When he felt terrible, Suguru helped him despite his own pain, despite wanting to vomit up the curses he’d consumed or even die. Suguru cared about his appetite, just as you do now with Satoru. The same with his sleep, his recklessness during missions.
So he doesn’t want to lose you, at the risk of dying a second time.
~~~~
That same evening, you don’t return.
And Satoru notices immediately, because at bedtime, around 10 PM, you usually stop by his room — even more so now that he’s in the infirmary.
Missions take time. So Satoru reassures himself, thinking that you simply took longer and that by the next morning, you’d be by his side to check on him. He would apologize. He’d ask for forgiveness and try to understand the reason behind the instability in your voice before you left earlier.
Did he hurt you that much?
His train of thought is interrupted by urgent voices barking orders, and Shoko putting on her apprentice doctor’s coat as she grabs a spell manual on her way out, meeting Satoru’s confused gaze.
And he understands immediately who it’s about.
Despite his still weakened state and his inability to perform Reverse Curse Technique for some time now, Satoru pulls on his exorcist uniform, leaving his sunglasses on the bedside table, and follows Shoko and the team of medics heading toward a school car. But he swiftly grabs Shoko’s wrist.
If something happened to you, taking a stupid car would only lead to a certain death.
With a gaze as panicked as it is void, Satoru questions his friend.
“Mei Mei went to check on what happened,” Shoko murmurs gravely. “The mission was simple. She should’ve been back over five hours ago.” She points to the time on her watch.
1:20 AM.
Did he fall asleep while lost in thought? How had so much time passed since he noticed your absence earlier that night?
“And you think taking more time in this car is enough?” Satoru spits his words, his voice low but echoing nonetheless into the snowy night as flurries begin to fall around them. “Just tell me you want her dead now, then.”
Shoko glances at the waiting car.
“Then what do you suggest?” she asks, narrowing her eyes, scrutinizing her friend from head to toe before yanking her wrist back sharply. “Look at you. You can barely stand.”
“I can still teleport. You’re far more competent than these clowns,” Satoru replies in the same tone, grabbing her wrist again. “And let me remind you, we cannot lose her.” The warning in his voice sounds like a threat.
It’s only when Shoko finally relents that Satoru teleports them both after she gives him the location where Mei Mei last reported finding you. The pressure of the spell makes them feel like they’re being sucked through a narrow tube, or squeezed in a vice. When they finally arrive at your location, it’s with a pop sound, like a bubble bursting free.
Releasing Shoko’s wrist the very second they arrive, Satoru scans the surroundings — then freezes.
Mei Mei’s blue hair is bent over a body on the ground. In the dim light of the night, only the moon’s rays illuminate a pool resembling wine.
And Satoru would’ve prayed for it to be only wine.
He and Shoko rush toward Mei Mei, who steps aside to face them with a furrowed brow, her expression a foreboding omen.
“Internal bleeding,” she announces to Shoko.
The words ring like a gong in Satoru’s ears, now buzzing. His paralyzed body stands mere inches from you. Your half-closed eyes stare blankly into the void, your arms lying limply at your sides, and a streak of dried blood stains your cheek. Despite the presence of your friends, you don’t react.
Not even when Satoru says your name.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
And as many times as it takes before Shoko and Mei Mei push him back, as he struggles to try to hold you in his arms, his hoarse voice cracking, begging you not to leave him.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, Satoru Gojo, whose senses granted by his Six Eyes had long been dulled, awakens once again.
He hears your heart beating faintly. The pulse of your arteries, the successive waves of blood pushed by your struggling heart. Your shallow breaths slipping through damaged lungs. The warmth of your blood slowly leaking life away.
Please, no…
As long as it took for Satoru to recover a fraction of his powers, the same amount of time seems to pass while Shoko works quickly to stop your hemorrhaging.
He knows because he no longer hears the blood flowing out of your body. Your pulse has slowed, and though still weak, your heart beats with slightly more determination.
That determination, Satoru perceives as a flame.
A flame you refuse to let extinguish, because he knows you’re fighting not to pass on.
And if you no longer have the strength, Satoru will be the lighter forcing you to keep fighting. He will stay by your side as long as you need him.
And he will refuse to die a second time — unless it’s for you.
~~~~
A few days later.
The roles have reversed.
Satoru, fully recovered from his mission for a while now, devotes all his time to your care. He’s moved his belongings to the infirmary, where you remain recuperating. He insisted on pushing a bed right up against yours to monitor your sleep, your eating habits, and your overall well-being.
Every movement you make is instantly picked up by his Six Eyes.
Your survival after your mission was nothing short of a miracle for Satoru.
A prayer he made — and one that was answered.
“You tired?” he asks softly, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His cerulean eyes linger on your still-fresh bandages, and a bitter pang squeezes at his heart.
You shake your head despite the telltale dark circles under your eyes. “I’m feeling better.”
“Bored?” he guesses then, raising an eyebrow slightly, his tone tinged with amusement. Is he planning something?
A small smile tugs at your lips. “Got something in mind?” you reply, curiosity sparking enough to make you want to laugh genuinely.
Lying beside you in his own infirmary bed pressed against yours, Satoru gently takes your hand in his. He lifts it to chest level, absentmindedly playing with your fingers. “I could put on a movie for us if you’d like…”
“What kind of movie? If you even think about suggesting that cursed Terrifier again, I swear I’ll strang—”
Satoru bursts into laughter at your disgusted expression. His chest shakes with every sound, lifting the weight of any lingering pain in his heart.
“I was thinking more along the lines of the new The Lion King movie,” he says with a mischievous grin.
“Mufasa, you mean?” Your face lights up for a moment. “But the movie has just been released,” you add, frowning slightly. “We can’t go anywhere.”
“Who said anything about going somewhere?” He wraps one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer just before planting a chaste kiss on your temple — a gesture that nearly makes your lungs give out.
Somehow, Satoru always manages to surprise you.
Despite the movie’s exclusive release at cinemas, half an hour later you find yourself watching it.
Nestled against Satoru under some thicker blankets he brought, the two of you share snacks scattered across your laps. The only light in the infirmary is the soft glow of the film projector casting the movie onto a pristine wall.
Your cheek rests against Satoru’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat serving as the perfect lullaby to lull you to sleep. On top of that, his long fingers gently scratch your scalp, soothing you further into relaxation.
The moment feels so perfect you almost mistake it for a dream — but no.
Right now, it’s as if the depressive haze that had weighed down both you and Satoru has been blown away, replaced by a fleeting moment of happiness wrapped in the cocoon of this night.
Just like your feelings, the situation between you and Satoru is undefined and confusing. A shared closeness restored, mutual personal care, and a clear attachment to each other.
It seems like friendship, doesn’t it?
But then, why does your hand, resting on your friend’s chest, tremble at the thought of sliding around the back of his neck to pull him closer—close enough for your lips to finally meet his?
Feeling your trembling hand, Satoru shifts his attention away from the movie to look down at you. “Sweetheart?”
Your eyes meet his, drowning in the deep ocean of blue they hold.
With every passing second, you try to speak, to respond, to confess everything. To tell him everything. Yet, with your lips parted, all you can manage is a soft whisper:
“Nothing.”
~~~~
December 25th.
All of Tokyo Jujutsu High has gathered amidst the scents of warm food, the laughter of groups of friends, the unwrapping of gifts, and the feeling of family.
Yet, Satoru feels like something is missing.
This December 25th marks the first Christmas you, Shoko, and Satoru spend without Suguru.
So what’s the point of celebrating? What is Suguru doing right now? Is he spending such a special day all alone?
Alone, outside the school’s festive hall, Satoru stands bundled in a winter coat, snow as white as his hair delicately falling onto his frame. He’s leaning against a wall, as if that simple act could help him stay upright.
His throat tightens.
He wants Suguru back.
But he knows all too well that he won’t have him.
So Satoru doesn’t celebrate Christmas when the one source of his joy has vanished.
Inside the hall, you’re laughing wholeheartedly with a few friends, a glass of champagne in hand and a large scarf draped over your shoulders for warmth.
But amidst the small crowd, the one person who holds your heart is nowhere to be found.
Your smile slowly fades as your eyes frantically scan the room for Satoru. You excuse yourself hastily and begin to search — the hall, the restroom — before finally heading toward the door to the courtyard.
Almost sprinting, you step out into the biting December cold.
And there he is.
With measured steps, you move to stand beside him. He doesn’t budge, even as you gently wipe the dried tears from his face while he sniffles absentmindedly, his nose reddened by the sharp chill.
“Do you believe that he’s thinking of us right now?” Satoru murmurs, his voice rough and low.
“I’m sure of it,” you whisper softly in reply, pulling a tissue from your pocket and holding it to his nose so he can blow. A faint smile tugs at your lips as he thanks you with one last sniffle.
You’re about to put the tissue away when Satoru abruptly but tenderly pulls you into his arms, pressing you firmly against him.
“Satoru?” Your eyes search his, confused, as he leans his face as close to yours as possible, nearly sending your heart into overdrive when his long, slender nose brushes against yours.
“I love you,” he whispers, his tone carrying a small smile.
Those three little words leave you speechless, your lips parted in shock at the confession and the sincerity behind it.
It’s as if your entire being comes alive again, breaking free.
After so long without crying, it only takes those words to bring tears back to the surface. Salty streams trail down your cheeks as your face twists, trying to hold back sobs.
“I love you too,” you cry, your voice trembling all the same.
Satoru, his own smile tinged with fragility, wipes your face just as you did for him. His thumbs gently rub your cheeks in a bittersweet comfort.
And in a synchronized motion, your lips connect, pressing against each other with an intensity that makes your souls whirl like the wind does with the falling snow.
Every time your lips part to end a kiss or catch your breath, you find each other again in the next second, as if eternity had tried to keep you apart. The cold ceases to exist around you; the warmth of your finally united souls is enough to melt the ice that had formed within you since Suguru’s departure.
Reluctantly, you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes no longer shining with tears, but with love this time.
Neither of you pulls away from the closeness you share. Your bodies speak for you, the silence between you filled with mutual understanding.
Satoru clears his throat. “Will you stay with me?”
It’s like a wish waiting to be granted.
“Forever.”
tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422
@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar
@monokaix @moonlitwitchdaisy
a/n: hello everyone :)) this fic was special to write thh. it’s the one that came out of an episode of impostor syndrome where i just wrote without thinking. i’d been wanting to write angst about satoru for a loooong time, so here it is :) (why do i secretly hope i’ve made all of you cry?). anyway, we can finally breathe after big exams! i’ve never looked forward to the christmas vacations as much as this year, lmao. take care of your little faces <3
reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3
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「Picnic date with BNHA Boys」
⤷ Bakugou
he didn't like the idea very much at first; the thought of mosquitoes and the heat of the sun irritated him. but, seeing how much you want to do this and how excited it makes you, he ends up accepting it, however, it is you who does everything in the beginning; prepare food and drinks and choose a good place. he pretends not to like it at first but the place you chose is perfect; under a big tree near a small lake. the sun is not so hot and for the first time in a long time he feels whole and happy and carefree. so he just surrenders in that moment; eating with you, smiling and stroking your hair as you lay in his lap while you talk about anything that comes to mind.
⤷ Deku
you and he make all the food you bring on the picnic: the little sandwiches, the cupcakes, even the lemonade. you spend the whole morning in the kitchen, laughing and messing around and exchanging kisses until everything is ready and packed in a basket so big you have to carry it along, one of your hands and one of his on either side of the handle.
it's a sunny day, the kind when the sky is so blue it hurts to look at it for too long. the two of you lie down on his blanket and feed on grapes as he tries to convince you that the cloud to your left looks like an elephant (you're not convinced).
⤷ Kirishima
he doesn't mind going to parks where there are a lot of people or in quiet places where it's usually just the two of you; he will go anywhere with you. he likes to peel an orange for you and he always asks something like "is it good?" looking at you for a few seconds with a smile on his face before returning his gaze to the orange he is peeling for himself. he also likes to play something with you or just listen to you talk, but at the end of the day he likes to lie on the blanket and close his eyes, using one arm as a pillow while the other he gently strokes your hair or your sides while you lay your head on his chest.
⤷ Todoroki
he likes to go to large, quiet places that are close to a river or lake; the noise of the water and the birds singing in the sky just makes the climate and atmosphere more perfect and pleasant. you two take everything you like; fruits, cakes, sweets, juices or soft drinks but if you see a fruit on a tree close to where you are, he won't think twice about putting you on his shoulders so you can reach and pick it up. he washes the fruit for you in the river or lake and then you spend the rest of the afternoon lying on the blanket looking at the clouds; your head on his chest as he gently caresses your sides, wishing this moment would never end.
⤷ Denki
having a picnic with you is one of his favorite things; he loves and appreciates every moment by your side and makes a point of keeping those moments deep in his heart and also on his phone. he likes to film and take pictures of the two of you preparing food, walking hand in hand, sitting on the grass, eating or talking.. he likes to record these moments so he can watch them again when he is sad or missing you , or to post on instagram.
⤷ Tamaki
you and he would have the most beautiful and aesthetically pleasing picnics ever. with delicious foods and sweets that you bought at your favorite bakery. and you also take a lot of pictures that you two post on instagram or just to keep for yourselves.
but it's not really about how pretty everything looks or the social media posts. picnics with your boyfriend are always so adorable because you get to relax and stop thinking about anything else. the two of you just sit and talk and eat for a while. it's a nice change of pace that makes your heart settle in your chest.
⤷ Shinsou
no one knows you better than he does, so when he suggested you guys go on a picnic on one of his rare days off, you knew it was his way of trying to relieve all the stress you two had been feeling lately. it's so sweet and soft the feeling of lying on a blanket in the sun with your favorite boy as he plays with your hair and the two of you share a tangerine. it's a healing time for the two of you to reconnect and de-stress from the week just passed. he tells you all the gossip from work and you tell him about your two coworkers who are secretly dating.
⤷ Hawks
you and he are always taking videos and pictures of you to watch when you're apart. he's so bubbly and sweet all the time because he finally gets to spend time with you without worrying about work (no matter how much he likes it) or anything else. he can just chill with his favorite person.
you usually have your picnics at the end of the day, almost like dinner; after eating you lie down on the blanket while looking at the sky, he turns his face and smiles slightly as he runs his finger along your jaw, enchanting you with how beautiful you are. and then you walk around the park, greeting all the ducks and squirrels you pass. and he also takes a lot of pictures of you and the animals because to him, that's the cutest thing in the world.
⤷ Dabi
he only agrees to go if it's in private places, where it's just the two of you. he doesn't talk much, he just eats while listening to you say whatever you want; he gives you advice or encourages you to talk more while looking for more candy in the basket you brought. he always says he won't stay long but seeing your smile and how calm the atmosphere is, he changes his mind. he leans against a tree and pulls you towards him, you lie on your back on his chest and he gently caresses your waist or belly while you are talking about anything or are silent; just sharing a soft, comfortable atmosphere that none of you want to leave.
⤷ Shigaraki
you're the kind of couple that brings games with you on your picnic. you spend a lot of time talking and eating and the other time you two spend a lot of time playing on your nintendo; relaxing games like animal crossing or competitive games like mario kart. it feels so good while you are sitting outside in your favorite park surrounded by all your favorite delicious foods in such a calm and pure atmosphere.
#bnha imagines#mha imagines#bakugou x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou fluff#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki imagine#shigaraki fluff#dabi x reader#dabi imagine#dabi fluff#shinsou x reader#shinsou imagine#shinsou fluff#tamaki x reader#tamaki imagine#tamaki fluff#denki x reader#denki imagine#denki fluff#todoroki x reader#todoroki imagine#todoroki fluff#kirishima x reader#kirishima imagine#kirishima fluff#deku x reader#deku imagine#deku fluff#hawks x reader
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Good Old Days
Summary: You fall asleep by the window one night and wake up to the doorbell ringing. You did not expect it to be Togame Jo of all people. After all, you guys had drifted apart some time ago.
Pairing: Togame Jo x fem!reader
Follows the anime. Not proofread </3
wc: 2.1k
You sat on the windowsill with a steaming cup of tea in hand, watching the lights below slowly turn on one by one. You had turned off the lights in the living room, leaving one table lamp on. This has been your evening routine for a while now, spending a few hours alone at your windowsill, big and cosy enough to put a cushion behind your back and a blanket on your legs with a teapot of green tea or milk tea on the small round table.
You watched the street down below come to life as the sky grew darker and the neon lights grew brighter. This was the hour you found this place most interesting. With the working day over, the pubs and bars thrummed with vibrance—not something you got to see during the day. Usually, there were a lot of people in yellow jackets with the Lion's Head logo on the back, but today, not a single one of them was to be spotted, given that they had challenged Bofurin to a fight.
You were supposed to be there in Ori, watching your team fight, but you didn't go. You glanced at the door where your bright yellow jacket hung on a cat hook. You spent most of your time in solitude these days, avoiding every member of the Lion's Head. Especially Togame Jo, your best friend. You hadn't stripped him of the title even though it had been a while since you talked to him.
Sometimes, he still approached you when he saw you. He'd push his tinted glasses down on that beautifully sculpted nose and walk towards you like he had all the time in the world, the thuck-thuck of his geta so annoyingly loud. He'd bend a little bit so he was face to face with you, his droopy emerald eyes and hypnotic voice managing to make your skin flush and your heart race even now. He'd tell you he hasn't seen you around and ask if you're avoiding the members because you're 'scared'. Each time, you'd roll your eyes and tell him you had better things to do.
Togame had changed a lot ever since Choji had become the top dog, which caused the whole of Lion's Head to undergo a drastic change. You'd been a part of the group long before Togame and Choji joined. This wasn't what you wanted to be a part of. You still missed the old Lion's Head, where you and Togame lazed on sunny rooftops together after training. You'd braid his hair for him, and he'd often stop by your place to get patched up, and before you knew it, you had fallen hard.
You sighed and rested your head against the window pane. It was raining. Speaking of rain, it was a rainy day sometime after Choji had become top dog when you and Togame drifted apart.
You stood under an umbrella, watching Togame throw punch after punch at the man on the ground. He got up at last and ripped the yellow jacket off the bloodied man. He silently made his way to you, discarding the jacket in a trash can. You raised the umbrella so he'd be sheltered from the rain. Noticing your efforts to go on tiptoes, he held the umbrella for you.
You watched the former Lion's Head member bleed on the ground unconsciously. Your fist clenched to your side as you went on staring until a pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes.
"Head up in the clouds?" Togame asked. You shook your head and cleared your throat.
"I want to ask you something, Jo."
"Oh? Go on."
"Would you do the same if it was one of your friends or me?" You asked. He visibly froze. The pitter-patter of the rain grew heavier as you awaited his response, "Do you even care about the members anymore?"
Togame's grip around the handle tightened. His gaze averted away from your face and to the unconscious man. He spoke at last, "There is no place for the weak in Lion's Head. Why are you worried about it, though? You're strong enough, so don't worry your pretty little head-"
"What if I wasn't?" You interrupted, "You wouldn't hesitate to throw aside our friendship and all that we've built up, wouldn't you?"
You swore you saw a flash of hesitance strike his face. You were well aware he had the same feelings you held for him. It was obvious in the way he unconsciously jumped in front of you during fights, the way he looked at you for longer than he needed to, and the way he wandered to your apartment every night so you could pamper him and take care of his wounds.
"The same rules apply to everyone." He said firmly.
You nodded and stepped out of the umbrella's shelter. Togame made a move to follow after you, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest, "Sorry, Jo."
Without waiting for a response, you left him there. It wasn't that you were upset he'd kick specifically you out of the group if you messed up. You couldn't bear standing with this version of Togame. It was almost painful watching him give up his image for someone else.
You longed for the good old days when you'd sit on the sunny roof with colourful popsicles while sharing giggles and secret lovesick glances.
You had dozed off with the cold cup of tea in your hand when you heard the bell ring. You glanced at the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall to see it was only eight. You got off the windowsill and set the cup on the table. You checked the peephole, surprised when you saw Togame of all people. He looked down at his feet with sad eyes, the yellow jacket bunched in his fist. He raised his hand to knock again but chose against it, turning around instead.
You unlocked the door and opened it before he went to the elevator. He slowly turned around, his shoulders slightly slouched. You took in his disheveled state. His hair was out of the braid he wore at all times, and his glasses were missing. He had shoe prints on his shirt from being kicked.
"Am I still welcome inside?" He asked.
You're always welcome here.
You stood aside and held the door open for him, "Come in."
Togame stepped into your cosy little apartment, taking his time observing what was new as he went over to the couch. He noticed the pillow and blanket on the windowsill. Emerald eyes shifted over to you in the kitchen, not separated by any wall, "If I knew you were asleep, I wouldn't have come."
"It's alright, I just fell asleep by the window." You replied with your back to him as you set a kettle on the stove for green tea.
He sat in silence, looking down at his feet, with the only sounds being metal and glass clinking. His entire body ached, but he didn't go home. Instead, he wanted to come see you. After the fight with Bofurin today, the Lion's Head would revert to what it once was, but he didn't want that to happen without you. It wouldn't be the same without you following him everywhere.
Your absence all this time weighed heavy on him. Sometimes, he'd catch you wandering around with your hands in the pockets of your jumper, but he usually didn't have the heart to approach you. If he did happen to approach, he wasn't able to say what he'd been wanting to. Where have you been? How are you? I miss you. I'm sorry. Let's hang out together again. Just like the good old days.
He heard you set a cup of green tea on the table and looked up to see you go to your bedroom, returning shortly with a little box he knew all too well. It was the cardboard box where you kept the first-aid supplies. He picked up the steaming cup of green tea to keep his hands from fiddling.
You sat on the floor by the coffee table and opened the flaps, taking out a roll of bandage and a bottle of antiseptic. You glanced at the bright yellow jacket thrown to his side and then up at his face.
"We lost?" You asked, averting your gaze again, taking his free hand to clean his knuckles with the cotton swab dipped in antiseptic. He hissed when you dabbed the antiseptic on his knuckles.
"We did." He replied, watching you patch his hands. Your moonlit features made his heart stir, and he wanted to make you look at him so he could study every inch of your face he had already memorised.
"But it was worth it." He added after some time.
You stopped and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, "How so?"
He opened and closed his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing as he searched for words. He cleared his throat at last, "I won't be taking off jackets anymore. After the fight with Bofurin... I realised how much Choji was struggling, and instead of facing it, we brought misery to the entire group. We're going to fix things– Choji and I." He brushed your hair out of your face, fingers grazing your cheek. Your eyes widened at him, "We're going to gather everyone and apologise tomorrow. But before that, I wanted to talk to you."
"Yeah?" You forced yourself to look away from his deep green eyes and motioned to the hand he held the cup in. He shifted the cup to the other hand so you could clean his knuckles. His hand was warm to the touch, thanks to the teacup. From what he told you, you knew Lion's Head would go through a change again, this time a good one.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ruined the Lion's Head you loved." You could tell he tried not to let his voice crack, "To answer your question from back then... I've removed jumpers more than I can count, kicked away members more than I can count... but you," he cradled your face ever so gently in his shaking hands, "I could never do the same to you. I could never kick you away from me, even though that's what happened. I want to keep you close to me, right against my chest."
"Jo..." You whispered, your heart thumping wild at his words. You leaned into his touch and smiled softly, "I was never mad at you in the first place. I'm sorry for distancing myself."
He moved to the floor beside you, sitting on his knees. He shook his head, "I don't blame you for that. It's not your fault."
You wrapped your arms around his torso, taking him by surprise. Your arms tightened around him, your ear resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat slowly rise as his hands hovered behind you. He finally put his arms around you and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair. He missed the smell of your shampoo. He'd almost forgotten how small you were against his frame.
He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, "Can I kiss you?"
You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you nodded, leaning closer, peering into his droopy olive eyes, his breath fanning your lips. His lips grazed yours in a just-there kiss. Like Togame, his kiss was lazy and slow, too, taking his time to feel your plush and warm lips. You pushed into him, fully pressing your lips against his. You were sitting in his lap now, with his hand slowly tracing up your spine.
Togame pulled away, out of breath from the brief kiss. He couldn't help but smirk at you as you stared at him through thick lashes, your skin warm to the touch. "Finally," he murmured.
"Finally." You smiled. He nuzzled under your neck, making you giggle when his eyelashes brushed your skin.
"Alright, more of this later," You smacked his arm playfully and got off his lap, "Go take a shower, and I'll see to the rest of your wounds after that. I have clothes that'll fit you."
"Thank you," he smiled.
Warmth buzzed under your skin as you watched Togame get up and make his way to the bathroom. The kiss made you feel woozy, and you put a hand on your chest to feel your heartbeat. You got your good old days back, and even better, you had the person who shone the brightest in your memories of the good old days.
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Wishes Best Left Unanswered
(A/N: ITS THAT TIME OF THE YEAR 😉😏😏 HAPPY BDAY OF BDAYS TO MY BESTIE @philistiniphagottini !!!!!!!! I present to you this short and (bitter)sweet fluff with your ever beloved gege Bladie)
No warnings, maybe just a tad bittersweet but overall fluffy like a cloud ☁️
Blade sometimes wonders whether or not you truly are aware of the sins that mark his very being. Or whether you do know and are simply that ignorant.
Because while he is nothing more than a sharp blade, you are but a soft cloud that floats in the sky, a wisp of a warm breeze echoing through a meadow of days long past. You are softness, and he is anything but.
You have no reason being so close to him, not when his edges are so sharp that they could cut into your pretty skin. But you still cling onto his arm and nuzzle against his side, as though he is harmless, and you smile up at him to ask him what he wants to eat.
Nothing, he wants to say. He is not becoming of such human needs; he is not worthy of your attention, or your affection.
Yet you give it to him freely, without restraint, as though you have an endless spring of love dwelling within your soul, a fountain that will never dry up, or an oasis in the barest desert.
So he simply points at some random snack at the stall you both stopped in front of, and with a sunny smile, you reach into your backpack to pull out your wallet. But you splutter when he swiftly steps in front of you, placing a large wad of credits before the baffled stall-owner and grabbing your drink (that's no doubt as sweet as you) to put it in your hand.
You smile so brightly, it hurts his eyes. And when you stretch on your tiptoes to give a swift peck to his lips, the taste of sugar and peaches lingers on his tongue, so strong that a small part of him desires a swig of strong, black coffee- especially since the snack he randomly chose was also just as sweet.
But the rest of him seeks out your warmth, your softness, your sweetness, and he is willing to risk his life and limb if it means you will embrace him in your arms once more, scolding him on his carelessness while you dab healing salve on wounds that he knows will already heal.
"Why do you stay with me?" he asks you one night, as the two of you lay together on the overly plush mattress in the hotel room Kafka managed to secure for the night. "You are a small, soft thing. With one wrong whisper of the mara, I could destroy you."
You hum, nuzzling your face further into his chest. "But you won't. I guess I just trust you that much."
"...You shouldn't."
"Probably...? But I do." You lean over him and gently cup his cheek in your palm. "Even when I know you carry the strength to rip me in half, I know you'd do anything but."
And when you kiss him, he knows, deep down in his soul, that you speak the truth.
Blade knows that he must seek death, now more swiftly than ever. But when you lay in his arms, he cannot help but wonder if eternity would be so bad if you were there by his side, making the pain just the slightest bit sweeter.
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A/N: once again NAGA HAPPY BDAYYYY!!!! YOURE GETTING ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE GRAAAVE 🥳🥳🥳
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firewatch | day 04
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john price x gn!reader wc; 4.6k summary; maybe you shouldn't complain about having nothing to do, or some idiot tourists will change that
haha yeah it's been three months, whoopsie. started hating writing for a while there, but i'm better now lol. pls enjoy, this series is a labour of love 💕
you severely underestimated how fucking tedious this would be.
honestly, you thought you could handle it. all you have to do is look out the window, take note of the weather every now and then, fuck around for the rest of the day, then rinse and repeat for a few months – and you're getting paid, to top it all off.
sounds easy enough.
you look outside, no smoke. you check the weather, it's sunny. two hours later, no smoke and not a cloud in the sky. six hours later, still no smoke, and, would you believe it, it's still clear blue skies and suddenly three days have gone by and somehow you're going stir crazy in the middle of a beautiful state park where most people would go to cure their cabin fever.
it's one thing to be left completely alone with your thoughts for months and months on end, but when you're so adamant about avoiding said thoughts, it turns out there really isn't much else to do.
john was right then, you suppose. people only ever take this job if there's something wrong with them.
well, you weren't completely alone. you take a sip of your tea, lukewarm by now, and turn your eyes to the radio next to you. john isn't bad company, truthfully he's probably the only reason you haven't gone completely insane yet. it makes you wonder how he possibly does this every year, with no other–
"fuckin' hell, is that fireworks?"
john's sudden exclamation startles you mid-sip of your tea, a fit of coughs wracking your body when you accidentally inhale some. you're about to scold him for scaring the shit out of you, but his voice comes through the radio again before you can start.
"out your west window, have a look." he grumbles, low and irritated.
you twist your neck to look, wiping the remnants of your tea from your face with one hand as the other puts the mug down on your desk. your eyes narrow at the sight of the colourful sparks and smoke in the air. "shit, i see them. that's super illegal, right?"
"illegal, and just flat out stupid." john replies, the frustration in his voice rumbling even deeper than usual. "you're gonna need to get down there and stop 'em."
"is…" you blink as another firework explodes above the treeline, "...is that really my job?"
you hear him huff on the other end. "your job is whatever i say it is, rookie. no rangers nearby to call, it's just you'n me out 'ere."
"great." you mumble dryly, casting a mournful glance at the half empty mug of tea sitting on your desk. "so, what do i do? kick their asses?"
"if ya like," john replies in a chuckle, "just make sure they won't come back, and confiscate the fireworks."
"aye aye, captain." you raise your hand in a mock salute entirely for your own amusement, and though he doesn't respond, you hear the click of his radio and an intake of breath as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. you shake off his odd reaction and turn away to look over your fire finder at the various trails and paths. "so… how do i get down to the lake?"
"the trail north of your tower should take you." he says, prompting you to pull out your own map and quickly make a note of the trail he mentioned. it looked straightforward enough, a slightly meandering path through the forest leading to the clearing around the lake. "there's a shale slide along the way, so grab some rope. should be in one of your boxes."
your gaze finds said boxes exactly where you'd left them on the floor beside your desk, partially unpacked but still mostly untouched. you sigh and get on your knees, cursing your previous laziness as you rummage through them one by one. it's a mess of random supplies; a few boxes of matches, a candle or three, an old lamp that looks like something a coal miner would use, even a few rat traps that you keep a mental note of for future reference.
"got it." you announce, only a minute or two of searching later, standing again as you hook one of the clips onto your belt loop and let the rope coil hang there. "so you know this park pretty well, huh?"
john hums in agreement, and in the background you hear something that sounds like the door opening and closing, and then the buzz of the wind under his words. "this area, yeah. been doin' this quite a few years now. plus, i'm the one who drops off supplies at your tower."
"oh, so that's your handwriting on the boxes?" you grin, looking back at the boxes that still lay strewn across your floor as you grab your light bag and head out of your own tower. "maybe you should work on that. shit's barely legible."
"i'll make a note." he chuckles, and the conversation between you paired with the lovely scenery as you descend the stairs almost lets you forget about the reason you're going out in the first place.
unfortunately, your reprieve is interrupted by the echo of another firework in the distance, louder now that you're outside. the colourful sparks are still half visible over the treetops against the late afternoon sky, and you frown at the display.
you find the trail to the lake fairly easily, and cast a glance over at john's tower before it's blocked by the trees, just as yet another bang scares the birds.
you scoff as you watch them fly away, narrowing your eyes at the faint traces of smoke still visible in the sky. "can you hear those from over there?"
"just about." john answers, an amused kind of suspicion is his voice. "why?"
"oh, no reason. but if you happen to hear any screaming, do me a favour and ignore it." you try to disguise the grin in your voice, but you can't help the laugh that slips out when your heart john's rumbling chuckle through the radio.
"i'll tell the police it must've been the foxes."
another airy laugh escapes you at his words. john does seem to have a way of improving your mood, even when it had been decidedly soured by the morons threatening to set the forest alight. and, honestly, it’s difficult to stay annoyed when you’re surrounded by shafts of golden afternoon sun breaking through the canopy of leaves, and the soft rustling of the breeze through the branches.
the forest feels almost dream-like in this light.
you’d mostly stuck to the southern trails on the handful of walks you’ve taken over the last couple days, taking to avoiding the lake since john told you it was somewhat of a tourist hotspot. it’ll be nice to see a new area of the park, you think, even if you’re only going there to yell at some people.
a twig snaps ahead, just off the path in the underbrush to your right, and you pause.
a dear trots into the patch of sunlight that falls through the trees to the centre of the worn trail, and it pauses too. you stare at it, and it’s deep black eye stares right back. it’s beautiful, you can just about think to yourself, your awe keeping you frozen in place.
and then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it’s gone.
"woah." you murmur, still gazing at where it disappeared into the trees. a smile pulls at the corners of your lips as you click the button on your radio again. "a huge deer just crossed the path in front of me."
a moment passes before john answers, a hint of a teasing laugh on his breath. "they do live out here, love."
you click your tongue, rolling your eyes to yourself as you step over a branch to begin walking again. "alright smartass, some of us don't spend ninety percent of our lives in the middle of the woods."
"i'd say it's more like sixty." he chuckles in response, wiping the faux annoyance from your face with ease. "what did it's antlers look like?"
you quirk an eyebrow and cast a look back over your shoulder at the trees where the deer had gone, but the point of his question still flies over your head. "uh, normal?"
another rumbling chuckle comes through the static before john adds, "which way did they point?"
"oh…" you hum, sidestepping a leafy shrub growing over the path as you think. "to the sides? like, outwards, I guess?"
"probably an elk then, not a deer."
you smile, somewhat impressed, but you're not exactly surprised. for whatever reason, john does seem like the type to know that kind of thing. "that's actually pretty cool. how’d you know that?"
"the informative poster provided by the park, which i understand is in both of our towers." he replies, a sense of smug amusement lifting his voice, which earns another eye roll from you that he'll never see.
"right, right. i definitely read that…" you mutter, which earns you a lighthearted scoff from john.
"did you at least read the one about the poisonous plants ‘round here?" he adds, and you grimace stepping over a ditch in the trail because, well, you know you should've, but there's only your own laziness to blame for ignoring it.
you clear your throat, stifling your grin as you answer in a decidedly unconvincing tone, "...yes–"
"christ alive…"
"–but, just to be safe, i'm not gonna touch any plants, so i don't have to worry." you continue – and as if on cue, a tall nettle waves in the breeze into your path, and you're only narrowly able to dodge it before it can brush your skin. you tut at the plant, like it can understand you, and it almost feels as if the park itself wanted to prove you wrong.
you'll keep that close call to yourself, you decide. what john doesn't know can't hurt him, right?
"i'm gettin' grey hairs talkin' to you." john mutters, and you can so clearly picture the disappointed shake of his head that no doubt accompanied his reply.
"you don't already have grey hairs?" you tease, unable to stop the laugh that comes through your words.
"oi, i'm not that old!"
"i know, i know," you chuckle, "but you do sound like a guy who's smoked a pack a day for twenty years."
"more of a cigar man, myself." he pauses, and you can hear the wind pick up in the background when he doesn't take his finger off the button. "not a habit you can keep up out here though, unfortunately."
"you could if you wanted, then we'd both have a fire to watch." you reply, your smile easy now, like you're talking to an old friend rather than someone you met three days ago.
"you're full of good ideas, aren't ya?"
the conversation dies down again after that, a comfortable atmosphere replacing it. the sun has gotten slightly lower in the sky since you'd started walking, and while it wasn't getting dark yet, it would be soon. wandering around the forest at night was possibly the last thing you wanted to be doing, so you'd better hurry this up.
thankfully you're not walking for much longer before you come to a break in the trees. the trodden path you'd been following gives way to the rocky ground, and just ahead you can see the sudden drop off that you assume must be what you're looking for.
you come to a stop at the edge, and gaze down at the steep descent in front of you.
"hey, i found the slope." you announce, clicking the talk-lock button on your radio so your hands are free to start unfurling the rope. your eyes drift to the slope despite how hard you try to keep them on what your hands are doing, and a spark of anxiety shoots through you as you look over it. "am i really going down this?"
"unless you wanna take the long way."
"i don't… but that's gotta be, like, a fifteen foot drop." you grimace at the sharp stones making up the ground below, your hands twirling the rope nervously between them. suddenly you weren't feeling so confident about this.
"that steep?" he sounds surprised when he asks, maybe even slightly concerned. "s'been a while since i've gone that way, must've had a landslide at some point…"
you seriously would've preferred he kept that thought to himself, because now there's an undeniable feeling, right at the forefront of your mind, that this was not going to end well for you.
"landslide. right." you murmur flatly. "that doesn't fill me with optimism."
if john's at all worried about this like you are, he does a fantastic job of hiding it. his voice is unshakably confident when he responds, "you'll be fine, just make sure your clips are tightened."
you sigh, hesitant to continue, but proceed to tie one end of the rope and loop it into the clip on the anchor point just before the drop off – a sturdy looking rock that you sincerely hope isn't going anywhere – and internally you debate over just cutting your losses and turning back, but considering how high the fire risk is right now, there's no way your conscience will let you delay getting to the lake.
you sigh, giving the rope an experimental tug to make sure it really is secure, which it does appear to be, before throwing the rest of it down the slope.
you really don't want to do this, but unfortunately, you really have to.
"alright, i'm going down. if i die it's your fault." you grumble, hearing a muffled chuckle from john as you take the rope firmly in both hands and tread backwards over the edge of the slope.
you only get two steps from the top before you hear the rope creak. the sound brings the taste of bile to the back of your throat, but you do your best to swallow it down. it's probably an old rope, a weird noise doesn't mean anything – it's the same as the noises your tower makes, right? old things creak, that's just what they do. no need to panic.
it's not like you have much of a choice. you're already suspended by it, and there's no turning back now. your palms start to sweat.
"don't do that." you scold the twine under your breath, willing the inanimate object to hear you. "don't make weird noises."
one more step and the rope creaks again, much louder this time and significantly more worrying. it sends a cold bolt of panic up your spine that you don't get to react to before you hear the unmistakable sound of fibres snapping. "wait– no no no no–!"
you vaguely hear john call your name, but it's muffled by your cut off shout as the rope snaps in half and sends you free-falling down the slope.
time seems to slow as you watch the rest of your rope get further away, your wide eyes meeting the vast blue of the sky above with only one thought on your mind.
this is gonna hurt.
a heavy thud reverberates through your skull when you hit the ground. hard. the impact knocks the air from your lungs and forces a strained whine from your lips. jagged stones dig into your skin through your clothes, only adding to the pain already radiating from your upper back.
john calls your name again, his voice a little more frantic this time, you note through the pain fogging your mind. "sitrep– uh, talk to me, what's happened?"
"ugh, shit…" another groan leaves your chest as you push yourself up onto your elbows, attempting to blink away the dark spots that float in your vision. "my fucking rope snapped. fell down the slope…"
"shit." he hisses. "you broken?"
"what? no," you mutter through a deep intake of breath, finally gathering the strength to sit up fully with a hand attempting to soothe the ache between your shoulders, but it doesn't do much to help. "my back just really fuckin' hurts…"
"right…" he murmurs, letting the silence hang between you for a moment too long before continuing. "the rope snapped?"
"yeah… made some fucked up noises and then broke clean in two." you send a withering glare to the other end of your rope, still hanging tauntingly from the top of the slope with a distinct air of mockery you didn't know an inanimate object could be capable of giving off.
standing requires a lot more energy than you currently have in you, but the distant sound of a firework reminds you again why you're even out here – so with a laboured grunt, you push yourself upright through the sharp ache in your back and brace yourself on your knees as your vision spins.
you hear john sigh absently over the wind on his end. "i'm sorry, this is my fault. i should'a checked the supplies 'fore i dropped 'em off at ya tower, i would'a noticed–"
"john, hey, it's fine, okay?" you interrupt his rambling before he can get too far into his own head, and frown to yourself. "but i'm not getting back to my tower that way…"
"there's– there's another path back, from the lake." his voice is quieter than usual, and he stumbles over his words – something so incredibly unlike him, it has you on edge from such a small change.
you hum, looking back up at the other end of your rope with a disdainful sigh as you brush the rest of the gravel from your pants. "as long as there's no more abseiling, i think that'll work."
john doesn't say anything more, which has you concerned, but you decide not to push it. he's clearly cut up about what happened, even if you don't completely get why, and you get the impression that moving on from the subject would be best for both of you.
the way the small valley is shaped leads you easily to the continuation of the trail, and before long the rocky ground gives way again to softer forest floor. you find yourself in another larger clearing, open enough that you can see ahead where the path disappears between more rocks and overgrown shrubbery. the lake must be nearby now, you think, because the distant sound of voices reaches your ears periodically on the wind.
the radio silence from john lingers in the air, heavy and stifling despite the great distance between you. the solitude leaves you with your thoughts, wondering why he was acting so responsible for something so beyond both of your control, and though you've resolved to leave the topic alone, you really can't seem to stop thinking about it.
another bang of a firework echoes around the clearing and you regret complaining about the tedium of the last few days. this was not what you wanted.
you drag your aching body across the rest of the clearing and brush a low-hanging branch out of your way as you make your way through the overgrowth between you and the lake. a clunking sound catches your attention, and you turn your gaze downwards to an empty beer can, followed by another further down path, then a few more, and a few more.
"holy shit, what is wrong with these people…" you mutter through gritted teeth, crouching down to gather as many as you can into your bag as you go – with only a short grumble at the pain it causes your back.
with a deeply exasperated sigh, you sling your bag back over your shoulder just as you come to the end of the trail and the bushes give way to the clearing of the lake. there's a small, raised island in the centre, where you can see the group lounging by the water with their music turned all the way up.
god, could these people get any more obnoxious?
you take a second to steel yourself, because this was not going to be easy, before cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting, "hey!"
they ignore you. of course they do.
"hey!" you yell louder this time, and thankfully they acknowledge you by finally turning off their music and glaring at you from their perch. you're probably supposed to handle situations like this with decorum, but as a result of the last hour or so your patience has worn incredibly thin, and you really can't find it in you to care. "fireworks? really? are you guys completely fucking stupid?"
they scoff and look incredulously between each other, before who you assume to be the ringleader yells back, "what the hell is your problem?"
"yeah, it's a free country!" one of the others adds.
"that's not how that works…" you sigh to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose and willing yourself to keep at least some modicum of composure. "you kids better get the fuck outta here! right now!"
they scoff again, and pointedly turn away from you. good god, the urge to throw rocks at them was getting harder and harder to fight.
"ignore them, it's just some random fucking loser creeping on teenagers…" the ringleaders comment is only just audible from where you're standing, but you do hear it, and it only serves to fuel your temper.
"what? no, i'm–" you falter for a split second, debating the consequences of the lie you're about to tell, but the side of you that just wants these idiots out of your life wins over fairly easily. "i'm a park ranger! and if you don't leave now, i can guarantee the cops are gonna be waiting for you when you do!"
a beat of silences passes, before they begin to mutter amongst themselves.
"oh shit… are they for real?"
"i don't care dude, i can't get arrested again, my parents would kill me!"
"let's just get outta here, this is freaking me out…"
you fold your arms tightly over your chest and watch them scuttle to gather their things with a scowl. they collectively send you one last withering look, which you readily mirror, before they wade back into the lake and swim across to the bank on your left.
"fucking finally…" your gaze follows them until they weave between the trees and you can no longer see them. with a tired sigh, you bring up your radio and move to check where they disappeared to as you update john. "hey, they're gone."
there's a moment before john replies, sounding not quite as downtrodden as he was earlier, which you take as a good sign. "yeah? how'd it go?"
"i hope they drown." you grumble in response.
he laughs, genuine and deep, and you feel your lingering annoyance melting away with the sound. "let's hope they won't come back."
"are you…" you clear your throat, weaving your way between trees and bushes. "are you okay? about earlier, i mean?"
"yeah, i'm– i'm fine." john answers quickly, and you get the strong feeling that he's deflecting when he continues, "let's just get you back to your tower, eh?".
"and far away from these fucking tourists…" you mutter, which earns you another light chuckle from him. just the memory of them has you cringing as you brush through a few bushes. "completely unrelated question, but would i get in trouble if i, hypothetically, lied about being a park ranger?"
"hypothetically, i reckon we could keep that between me and you."
a small grin finds its way onto your face, just as you reach where you assume those kids had been camping. there's more empty cans scattered by the worn dirt track, which you gather up with a string of curses under your breath.
following the trail of litter as you round the trees, the first thing that meets your eyes is the remains of their campfire, still smouldering and glowing orange in the evening shadows.
"idiots lit a campfire, too." you seethe, sharply kicking dirt over the embers until you're sure it's out. "the fire risk is colour-coded for assholes like them, and somehow it still went over their heads…"
john sighs. "don't think too much about it. knobheads like that wouldn't get it if it smacked 'em in the face."
"who knows? maybe one of these days i will." you're only half joking, but the smile must come across in your voice because john's rumbling chuckle follows again.
"right, and when they ask 'how on earth d'you get fired from a job where all you do is sit on your arse all day', what're you gonna tell 'em?"
"that i beat up some dumb kids and saved the park from being burnt to a crisp?" you grin, starting in the direction you vaguely remember another trail ending, but a glint of light catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
you crouch down, and forgotten behind the bush is a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey. nice.
you slip it into your bag and call it the service charge.
"i think the coppers'll be more concerned with the first bit." john quips. you laugh through the twinge of pain as you stand again, and hope he doesn't notice.
"that's their problem. i'll be the people's hero." you say, earning a other deep chuckle that grows a light feeling in your chest. you get a few more strides up the path before coming across a trail sign with a spoke for fire lookout seven, and tell john, "hey, i found the sign for my tower, so i'm heading that way."
"good. that way's a bit more of a hike, but it's shorter, so you should be home in time for dinner."
"perfect. can't wait to get back to my room temperature tea." you reply, with a trace of sarcasm that you're sure is only just noticeable.
john breathes a short chuckle, before his voice turns slightly more serious. "how's your back, anyway?"
"fucking hurts, but i'll get over it." you answer, and the moment silence that follows has you wishing you'd just said fine. it had slipped your mind how odd john was being about your fall, and though you want to find out why, you get the impression that questioning him about it wouldn't get you anywhere.
he clears his throat uncomfortably. "...sorry, again. it was my fault you fell."
you frown in concern when he apologises, again, and do your best to ease his mind. "don't worry about it, alright? i didn't even fall that far, i was already, like, halfway down."
he doesn't have to know that was a lie.
"still, it shouldn't've happened in the first place." he replies, still sounding rather pitiful despite your efforts.
"i'm being dramatic. it's really fine, john." you try to keep your words light, to convey that you really don't blame him, and he shouldn't either, but he simply hums in response.
"if you say so."
"well, y'know how you can make it up to me?" you let another smile creep into your voice when another idea comes to you.
"how's that?" he takes the bait, some form of amusement present rather than the cynicism from before.
"you can tell me some of your war stories," you can sense his hesitation through the radio, but you press further with a more lighthearted tone, "the cool shit, like how mission impossible is based on your life or whatever."
"well, i'm no tom cruise, but i was at the piccadilly bombin', back in twenty-nineteen." john replies, a hint of smugness behind his words that you don't even register through the shock that stops you in your tracks.
"holy shit, what?"
#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#141 x reader#cod x reader#mw2 x reader#mw3 x reader#call of duty x reader#price x reader#john price#captain john price#roosterr writes
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Fantod
Warnings: non/dubcon, biting, blood, anal, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Part of Roo's Pajama Party (October 7-8)
Prompt: Fantod - a state of irritability and tension (List of prompts here) + this look
Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.
Lightning crackles in the sky as the clouds pulse above. The storm brews behind the pillowy weave above, thrumming, churning, ready to burst at any moment. You peer up from the window in dread. The tension in the air is more than the weather. The storm is no coincidence.
You hug the pale pink knit around you and shiver. The heat that kept you in little more than the white satin set has given way to a creeping dampness. The sinking temperature creeps over your flesh and you shiver as tendrils of lightly sprawl toward you.
Closer and closer. It isn’t only the storm that warns of his approach. You slip your hand beneath the loose sweater and touch the burning patch of skin along your hip. You touch the scarred mark. The etching of a rune you don’t know the meaning of.
You back away from the window and retreat into the kitchen. You put the brass kettle onto the burner and twist the dial until the flame catches. You cross your arms and back up to watch the vessel in dread.
You flinch as a fleck of rain hits the window pane. You glance over at the speckle as it begins. The droplets are small at first then turn into a thrashing stream the rattles the wooden frame and beat on the glass. The first peel of thunder makes you squeak.
You clasp your hands over your chest and spin. The windows darken and the whole cabin seems to tremble. Closer, now.
The whistle of the kettle makes you exclaim. You turn and shut it off, forgetting the idea of tea. The door blows open and slams against the wall. You spin again as a gust unfurls from the front of the house. You scurry to the doorway as the tails of your sweater lash around you.
The hammer soars through the open door and clunks onto the floor. You stare at the handle as it juts up from the dense block. You shiver as lightning flickers in the doorway. Another rush of wind invades the house and another crash lands at the threshold.
Thor’s burly silhouette fills the doorway. You quiver and clutch your hands tight. Goosebumps nip over your skin. You cautiously step forward.
“My prince,” you greet in a mewl that barely escapes your throat.
He doesn’t respond. He enters and the wind reverses, snapping the door shut behind him. You wince and fall into action. You near the gargantuan shadow and pull out the small stool from beside the mat. You climb up to unclasp the front of his cloak as he stands, puffing like a furious bear.
Something has happened. He is unhappy. He doesn’t so often come on sunny days anymore. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t so much as acknowledge you as you pull away the rich red fabric and hang it on the hook.
You slide the stool away as he sits on the bench against the wall. You kneel to remove his boots and put them on the mat. The smell of rain thickens the air and sends another shiver up your spine.
He stands and you scramble to do the same. In an instant, he has you by the back of your neck. You squeak. His strength pinches your muscles. You arch your back and writhe on your toes.
“My prince, how may I serve you?” You whimper.
He grabs the pink sweater strips the sleeve of one arm, then the other. It falls to your feet and he shoves you away from the door. You perform a tortured dance as his nails dig into your skin. He is angry... at you?
“My prince,” you whine again.
He brings his other hand under your chin and forces your mouth shut. Lightning flashes from the windows and limn his angry expression. You peer up at him helplessly.
He marches you backward. Your feet tumble over the rug that trims the length of the hallway until your meet the cold tile. He drags you into the kitchen as the brand on your pelvis throbs hotly.
He urges you against the counter. You’re trapped there before him. He lifts you with no effort at all onto the countertop. You land so that a pang radiates from your tailbone. You grip the edge of the hewn oak and bat your lashes at him.
His hand slips up from your neck to cradle your head. He tilts your face up to him and bends like vulture over his prey. His breath scalds you as he fans you in a furious exhale.
You shakily raise your hands and press them to his chest plate. His grey blue eyes stir in tandem with the storm roaring and raging without. His gaze falls to your touch and he grip eases.
His hand trails down from your chin and tickles your throat. You tremble as he traces along your shoulder and follows the thin strap of your silky camisole. He hooks around the thin strip of fabric and pulls it down your shoulder. The other slackens and falls down your arm. The satin slumps away from your chest.
His eyes devour your chest before he does. He bows to take a pert nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue around until your moan. His need plucks in your chest as he teethes your rigid bud. You bring your hand to the back of his head and draw him in.
Tension cords through his muscles, you feel it as your other hand brushes along his bulging bicep. He nips at you, biting along the cushion of your chest. He jerks you suddenly so you fall onto your back. Your head touches the wall, your neck curling up, as his fingertips wander down your back.
His other hand crawls beneath the loosely tied waistband of your shorts. He pets your pelvis as he trails closer to your cunt. He pushes between your folds and you twitch.
A swell of nerves roils inside of you. Your walls clutch in anticipation, almost fear. Each time is like the first. He’s always too much.
He rubs you as he bites and licks at your chest and shoulders. He nuzzles your neck and sinks his teeth in until you whimper. You spasm as he rolls your clit beneath your fingertips. The skin splits and your blood bubbles into his mouth. Another mark to make you his.
He dips his finger into you, poking as deep as he can, as if to feel your limit. He knows how much you can take and he never pays it much mind. You will take all of him even if you feel you might burst.
He unlatches his teeth and smears his lips in the blood he’s drawn. It stains your skin as he drags his lips around. He pulls his finger in and out, adding another as you groan. He wiggles them inside of you and puts a third in despite your weak whimpers.
He growls and lifts himself. He looks down at you, his lips and beard red from his beastly bite. He jams his fingers as deep as he can then tears them out of you. He grabs your hip and flips you in a single motion.
You hit your stomach on the edge of the counter as you slip backward. He smacks your thigh then drags his hand up to your ass. He slaps you again, so hard your bones aches. Something. You did something. But what?
“My prince, what--”
He hushes you and pinches the soft flesh of your bottom. He feels along your satin shorts and curls his fingers around the waistband. He snaps the ribbon laced through and the shorts slip down your legs.
You as good as hang off the counter as your toes dangles right above the tile. You brace the wood to keep from slipping as he frames your hip with one hand. He shifts behind you, jostling around, brushing against you as he comes closer. The soft rustle of fabric foretells a much rougher end.
He brings himself out and presses his tip along your ass. He traces down the curve and pushes against your folds. You quiver and stretch your hand across the countertop. You close your eyes and grit your teeth. You know what happens now.
Your walls squeeze even as you focus on relaxing. He pauses along your entrance. He rolls his swollen tip around, slickening it with your expectation. He rubs up and down, up and down. Whatever you’ve done, doesn’t matter. Only his will does.
He delves into, just a little, then pulls out. You croak as your insides spasm. He huffs and slips his dick up between your cheeks. He bends forward and hooks his arm around to smother your mouth in his large palm. With his other hand, he pushes his tip against your tight ring.
You squeak helplessly into his rough skin. No. No. Not that. You can’t handle--
Your lips part and your teeth press against his palm as he enters you. You squeal, muted by his hand, and bite down on him as he inches into you. You shake as tears prick at your eyes and well over. Your fingers furl against the wood and your nails cut into the polish.
He nuzzles the grown of your head and growls. You sniffle as you sob silently into his hand. Why is he doing this? What did you do?
He buries himself to his limit and you kick out around his legs. He leans into you as the fullness feels as if it will split your stomach. You whine through your nose and gulp up your agony. You cling to his wrist as he thrusts, your hips bones crushed against the sharp corner of the counter.
He rolls back and in again. Long, slow, strokes. Torturous. A remonstrance spoken without words. He pumps into you as you squirm and squeak. You lean your face into his hand as he pushes his other beneath you. He touches the brand on your pelvis and sends a fiery ripple through you.
He slams his hips into you. He holds himself as deep in you as he can get and pulls back so fast, it drains your breath. He thrusts again, deeper, and falls into an erratic rut. He bounces you against the counter, pinning you beneath him as he smothers your cries, latched onto your hip as he uses you.
He growls into your hair as he fucks you into the counter top. Your torso scraps against the wood and your spine aches from his relentless force.
He grunts and slides his hand around the back of your leg. He pulls your back as he hooks his arm around the back of your thigh. He folds you up as he lifts you with him, his other arm coming around your other leg. He has you high above the floor as he steps away from the counter and thrusts up into your ass.
You push your head back against him. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your tongue lolls out at the clash of pain and pleasure. He snaps his hips, harder and harder, and your body quakes uncontrollably.
He sinks in as deep as he can and shakes. His voice trickles out in heaving growls and keeps you aloft as he turns to lean against the counter. You spasm around his dick, aching and stretched. He snarls through his nose and jerks his hips one last time.
“Stop feeding the crows,” he rasps.
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A Bitter-sweet Birthday || Kyojuro x reader
Happy Birthday to my one and only Flame Hashira - Kyojuro! ❤️🔥❤️🔥
I miss the series, but mostly I miss him. Since it's his birthday, I decided to write something short.
Tags: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @arthurbristow
ENJOY:
The day was sunny and calm with no clouds in the beautiful blue sky.
You woke up early and immediately started to get ready in the quiet privacy of your own room. The day was very important since it was your beloved's birthday today, and you were beaming with excitement and happiness.
The kimono you decided to wear was simple yet pretty. It was plain white fabric with a fiery pattern at the edges, and with fitting red obi and golden obijime. You looked like the real Rengoku, just without flame-like hair.
You were working on pinning your hair up when your door slid open.
Senjuro looked inside and smiled, seeing you in front of the little vanity table. "You are up early. I should have expected that you would be excited to celebrate. Do you need help?" He asked with his soft voice.
You nodded your head. "Yes, please. You are much better at this."
Boy laughed and soon joined you, easily pining your hair up in a simple hairstyle that suited the occasion.
"Oh! Can you put it in?” You asked, handing him a gold hairpin.
Senjuro nodded and fulfilled your request. "My brother did his best picking this for you."
"Yes, I know. Best gift ever," you chuckled and looked into the mirror, admiring Senjuro's work. "Thank you so much."
"No problem. Will you help me a little too? I need some help with cooking,” he asked, and you of course nodded before getting up and following him to the kitchen.
There, you pulled your sleeves up and helped him with preparing miso soup with sweet potatoes and some simple sweets. After all it was a day to celebrate, and what celebration would it be without real sweets!
"You think we have everything?” you asked.
Senjuro shook his head. "I couldn't buy the last thing from our list," he said, looking down.
You just gave him a small smile and ruffled his hair. "No need to worry, we can buy it on our way to him.”
"There will be no need for that. Here.” It was no one else but Shinjuro.
At first his sudden, loud voice made you stiff, but then you realized he was handing you a box with the last thing from the list. Blinking, you looked up at him, not hiding your confusion.
"Just take those to him. I bought them this morning after seeing them on Senjuro's list. I figured out you will need these," man explained.
You smiled widely and bowed. "Thank you so much, Shinjuro-san. We indeed needed those."
"Thank you, father, he will be happy to receive these," Senjuro added with a kind smile.
Shinjuro looked at both of you as if he wanted to add something, but he decided to stay quiet instead. He just turned away and left.
The two of you returned to cooking and chatting, sharing some giggles while doing so.
------------------------------------------
When the food was ready, Senjuro packed it up, you collected other stuff you planned to take, and you both set off on the road.
It wasn't a long trip but going with a friend was an amazing feeling.
The closer you got, the more excited you became. You couldn't wait to celebrate Kyojuro's birthday.
The burial ground seemed quiet and calm, as if it was frozen in time together with everyone else, buried deep in its grounds.
All you could hear were birds singing softly, their songs carried by a quiet whisper of the wind that sneaked around the crowns of trees and soft splash of a river nearby. The sun's gentle warmth enveloped the serene atmosphere, casting a comforting glow on the world.
"Aniki," Senjuro said happily and ran up to one of the graves, setting everything down next to it.
You quickly followed him and smiled looking at the grave. "Good to see you again, love."
After the quick greeting, you and Senjuro got to work, cleaning the grave. You made sure to visit Kyojuro regularly so there was a small amount of cleaning needed.
In the end, you pulled out the box that Shinjuro gave you and pulled out incense sticks. You lit them up and placed them on the grave.
You and Senjuro clasped your hands together, preparing for the prayer ahead with a sense of unity and reverence.
Senjuro finished first, and started putting down a little blanket. You joined him shortly after, and helped him with setting everything up.
"Aniki. Everything's good at home, father has stopped drinking, and things are much calmer there now. He even accepted Y/N around," Senjuro said, even if his words were greeted by nothing but silence.
"That's true, but I still try to do my best to stay out of his way. Today he bought us incense sticks for you, love," you smiled softly.
Senjuro nodded and picked up his little bowl of soup. "Happy birthday, aniki. I wish you were still here. I miss having you around.”
You smiled sadly, doing the same as he did. "Happy birthday, my love. I miss you dearly."
The rest of the celebration went calmly.
You talked and joked with Kyojuro, telling him everything that happened since the last visit.
If you only knew he was there indeed, sitting next to his own grave, listening to both of you and feeling happy, hoping the warm sun rays would convey how glad he was to celebrate his birthday with his little brother and the love of his life.
#demon slayer#kyojuro rengoku#demon slayer kyojuro#kny rengoku#kyojuro x reader#kyojuro x you#kyojuro rengoku x reader#kyojuro rengoku x y/n#kny kyojuro
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Happy birthday!! Can I please get "you’re freezing, come here.” With Hangman?
Fast like Rain
pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x gn!reader
word count: 1k
summary: Your childhood best friend, Jake, is home from deployment. The two of you spend the day together and it ends with a cold but sweet treat.
a/n: sorry this took so long to write! my blurbs keep end up being longer than just blurbs lmao. i hope you enjoy!!
The day had started out great. Jake was home on leave for a little bit, meaning that you finally got to see your best friend after months of his deployment. He had promised you one full day of hanging out when he had left. So, it was time for him to honor that promise.
The day had started with brunch from his favorite local diner, to which he ordered his classic sunny side up eggs with crispy bacon and toast. You ordered your own favorite meal, earning teasing when you ordered your classic cup of orange juice. Jake never let you live that down, always joking that you were never going to fully grow up.
The two of you spent the next few hours doing whatever. It was so refreshing to finally have Jake home. He was your best friend no matter what, even if you happened to have a little bit more than just platonic feelings for him. It was hard not to like him. He had that Texan charm you had grown up dreaming about.
Charm with a bit of asshole to him, and it honestly made your heart sing. Maybe that's because he didn't intimidated you, instead it pushed you to be an asshole right back at him. Which Jake himself loved about you. Every time you ever swore at him and yelled at him, he would later that night think about it in bed, wondering if you would speak that way if you were underneath him.
The two of you were currently in some random field outside of town. Jake had decided to drive the old beater truck he had during high school while he was in town. So the tailgate was currently down, the both of you sitting on it with your legs dangling. The soft yet dry tall grass was brushing against your ankles.
"Are you serious?" You laughed after asking.
"Come on, of course, how could you not believe me?" Jake retorted.
"You weren't a track star in school, that's why!"
"I played football," Jake reminded you.
"As a QB, not a running back!" You could help the laughter that came from you.
"Fine," Jake hoped off the tailgate, "let's race."
The laughter immediately stopped when you heard him. You both had been too caught up in each other to have noticed the darker clouds starting to consume the sky. You gave Jake a serious look, tiling your head as if to question his seriousness.
"Hey, I'm being serious here," Jake threw his hands up in defense.
"One hundred percent?" You questioned.
He took his right index finger and drew a cross over his heart. You hoped down off the tailgate and stood face to face with him. You crossed your arms, signaling that you meant business.
"What's in it for me?"
"I'll buy you ice cream," Jake said.
"Fence line?"
Jake shook his head yes, that stupid smirk on his face. Without a second thought you took off running. You heard Jake yell from behind you about how he never said start. All you did was throw a middle finger back at him. Jake chased you all the way to the fence line, huffing once he finally caught up to you. You had been waiting for only a few seconds since reaching it. Your own breath was heavy, lungs struggling to keep up.
"Guess you aren't that fast," you chuckled while trying to steady your breathing. You looked over at Jake and then leaned again the fence post next to you.
"I don't know if that counts," Jake joked. He moved near you, putting a hands on the same post you were leaning on.
The two of you were close, only a few inches separating your bodies. Smiles adorned both of your faces while you stared at each other. You could never get tried of staring at him. Yeah, he looked like a generic jock, but he was your generic jock. Those green eyes never left yours, and a part of was starting to wonder if the two of you were moving closer towards one another.
Suddenly there was a loud rumble through the sky. It was only then that both of you noticed the dark sky. You examined the sky, a small drop of water hit your skin. Jake felt one too, looking at you quickly. It was seconds before a complete down pour started. You howled in laughter and shock as Jake just started laughing. After a few more seconds of taking the rain in, you ran back towards the truck. Jake was right behind you, stopping to lift the tailgate back up while you climbed into the cab.
"Holy shit," the words were breathy from your laughter.
"That was a surprise," Jake said.
The both of you were practically soaked. His t-shirt was practically a different color now. Yours was about the same though. Little goosebumps were starting to prick up along your skin. Jake noticed this when you wrapped your arms around yourself. He reached out hesitantly, brushing his knuckles against your skin.
"You're freezing," he whispered, "come here."
Jake opened his arms and gestured for you to move closer to him. You hesitated for a minute, eventually moving into his arms. Jake's arm were so warm, they were like one of his old sweatshirts that you had stolen forever ago. The sound of rain filled the silence between the two of you.
"I missed you."
The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You sat up a little and looked at Jake. There was worry weaved through your expression as if you had done something wrong. Jake moved a hand to your jaw, cupping it then leaning in.
Neither of you fought it, leaning into the kiss and your emotions. For so long the both of you had fought them, telling yourselves that this couldn't be real. But it was.
Jake pulled back and just stared at you, a small smile on his lips. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, marveling internally at how soft your skin was.
"I missed you too."
#moths 26th#jake seresin#jake seresin fluff#jake seresin fanfic#jake seresin fic#jake seresin imagine#jake seresin x reader#tgm fanfiction#tgm fic#tgm fluff
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Sweet Jane
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic Ellie Williams x fem!reader)
Author’s note: this actually ripped my heart out and made me realize why I don’t write angst
Summary: “If I have children, I hope they live quiet lives. No fires for them. No sickness. No breaking news stories. I hope they die of old age, far from the pages of history books.” - oh, to live unremarkably by Trista Mateer [2.3k]
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of child loss (reader has lost a child) teen pregnancy, tumultuous parent/child relationships, references to a sexual relationship but nothing explicit, reader is a badass because I said so, ANGST
The second you saw her, you knew this was a possibility. You knew it would happen at one point but watched your tongue. You thought it would happen in the middle of a firefight or trying to survive a horde of Infected or some other dangerous situation where you couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. It doesn't. It happens on a sunny autumn day while walking away from the ravaged Kansas City. She was trying to show off or prove something to Joel when she tried to run forward without warning. It came out as a gasp as you grabbed her backpack and yanked her back before her foot could slip off the ledge of a cliff. Your heart pounded as you gripped her like you were waiting for her to start falling again. She mumbled a quick sorry before you let her go. She didn't try to run forward again after that.
She waits longer than you expected to ask about it. After you set up camp for the night and cook whatever Joel decided, Ellie looks at you and asks, "who's Jane?" Joel's brows furrow at the question, and your chest tightens. “You called me Jane earlier."
"Jane's my daughter." You catch yourself using the present tense, and grief trickles down your spine like an unpleasant cold shower. Saying that she was your daughter sounds wrong. It's been years now, but you can't make yourself switch. She's still your daughter, even if she's gone. You're still her mom. You'll always be her mom.
"Oh," she gapes, and you nod. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, but you don't look at him. If you do, the words will tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You didn't know." You say, shrugging as if she gave you the wrong directions instead of asking about your kid. She doesn't push the subject anymore, and you eat silently until Ellie crawls into her sleeping bag and falls asleep.
Cicadas' chirps and the fire's crackling fill the space between Joel and you. The stars twinkle as the clouds move in the night sky. It's peaceful. Or it would be, at least, if Joel hadn't been fiddling with his gun for the past twenty minutes. The metal clicking is almost enough to drive you crazy, and you shoot him a look. He freezes and meets your eyes before letting his hands drop.
"Sorry," he says, and you chuckle. He props the gun up next to him and glances around to make sure nothing's decided to sneak close to you.
"I think we're safe," You say.
"For now."
"Joel Miller, ever the optimist."
"It ain't about being optimistic. It's about being smart."
"Right," you shake your head and look at Ellie sleeping in the corner. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she dreams secret dreams. You smile when she snuggles deeper into her sleeping bag and scrunches her nose. "You think she'll be okay?" You ask, meeting his eyes.
"Kids seem to handle these things better."
"Sam was her friend."
"I know." He says. Images of shaky guns, Ellie's screams, and the silence that followed Henry's body hitting the floor replay in your mind in slow motion. You're trying to figure out where it went wrong, when the universe pulled yet another rug out from under you. When you put the two kids to bed, everything was fine, and not even eight hours later, Sam and Henry were dead. How many people will you bury before you get to the Fireflies?
"I'm tired," you admit softly. You can tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he's in his own head, turning things over to look for new details. He's looking for something he missed. "What're you thinking about?" You ask, snapping him out of it, and he shifts uncomfortably.
"You never told me you had a daughter." He finally says, and you nod. You look down at your bootlaces and untie them, so you don't have to look at him.
"It never came up."
"Her name was Jane?" He phrases it like he wasn't listening the first time, but you know he's trying to get you to open up about her.
"Jane Eloise," saying her full name scratches at an unhealed wound deep in your stomach. You think about all the times you shouted those names across the apartment to her. You were always late for school, late for a birthday party, and late for appointments. You're almost positive she would've been late to her own birth if you hadn't been induced. Rushing was the way you lived your life for that decade. You would give anything to be running late with her again. "If I talk about her, I'm gonna cry." You warn.
"That's okay." His voice is so soft, and he's looking at you with those big eyes, and something shifts. You haven't talked about her in years, but something in Joel's demeanor makes you feel safe enough to unlock the door in your brain, holding all her memories.
"I had her when I was sixteen. I was pregnant throughout my sophomore year of high school and had a toddler by the time I went to college. I still don't know how, but I graduated. I was gonna go to med school and start a brand new life, just the two of us. I spent so fucking long studying, but it didn't matter."
"How come I didn't know all this?"
"We agreed to keep our pasts to ourselves when we started," you hesitate—started seeing each other as stress relief and nothing else? Started lying to Tess so you could fuck in alleys in between deals? Started pretending like it meant nothing? "I never thought you'd want to know more than you had to."
"I want to know now," He says like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Did her dad stay around to help you?"
"No, he left the second he got the chance. It was probably for the better, anyway. He was an asshole. I still don't know if he's alive or if he even knows what happened. I don't know if I care enough to find out."
"How old was she when she…" he trails off, the last word dying on his tongue. You swallow around the lump in your throat and take a shaky breath.
"Ten."
"I'm sorry." He says, and you nod. You never knew how to respond to people when they told you they were sorry your kid was dead. You still don't. Nobody tells you about this part in parenting classes.
"We got out on Outbreak Day. Somehow, I kept her alive until I could get her to the QZ nearby. I smuggled there for a few years and made enough money to feed and clothe her. That's better than most people were able to do. I would pick her up from school and walk her home most days but I had a deal with one of my neighbors, Mrs. Carmichael, that if I couldn't pick her up from school, she would. She picked her up a few times, and nothing went wrong. So, when I got caught up in a deal outside the walls one day, I thought it was safe to finish it and be home by dinner," you say, regret washing over you all at once. "Then, Fireflies started dropping bombs. I heard the explosions all the way out there, and I ran back, but it didn't matter. They were both gone."
"When I told my mom I was pregnant, she was furious. She told me that a mother's love is nothing compared to a mother's fury. At least, that was her excuse when she threw me out, but I didn't know if I believed her until that day. After Jane died, I ripped the entire city apart, looking for every single Firefly that had orders to drop bombs that day, and I killed all of them without batting an eye, and it still didn't bring her back. I still woke up every morning and listened for her breathing or the sound of her making cereal in the kitchen. I waited for her to come home every day for years," tears fall from your eyes, and you quickly wipe them away. Joel is clinging to your every word. "I couldn't stay there. My daughter and everyone who could've been responsible for her death was dead, so I came to Boston. Met you and Tess, and that was it."
"That's why you wanted to kill Marlene when we got Ellie." He says, connecting the dots, and you nod.
"I wanted to drop a fucking bomb on her head for what she did. I don't care if that makes me cruel. She killed my kid and called her collateral. Made it seem like she was a part of the cause and not a fucking child just trying to get home from school."
"I get it," he says. You open your mouth to say something about how he could never understand, how nobody ever could, but he beats you to it. "My… Sarah was fourteen," He stumbles over his words. "I wanted to kill the guy who shot her. I didn't care that he was following orders on that day, I wanted him to suffer, but he was already dead."
Joel had a daughter, not much older than yours, and you never talked about either of them. He's one of the only people in the world who can see your pain, the black hole Jane left in you, and show you his matching one. Joel must've been young when he had his daughter, too. Twenty-two, at the very least. How could you have never talked about this?
"What was Sarah like?"
"She was a spitfire and just about the funniest person I've ever known. Smart as hell, too. She was always readin' and telling me everything she learned in school. I never understood half of it, but she loved it," He says, and it's your turn to cling to his every word. His eyes light up as he talks about her. You see now what a good dad he must've been. "Still don't know where she got it from."
"Well, I'd say she got it from her dad. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for." You say, but he shakes his head, refusing the compliment.
"What about Jane? What was she like?" He asks, and you think for a moment. You remember her big brown eyes; how they widened when she was excited about something or glazed over with tears when she was afraid. You remember how her laugh could fill a room. You remember cradling her in your arms when she came into the world and when you found her.
"She was the most beautiful person I've ever met. When she was born, all the nurses would take turns coming into my room to look at her. They couldn't stop telling me how cute she was, and I agreed with them. She was perfect," you smile, remembering how many pictures you took of her tiny face. You had been terrified your entire pregnancy, but the second you saw her, you knew you were meant to be her mom. You felt completely at peace with her, even as young and unprepared as you were.
"She was quiet and curious, but she also had moments where she was loud and careless like kids usually are. I never understood what people meant when they said having kids gave them a whole new idea of what love could be until I had her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me." You say. Joel watches you wipe more tears away before putting his hand on your knee and squeezing. He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes tells you everything.
"I wonder if they would've been friends. Our daughters." He thinks aloud.
"I like to think so."
"Me too," he says. He clears his throat, probably trying to bury any emotions this conversation brought up. "She would've loved you."
"You think?" You ask, and he nods.
"You two would've been thick as thieves. Probably conspire against me or somethin'."
"And that's different from now, how?" He laughs at that, and you smile. You put your hand over his and let your thumb trace the contours of his knuckles. Those bruised, scarred, terrifying mountains that have killed and beaten soften under your touch.
You don't say much else for the rest of the night. You just hold his hand and stay awake to protect the girl not much older than your daughters were. The fear, cautious optimism, and sadness that came along with Ellie, that you thought you were alone in feeling doesn't feel as heavy anymore. The black hole Jane left will never be filled, and you will miss her for the rest of your life, but Joel opening up and showing you his similar wound makes you feel less alone.
It makes you wonder if your girls are together somewhere far from all the pain and bloodshed. You wonder if they've secretly conspired to make you two find each other. You wonder what they would think of each other, of the people their parents turned into, of Ellie. It's nice to think they're together, playing silly games while waiting for you.
Not yet, sweet Jane, you think as you look at the stars, and maybe it's a mind trick or exhaustion, but you swear a star winks back at you. Not yet, Mommy, she seems to agree.
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#joel and ellie#the last of us#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel tlou#the last of us x reader#ellie williams#joel miller the last of us#joel miller angst#sarah miller#tlou angst#i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess#look for the light
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