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ryehouses · 1 year

Note

Boba PoV request (now they have thier own special fic and all) anything to do with his pool / bath / oasis please 😍

OHO ASK AND RECEIVE, MY GOOD FRIEND, YEAH I'VE GOT SOME STUFF FROM BOBA'S FANCY TATOOINE JACUZZI.

i also have been really good about revision this week, so i do have a different pov set up to post in the queue once a day for the next week or so, thank you all for your patience, i love you, et cetera et cetera.

this snippet is set during chapter 19, "pirun," and features some flirting, some introspection and some ~~boba angst. enjoy!

in which a conversation has more edges than usual.

Din took to the bath like a karking colo claw fish took to a pond full of minnows. He teased Boba a little about the extravagance of building a bath like this first, of course – apparently, Din’s people didn’t believe in indulgences, but Boba’d learned a bit about Din’s people these last few weeks, and he’d decided that he didn’t particularly care what they thought anyway.

Life in the desert is hard, Boba thought, surrounded on all sides by warm water. This bath – a pool, really, a little oasis that Boba had carved carefully out of the depths of the palace, once he’d managed to get rid of the scum and sludge that Jabba had left behind – was fed by the palace’s aquifer, the water clear and clean. It was naturally cold, like most of the oases that dotted the Great Dune Sea, but Jabba’d been a creature of expensive tastes and he hadn’t thought twice about installing temperature controls beneath the pool to warm the water to his liking.

Boba hadn’t liked Jabba much, but as he swam deeper into the pool, warm water lapping at his sides, he couldn’t help but agree with the old worm, just a little.

Life in the desert is hard, Boba thought. There’s no reason to make it any harder by denying myself a little bit of pleasure. A little bit of comfort.

Cleaning the artificial oasis up had taken some time. Jabba’d done his best to make it a perfect replica of a weekoona, a Nal Hutta wallow. The smell, after said weekoona had been locked up and left alone in the five or six years between Jabba’s death and Bib Fortuna’s, had nearly knocked Boba back on his shebs, the first time he’d opened the door.

Now, though, the pool was closer to what Boba could remember of a wahat, a Tusken oasis. Dappled light softened the edges of the room and Ushib had gifted Boba with long mashoo reeds and a few hardy tamur trees, hardy thorntooths and even a long, trailing safi tree. Now the room smelled of clean water and growing plants, damp and earth and safe.

Boba swam out into the middle of the pool, confident that Din would follow him. When he reached the center, Boba stopped swimming and stood, the water lapping against his chest. The bottom of the pool was textured, so Boba didn’t have to fight to stand. The warmth eased some of his old aches and pains, took pressure off of his sore knee; Din had tackled Boba pretty hard last night, and while it hadn’t hurt at the time, adrenaline and the fierce joy of a good night blocking out something as insignificant as a bruised knee, Boba was too old now to wake up the morning after a spar spry and free of pain.

Din kept swimming, circling Boba easily. He didn’t struggle in the water, which was a pleasant surprise – Boba hadn’t been sure if Din knew how to swim. Mandalorians in general didn’t have much use for it. Mandalore’s waters had been poisoned for a long time, and swimming in beskar was difficult at best.

But Din, always a surprise, could swim well enough to circle Boba, his shoulders working smoothly in the water. Boba was content to stay where he was and just watch Din. Watching Din had become something of a hobby.

Another indulgence, Boba thought wryly.

Despite the flogging he’d taken last night, Din moved easily. Out of his armor, Din was pale. He’d started to get a bit more color on his face and his neck, now that he went around the palace without his helmet sometimes, but the rest of him was usually hidden from the suns. He never left the tower that housed Boba’s rooms without his beskar’gam.

Like Boba, Din was mostly made up of scar tissue. None of Din’s scars were as extensive as Boba’s – Din, at least, had not ever had the bad karking luck to end up in a sarlacc’s mouth – but he still had more than a few. Some of them, like the shiny, pink weal of a blaster burn scored across one of Din’s biceps or the white, straight slash of a knife against Din’s ribs, were easy to identify. Others, like a tangled knot of scar tissue underneath Din’s right shoulder or the uneven web of raised skin on the outside of one of Din’s thighs, were harder to guess at.

For a man who’s always covered in armor, he’s got a lot of ink, Boba thought. Din had all manner of faded tattoos, most of them softened to a bluish color with time. Boba liked tracing them almost as much as he liked tracing Din’s scars. Din didn’t tolerate the contact well outside of a flogging, but after a flogging he leaned into every touch, and seemed to like the repetitive motion of Boba following each branch of the wroshyr tree tattooed around Din’s bicep or the bui’tsad symbols on his back.

“Where’d you learn how to swim?” Din asked, still cutting gracefully through the water. Ripples lapped at Boba’s belly, his chest, as warm as a hand. “Not here, probably.”

Boba smiled. Tuskens didn’t swim, even though most of them had at least on oasis on their tuskbal. Even tribes that had rivers moving beneath their sands stayed out of the water.

“No,” Boba said, weighing his answer in his head. He hadn’t brought Din down here with the intention of talking much.

It’s Din, though, he thought. Getting Din to talk about anything was a bit like trying to get a krayt dragon to give up its pearl. If he wanted to talk now, Boba could probably put up with a little discomfort. Maybe talking a little would put Din at ease, make him easier to persuade later. Boba’d come down here with a few ideas for how he’d like to spend the rest of the morning, but all of them were indulgent and Mandalorians like Din, as a general rule, treated indulgence like most other beings treated a live concussion grenade.

No, talking to Din here wasn’t going to hurt anything. It might even help deepen the trust between Din and Boba both.

Despite that, Boba hesitated. He’d learned to swim the same way he had learned most things – from his father. Boba never talked about his father, not if he could help it. Jango Fett occupied a peculiar place in Boba’s memory. Boba’d call it a scar, like the ones decorating Din’s back and sides, the scars on Boba’s hands, the back of his neck, except scars were wounds that had healed, and what had happened to Jango never had.

It’s not like Djar’ika means any harm, though, thought Boba. Din was looking at him expectantly now, his face open and honest and utterly without malice. He didn’t know what he was doing, prodding at old, raw wounds. Din had trusted Boba with a lot, these last few days. He had followed Boba into the water. Boba could trust him with this. It’d only hurt a little. The wound was old enough.

“No,” Boba repeated, tucking his thoughts away in favor of watching the long lines of Din’s body. “Not here. I – the planet I grew up on was an ocean world. Kamino. Ever hear of it?”

Predictably, Din shook his head. He hadn’t slipped all the way under the water yet and Boba kind of wanted to reach out and dunk him, just to see what kind of face Din would make when he surfaced. He held off, for now.

I can always dunk him if this conversation gets too serious, Boba thought. I brought him down here to have some fun, after all.

“The entire planet was water,” Boba said, reaching back through his memory for Kamino. His home world – in so much as he had one – was always there for him, easy to reach and touch and recall. Salt air, driving rain, the stark hallways of Tipoca City. A rumble at night that could have been Jango’s voice or a peal of far-off thunder.

“It – I didn’t learn how to swim in the ocean,” Boba continued. The water had always been too rough. Boba could count the number of calm, clear, sunny days he’d seen on Kamino on one hand.

Din didn’t interrupt. As always, his rapt attention – the way that Din looked at Boba, wholly focused, like Boba was a star that Din orbited – made it easier to talk to him than it should have been.

“There were too many storms,” Boba said. If he closed his eyes, he could still see them. Thick, heavy clouds and gashes of lightning. Rain drumming down on the walls like soldiers marching. “But my dad thought that I should learn, so I did. There were – training facilities there. Kamino trained soldiers. They could conjure up just about any environment that you could imagine. Dad taught me how to swim in a pool like this one.”

Boba gestured at the room around them. The mashoo reeds rustled, stirred by a current of air moving from one room to another. He could remember one of his father’s big hands pressed against Boba’s chest, then small and thin and unscarred. Jango’s voice as he held Boba’s head out of the water.

“He’d turn the bubbler on when I got bigger, so I could practice swimming against resistance.”

Swimming lessons in beskar’gam probably would’ve followed, if Jango had lived. He’d wanted to prepare Boba for anything. Being able to swim when most other beings had expected Boba to sink like a karking stone had been pretty useful, over the years. Jango’d been oddly prescient like that. He had known that the galaxy was not kind and had tried to anticipate anything and everything that Boba might have come up against.

Except for the sarlacc, Boba thought, pulling away from the wound in his heart that was his father. Nobody could prepare for the sarlacc.

“Oh,” Din said, floating now instead of actively swimming, bobbing just out of reach. The bruises from the flogger curled around his shoulders, his hips. Boba wanted to touch them. “I think I learned how to swim on my home planet too. I remember… hands. My father’s hands, I think.”

A pang went through Boba’s ribs at that. Din’s voice was soft. He spent too much time underneath his helmet to hide what he was thinking or feeling, and Boba could track his memories as they flashed across his face.

His home world? Boba wondered, curious. He’d never asked Din where he’d come from. Boba had assumed that it had been Mandalore, or one of Mandalore’s outpost worlds. Concordia, maybe, or Kalevala, since Din had known Bo-Katan Kryze.

An odd sense of kinship, of likeness, itched underneath Boba’s skin. He wasn’t sure he cared much for the feeling. Boba was used to being – singular. Genetically he was one of millions, but no one was like Boba. Fennec was like enough that she and Boba understood each other without words, but Din –

He’s Mandalorian, Boba reminded himself, sternly. I’m not. We’re not – we might share some things in our pasts, but we’re not the same. Boba needed to remember that. He needed to remember that Din was his own man, that what he wanted and needed wasn’t the same thing that Boba wanted and needed.

We can help each other, but I need to remember that this – the closeness deepening between Boba and Din with every passing week, the affection that grew and grew in Boba’s chest, the way he’d felt looking at Din last night, after Din’d slammed his forehead into Boba’s chin, their blood mingling together – is an arrangement, for Din. He’s here to get what he needs. He’s not here to – to –

“Our village would flood during the rainy season,” Din continued, still swimming. Boba wrenched his thoughts away. Thinking about what Boba couldn’t have was likely to open another wound in his chest, and Boba had enough of those already. “When the rains passed, we’d swim out to the fields and look for anything that the rains had left behind.”

So he’s not from Concordia, then, Boba thought. That moon had been almost as barren as Mandalore. “Where are you from?” he asked, curiously.

Din shrugged. “I don’t remember,” he said, and Boba could see the honesty in his face. Din had just about as much guile as a baby tooka, which was to say that he had no guile in him at all. It was – refreshing. Charming, though Boba was still doing his best to avoid thinking about Din that way. Din wasn’t trying to be charming. He was just trying to be himself.

Don’t take more than you’re being offered, shabuir, Boba reminded himself. He had a responsibility to Din. Din was trusting him to uphold it. Had trusted Boba, with his vulnerability. With his pain.

“Somewhere in the Outer Rim, I think,” Din said. He shook his head a little and gestured at the water. “The older warriors kept teaching us kids how to swim whenever we lived somewhere that had enough water.”

Boba could understand that. Not every aliit had been welcome on Mandalore in its waning days, in the days of Satine Kryze, and fewer still had been welcome after Gar Saxon had sold the planet out to the Empire. Many clans had been forced into hiding.

Twenty years ago, when Boba’d been younger – angrier – he’d been almost pleased, about that. He’d never had anywhere safe to lay low for longer than a month or two, not after he’d left Kamino for good, not after Geonosis.

Why should any of the cowards who abandoned my dad get to be safe? he’d thought at the time.

Now, though, Boba looked at Din – at a Mandalorian – and wished that Din hadn’t been forced to leave his homeworld, wherever it had been. No kid deserved to grow up the way Boba and Din had grown up, always on the run.

Kark, Boba thought. Maybe I did go soft, in the sarlacc’s belly. Maybe the acid had eaten away more than Boba’s hair, than the skin across his shoulders, the backs of his hands.

“You live in a lot of places?” Boba asked, curious despite his better judgment to learn just how similar a childhood he and Din had had. Din had a lot of the skills that young drifters tended to pick up. He spoke several languages. He flew ships with ease. He ate quickly and always cleaned his plate. He was skittish, sometimes, and when Boba flogged Din out of his own head Din was skin-hungry and shy, uncertain, like he half-expected to be shoved away instead of pulled close.

“Yeah,” Din said, easily enough. He wasn’t shy or uncertain now, was comfortable in Boba’s presence, and Boba counted that as a victory. “Did you?”

He’d swum farther away than Boba wanted him to be. Boba pushed off of his feet and followed, parting the water easily. Din, sometimes just as playful as he was shy, didn’t move away.

“Yes,” Boba said honestly, after thinking about it for a moment. He’d lived across half of the karking galaxy, really; after Geonosis, the longest Boba had stayed in any one place had been the year or so he’d spent in prison.

“And no,” he added. “Mostly I lived on the ship, once I got it back.”

Hyperspace had been safer for Boba than Tatooine or Nar Shaddaa or Corellia. When he hadn’t been able to pass days in a hyperlane, sailing from one side of the galaxy to the other, Boba’d spent weeks anchored in asteroid belts, leaving only to earn enough credits for the next meal, for the next canister of hyperfuel.

Din bobbed a little closer, his expression thoughtful. He looked better, these days. When he’d first come back to Tatooine, Din – Djarin, then, an ally but nothing more – had been worn and haunted, his face thin and pale and creased with pain.

A few months of Ushib’s cooking had filled Din back out, and he was at least sleeping some. He’d slept in Boba’s bed last night, his body warm and familiar. Boba himself was a light sleeper, but he hadn’t felt Din so much as twitch last night.

Din had even cut his hair at some point, the ends of it now damp and clinging to his neck. These days he looked less like a stray akk dog and more like a treasured massif, sleek and powerful and always ready for a hunt.

Looking at Din made affection bloom behind Boba’s ribcage. Affection was dangerous. Was too close to what Boba had felt for Din last night, looking at him across the makeshift sparring ring, too close to something that Boba didn’t have a name for, didn’t know what to do with, didn’t know how to use.

But Boba couldn’t quite manage to make himself crush that feeling of affection. Pulling away now, he thought, would hurt Din. Boba didn’t want to hurt him.

Din, catching Boba looking at him, blushed a little, color creeping down his neck, across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Boba had traced that blush with his tongue last night. He wanted to chase it again.

“What?” Din asked, dipping his chin deeper into the water.

Boba smiled. “Nothing,” he said. As much fun as it would be be to reel Din in, to call him Djar’ika, to kiss him, Boba had come down here with an idea of how he wanted to spend his morning, and it was probably safer than letting himself entertain ideas of – of intimacy, maybe, with Din Djarin.

Affection was one thing. So was fondness. But anything deeper than that –

Anything more, Boba thought, is outside of what we agreed.

So Boba said, “Nothing,” and flicked a bit of water at Din to reassure him. The urge to dunk Din all the way in the water rose again. “I’m just thinking,” he said. The tips of Din’s ears, still above water, stayed stubbornly red.

Din had been willing to try just about everything that Boba had suggested, so far. Boba’d brought a few things down from his rooms. He’d had an idea last night, after the flogging, as he’d been soothing Din, carding his fingers through Din’s hair. As Din’s beard had scraped roughly against Boba’s face.

He’s been willing to try everything, even a flogger, Boba reasoned. He’d probably be willing to indulge me in this, too.

“I’ve got something I’d like to try, if you’re interested,” Boba said. He kept his tone light, trying not to spook Din while the other man was naked and slippery. This pool was a big one – if Din decided to be hard to catch, Boba would be after him for a while.

Din didn’t bolt, but he did narrow his eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

Boba grinned. He’d never guess. “Trust me,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it, I think.” So far Din had only enjoyed a bit of pampering – a bit of care – after Boba had literally beaten him into submission, but Boba held out hope that Din’s indulgence would extend even this far.

“You just need to wait here for a minute,” Boba added. He’d brought a shaving kit down with him, just in case. It wasn’t that Boba thought that Din needed a shave. That Boba had minded the rough texture of Din’s beard.

It is, Boba thought to himself, honestly, that I think he’d get off on being underneath a knife, if I was the one holding it, and I want to see if he trusts me that far. If he’ll surrender that far.

Din had been vulnerable to Boba before. He’d let Boba wrap a hand around his throat. He’d let Boba bring a flogger down across his back. Had let Boba kiss him, and touch him, and fuck him, and sleep beside him. But letting Boba hold a razor to his throat –

Boba’s heart sped up just thinking about it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what Din looked like. He wanted to know what Din would let him do.

Din’s expression was wary, but Boba knew him well enough now to catch the glint of desire – of curiosity, which was just as dangerous as desire – in his eyes. Din lifted his chin out of the water, throat flexing, and said, “What is it?”

“Just trust me,” Boba said, still smiling. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and honestly he did like it when Din got a bit nervous beforehand. Those nerves made Din’s surrender, when it came, even sweeter. “You’ll enjoy it,” Boba said again, because Din would. So far Din had loved letting Boba have his way; he’d melted into it every time. “You just need to wait here for a minute.”

Din scowled a little, annoyed that Boba hadn’t answered his question, but even here he was willing to trust Boba. A thrill of pleasure, heady and dark and as smooth as papuur’gal, licked against the bottom of Boba’s ribs.

“Fine,” Din said, his curiosity winning against his caution. “I’ll just… float here, then.”

Positive reinforcement had so far been the trick with Din, disarming him just as effectively as a blaster bolt to the wrist, so Boba said, “Ori’jate,” and told Din to stay put in the middle of the pool while Boba himself swam back to the edge of it.

The water was still warm. In quieter times, Boba’d like to come down here and just float for a while, his eyes fixed on the pricks of light high above the pool. Maybe after they dealt with the Hutts he could come down here and float. It would be nice to relax.

He didn’t want to leave Din alone for too long. Boba rarely was apart from Din these days, just like he was rarely apart from Fennec, and if he was being honest with himself, Boba didn’t mind. It was good to have people that he could trust – that trusted him – close at hand.

He stepped out of the water when he reached the edge of the pool and quickly prepared what he would need. Boba – like Jango – was traditional. He didn’t use Kashyyyki clippers or depil cream to cut his hair or trim his beard and never had. He’d used a straight razor since he’d become a man and still used one, even though now, after his stay in a sarlacc’s belly, Boba didn’t have any hair on his head and could only grow his beard in patches.

Getting ready took only a minute, maybe too, and then Boba was back in the water. Anticipation made it easy to set some of Boba’s thoughts, some of his doubts, his wariness about letting Din get too close, about getting to close to him in return, aside.

Boba swam back to Din, who was now floating on his back in the warm water, moving just enough to stay afloat. His belly and chest didn’t have as many bruises as his back did. Near his hips he still carried faint, crescent nail-marks, where Boba had taken him by the hips. A bruise spanned part of Din’s side where Boba’d crashed into him while they had wrestled. But that was it.

Boba wanted to leave Din with a few more bruises. Wanted to run his tongue over a silvery scar at the bottom of Din’s ribcage, to press a kiss to the pulse Boba could see jumping in Din’s throat, wanted more.

I’ll start small, he thought, almost near enough again to touch Din.

Din, sensing that Boba was near again, righted himself, turning to face Boba. His expression was open and relaxed, trusting; some of the stress Din had carried with him over the last few weeks – kark, last night, when he’d returned from Mos Entha without finding his kin – had been worn away.

Desire cooled in Boba’s belly. There was no reason to rush anything. Din didn’t need to be devoured right here, right now; Boba could take his time.

“Enjoying yourself?” Boba asked, crowding into Din’s space. Din righted himself, standing up again, water sloshing between their bodies, but didn’t pull away.

“It is nice,” Din admitted. He blinked at Boba, his expression still open. If they’d been up in Boba’s rooms, Boba might have called him cyar’yc. Sweet. At their closeness Din’s expression faltered, some of that shyness or that wariness kicking in, but Boba didn’t want Din to pull away and reached out to stop him. He took Din by the chin, loose enough that Din could pull away, if he wanted to, but tight enough that Boba could feel Din’s pulse leap against his thumb.

He kept that thumb against the corner of Din’s jaw, his palm against Din’s chin, and tucked his fingers against Din’s throat. Din’s beard tickled Boba’s skin. Like Boba, Din had bare patches here and there, skin smooth where no hair had grown, but unlike Boba, Din’s face was mostly free of scars. The only one he had was that line between his eyes, only really visible up close.

Din had split his face open against another Mandalorian’s helmet, he’d said. A mirshmure’cya. A brain-kiss.

Warmth lit up Boba’s belly. He told himself that it was just the water.

“What are you doing?” Din asked, though he didn’t fight Boba’s hand.

Boba smiled at him. “I’m thinking,” he said. He tilted Din’s face to the side, still gentle enough, and Din let him. Din’s wet curls clung to his cheeks, to the nape of his neck, to his forehead, and his skin was warm and damp.

“About?” Din asked. Boba felt his pulse pick up, hammering harder against Boba’s thumb.

Din and Boba had promised each other honesty, when they were together like this. Boba knew that they’d blurred some of the lines between them, had started to spend perhaps too much time in each other’s company, had started to fail to keep their arrangement separate from their feelings, from their lives, from their business together, but here in this warm pool, fed by fresh water, decorated with rare plants, a testament to Jabba’s indulgences and to Boba’s too, since he’d restored the karking thing, Boba couldn’t bring himself to care much about how bad of an idea this all could turn out to be. How close he’d let Din get. The knife that Boba had put in Din’s hands and aimed at Boba’s belly.

Life, he thought, in the desert is hard. There’s no reason to make it any harder by denying myself a little bit of pleasure.

Boba told Din the truth. “I think,” he said, looking Din in the eye, “that I want to kiss you.”

#ast asks #ast 'verse pov tag #boba: i'm normal i'm normal i'm normal all of this is normal

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thegoodthegrandandtheugly · 5 months

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In regards to that other Arjuna post, I think everyone who hates on fans of a character because of one person / a general group of people are annoying as hell. Get a job man. Lol

A tale as old as time in any fandom. A person/group of people annoy another person/group of people and it causes friction due to conflicting personalities. The Fate fandom isn't unique in that.

In regards to some of the posts we've received about Arjuna, I will admit that, in hindsight, a few were more inflammatory than we should've posted, and in all likelihood we probably won't be posting things in that nature again. Complaining about specific fans a character has is fair game here, but there is a line that shouldn't be crossed. We'll be revising some of the rules in the near future because of that in an attempt to make things clearer for everyone.

I hope you, and everyone else, will allow us some grace. There's been a learning curve to running this blog for the both of us, especially in regards to what is and isn't too much or too far. Arjuna is the character we've gotten the most confessions about so far, which has been pretty surprising. I was honestly expecting more general complaints about the gacha and gameplay elements. Both of us who run this blog feel that venting and criticism has a justified place in fandom, especially nowadays where fandom is largely the only place where people online communicate with each other in a collective setting in any sort of positive way. It is necessary to be able to see an interpretation or a take you disagree with, and without critique and general criticism, it tends to lead to a different kind of fandom toxicity, where any dissent at all is seen as "causing problems", even if the dissent is about something more serious than a specific character interpretation such as elements of racism in the series (which fate grand order has) or inappropriately sexually charged art (which fate grand order also has).

That doesn't excuse that I've turned confessions into pictures that even I thought were too inflammatory for this blog. I do apologize for my missteps. Like I said, there has been a learning curve to this, and I was too lenient with how I interpreted our own rules.

Contrary to what some people might think, we're not doing this to try and cause problems, and we both feel that people should be able to see something the disagree with and be able to constructively regulate any negative emotions that come about. Criticism is not an inherently negative thing, but I will own up to the fact that I have difficulty knowing where to draw the line and say "this is too much".

We're trying to do our best and have some fun along the way. The bulk of the hate toward Arjuna and his fans has mostly passed for now, thankfully. Please feel free to send your grievances about any character, but I'll be honest and say there are only so many pictures of Arjuna I can use. I really wouldn't mind a break in the griping about him.

-Mod D

#not a post

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aneenasevla · 2 years

Text

Devil's Food - Chapter 9

MasterList /Ayami’s Profile/Previous

Chapter 9 - Competence

The other Monday, she got to work. Hollis was indeed experienced and quite fast in his job, but what held him back was always the amount of service, so her presence was most welcome, seeing as it halved, at the very least. As for her, with finally something to do other than wander around and tidy her room for the thousandth time, or being kicked off again of the laundry or kitchen by the old ladies for being “too young, and young times are made to train and have fun!”, Ayami couldn't be more pleased. Finally something to make her brain work!

At the end of the week, she delivers five separate huge piles, each with sticky notes of different colors.

“I finished organizing and inspecting these” she announces “these here are manufacturing and maintenance processes, these are records like marriage, birth and death, this is production record and these are purchase, input and output” then she hands over a last one, thinner than the others “these here, sir, are the ones that really need revision, I've marked it out with clear post-its and pencil notes, so you can see better.”

Hollis stared at the piles, then stood half still. Looked at her “have you checked and inspected all of this?”

“Yes sir.”

“That went faster than I expected,” he says, taking the pile she offered, the one to correct.

“I assure you, I'm doing what I can, sir. I'm no warrior, but I guarantee I can be strong in other areas. And office work is really something I'm good at, modesty aside, of course.”

“Of course,” he nods, still a little uncertain.

“Do you need anything else for today?”

“Y-yes. There's this pile here…” he indicates a last one “I thought that just what I had given you would overload you, but I didn't know I was dealing with a computer…”

She giggles, shrugging her shoulders a little “I think I scared you.”

“No, you just surprised me” he nods approvingly “I think I can count on you from now on.”

“Thank you” she takes the remaining pile and goes to her desk, in a corner of the room.

Almost immediately, Hollis felt the presence, the footsteps were all too familiar to him.

“How can I help you, Raian?” he says, even before the figure appears in the door.

“Here, plush wig” the killer enters the room, as if he owns the place, and half toss, half handles some documents to his cousin “the five pigs, sliced and served.”

“Good work, as always” he nods, picking up the papers slightly crumpled by the carelessness of the youngest “let's add to the record.”

“Yada-yada, you've done it a thousand times. You should already know my registration by heart.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t” he calls aside “Miss Yamagami…”

Ayami looks at the two from behind the pile of papers “You called, sir?” she then widens her eyes when facing the other, who looked as surprised as she was “Oh.”

“Hey!” he frowns, pointing at her while looking at his cousin, indignant “What the hell is she doing here?!”

“What else could she be doing? Working” Hollis hands her the paper “She's a lawyer, her best place is in the office.”

“Yes, I'm a legal assistant…” Ayami takes the paper, returning to focus on the service, assuming a serious expression “Should I put these in a separate pile, Mr Hollis?”

“Yes, these are special, color black, if possible, to send to the administrators of the special services section” he shows another one “and this one is for resources transfering, from the treasury, leave it in the purchase area, and record it , if possible, the way I taught.”

“Yes sir” she answered, going back to the computer diligently. Raian looks from one to the other still in disbelief.

“So the Mousie is working as your secretary?!” his voice had gone up a note in emphasis “Explain that again, you prick”

“She is not my secretary, you idiot. She is a lawyer for the town hall.”

“And what is she helping?” he then smiles maliciously “so you really realized that you couldn't handle your job anymore, right…?”

“No, I still can, but her presence certainly speeds up the process…”

“What do you mean by that?” He frowns, was going to say something when she comes back.

‘There, sir” she hands over the paper and puts it on the purchase register pile “I transferred the data and tidied the register. And I created a new pile too, the black one you asked for. About the transfer, the bank should respond soon…”

Raian felt his cell phone vibrate, and when he saw the screen, the transfer was complete. He raised an eyebrow, half unresponsive.

Taking advantage of him being distracted, Ayami whispers “Is he angry about something?”

“Who knows” Hollis shrugs “Satisfied, Raian? We have already settled your payment. Get your sorry ass away from the office.”

“Not yet!” he turns around, looks at Ayami “So… you work here now.”

“I already am, actually…” she says seriously.

“Why am I away whenever these things happen?” he looks at Hollis “I never get notified of anything…”

“This time it's really none of your business,” Hollis sighs, “it's hers… and you were out getting those pigs anyway, it's not like you could say anything either…”

“Ah, so that's it” he crosses his arms “For things related to my fiancée, I'm sent to graze and I don't know until I get back?”

“So you admit!” for the first time, Ayami saw Hollis crack a smile, but it came out malicious “You admit that she is your fiancée.”

“And what else would I call this Mouse, goddamn it!? My Hoe?!” he growls at his cousin.

Ayami's eyes widened, turning red, hiding her face behind the folder she was carrying. So… was he really interested? Did he really want…?

“Alright then, call it what you want, doesn’t change the facts” he looks at Ayami “Miss, is there anything else you still need to do…?”

“Oh, not urgently, but I'm already in the middle of that pile you gave me…”

“Great, leave it for next Monday, since it's Friday and it's not that urgent. Your shift is over today, you can go home.”

“Oh, okay” she bows “excuse me” and then turns to her desk to set herself up.

Hollis stares at Raian, speaking low sarcastically “Well, if you're feeling jealous of her being here, we're in the 21st century, and women can work, you know…”

“Jealous my ass… you know damn well what happens when someone takes my stuff.”

“She's not your 'stuff'...” Hollis grunts “and better that than her standing around Idle, being useless, don't you think?”

“Pff, riight… at least I got my money right away” he huffs, taking a last look at his phone before putting it back in his sweatpants “If she’s being useful, I’ll leave her there then, my business is done. Finally I don’t have to wait for you...uhhh” His mind trails off when he sees Ayami leaving the office, and follows her path with his head, almost in an automatic gesture. Hollis only watches the scene when the blonde exclaims a "Hey!" and go after her, closing the door behind him.

Hollis shakes his head, smiling with satisfaction.

…

Ayami walks fast, returning home, or rather, the room she was living in.

Although she was happy with him admitting to his cousin that she was his fiancée, she wasn't made of iron, and she wanted to hide her embarrassment before he found out and teased her about it, because from the experiences she'd had before, he would definitely use it against her.

And while she normally handles Raian's taunts well, today in particular she wasn't on her guard against anyone. And she sure as hell didn't want to face the Devil right now.

“Hey! Wait!” was his voice behind her.

She grips her bag a little tighter and quickens her pace instead. She hears his footsteps, surely faster than hers, and feels a hand grabbing his arm. She gasps at the sudden pressure and the slight ache from the force of the grip.

“I told you to stop,” he grunts as he turns her to face him.

“What's it? I'm going home…” Ayami felt her cheeks redden.

“Do you think you would get away like this, Mousie?” he grunts “Just say hi, and walk away like I don't exist?”

“Oh, so now you want attention?” she tries to free herself from his arm, without success “You could have told me instead of scolding your cousin as if I wasn't there. And I honestly don't see why you would be surprised by me, a trained and competent woman, working in an office.”

“And how I was going to guess that you would be there?”

“And who would have guessed that I have to give you satisfaction already? Let me go, please, more than that will hurt my arm. I will not run away.”

He looks at his hand holding her, and lets go. She doesn't run away, and turns to look at him. They stare at each other for a few seconds, as if they're competing to see who stares the most. She knew he meant something.

“Say what you mean” she indicates with her hand, serious.Raian had things on the tip of his tongue to say, he wanted to talk to her, or rather tease her, to say that he had discovered she was there because she was sold to the Kure, he wanted to reach out and say how helpless she was, at their mercy. , and that he should be careful not to provoke him… he had an ace up his sleeve, he had a trump card, and that he could use as much as he wanted…

But her stupid mind only went to her reading papers and recording things in an office, as if it were wrong for her to be there, spying on documents, dealing with matters pertaining only to the heads of the family. She wasn't family, that wasn't right...

“So you decided to work for Hollis…” He crosses his arms, that territorial feeling also tingling again.

“Not “to” but “with” him. I was nominated by Fusui because of that work I did for her. She was able to buy her own home, and she said it was because I made the land more accessible by reviewing the lease. They've seen that I'm competent and now I'm helping to organize the paperwork.”

“Paperwork…” He narrows his eyes, sarcastically.

“Yes, paperwork. Certificates, records, etc.”

“The treasury too? The whole city hall? Do you know our records too?”

Ayami wondered if he thought she was some kind of spy. Now she did have to explain her work too?

“No, I sent the record of your work to the treasury, with an urgent request because the work was done with excellence, as I believe is expected of you, and then apparently you received your commission soon after. You're welcome.”

“Huh…” he crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow “so you really sped up the process…”

“I like to organize things, you know…” she sighs “make it efficient and fast… the office was a mess, I spent the whole week just cataloging it all and organizing it… and I still don't think I finished it.”

He raises an eyebrow, starting to smirk. She started to feel like his ancestors have been bred in the past with some kind of shark men.

“Heh, so the Mousie is really proving useful…” His teasing tone was high as usual, and her patience lowered.

“I wish you wouldn't call me that…” she whimpers.

"’I wish you didn't call me that’...” he imitates with a falsetto tone “You're mine, I'll call it what the hell I want.”

“I'm not yours, people don't belong to people…”

“Ah but yes, you are…” he smiles, surrounding her “you are a Mousie that was brought, or rather, delivered to our custody, under mysterious circumstances involving your swords. I know you're not here for what you want. So why don't you just leave? HHmm?” he approaches her face “the door is right there, just run away, I'll let you… just be careful, there's a sniper ready, right at that watchtower… and honestly I think he has a loose finger problem…”

Ayami felt a shiver down her spine. How much did he know? She didn't want to think about it, and she didn't want to know either.

“I won't…” she grunts “I'm not an idiot, as you think. And I'm here because I want to, Raian” she stares at him “but I'm nothing for you but a suitor. If you want to talk to me about it, fine, but it's not teasing me that's going to get me out of line, you know that.”

“That's what we'll see” he smiles a little more, hands in his pockets “I have more where that came from. I'm insufferable, if you want to do this, hold on.”

“I'm completely used to unbearable people, I'm very serene with you by my side, aren't I?”

“Not as much as it was the other day. I feel your patience wearing thin. I want to know how far you're going, little mouse. And until then, yes, you are mine.”

“If I'm yours, you're a hell of a…” She holds her mouth to keep from cursing. Don't get down to his level, Ayami “of a…” her head short-circuited. She couldn't think straight, tired as she was.

“Uh… uuh… what?” he imitates her with an altered voice, pouting and smiling afterwards “you can't think of anything, right?”

She grunts and turns around, frustrated “uuggh, no.”

He erupts into one of his hyena laughs, walking behind her as she walks “see how good it is, Mousie? What's it like to swallow your own poison?”

“Rats don't have poison…”

“I’m sure as fuck you have.”

“And by the way you came back for more, you got addicted, right?”

“No, but it's fun. Even more so when I win. I'm enjoying the taste of victory.”

“Bad winner you are… or bad loser.”

“You who are a terrible loser, are even going out with your tail between your legs-”

“I'm going home after a whole week of work” she stops and looks at him “you caught me at a time when I'm not in the mental capacity to answer you anything. Come on, don't you have anyone else to bother?”

“Are you tired, Mousie?” he mocks, smiling mischievously.

She sighs, already feeling a headache “Good to know you're in a good mood, Raian. But I do not.”

“Great, you always put me in a bad mood, it's time to give some back.”

She sighs “so that’s it? Okay then…” she continues walking, scowling “thanks for the company, I guess.”

“You're welcome, my dear” he mocked with a low voice as he smiled as they started walking again.

…

“Hey Ginzo... “ an old woman called her husband, while he was sitting, dozing on the porch smoking a pipe. When he didn't respond, she nudges him “Wake uuuppp, Ginzo! There's something goin’ on here!”

He opens his Kure's dark eyes at her, under his furry old brows, the same as the old lady.

“What is it, woman?”

“Isn't that Raian over there? From the old Mighty Demon Erioh?”

The old man looks at the couple walking on the cobblestone path, and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s him… and accompanying a girl… must be his famous Bride Candidate who people were talking about these days.”

“They don't seem to be fighting, don't they? She is bearing such a foul face…”

“She's saying ‘thanks for the company’ and he's ‘you're welcome, my dear’...” the old man read the lips of the two, one of the clan's skills “Welp, they seem to get along well together…”

“Could it be, Ginzo?”

“I don’t know, but if so, It’s a miracle! Finally he is interested in someone, God bless them…”

“Oh I hope so…” she smiles with joy

No one else saw the couple like that that late afternoon, but the old woman was an utterly experienced gossiper.

…

“It's here… thanks for accompanying me” Ayami takes off her shoes before entering.

“Oh, yea, this is where you hide” he observes while imitating her “I know this house already…”

“I can imagine” she opens the bedroom door “now, if she'll excuse me, good night…”

He stops her from closing the door completely. She stares at him.

“What's it…?” She sighs, almost grunting.

“I want to go in.”

She stared at him, a little flustered, her mouth even opening a little.

“I… ah… no?”

“Why not?”

“Because… because we don’t have the intimacy for this…”

“And how are we going to have intimacy if we don't let me in? You even let Fusui in, which I know…”

“Fusui is a woman, and I'm not into…” she short-circuited again, looks him up and down, his silhouette under the light of the electric light outside “no, eh…” she blushes more.

He smiles even more.

“Finish the sentence, Mousie, this is annoying. I even think your sharp tongue has lost its edge…”

“I'm tired, leave me be!” she finally lets go, annoyed.

“Oh, so you really are tired…?” He narrows his eyes, forcing the sliding door open, while she uselessly makes the opposite effort. But clearly she was losing inch by inch “So why do you still have the strength to protest? How long are you going to hold it?”

“It’s I who…” her voice squeaky with effort “who should ask you that… did you ever heard of limits?”

“Boundaries within my own house? You're in my turf, not the other way around, Mousie. I go wherever I want, and you?”

“Then why don't you go to your room?” Her knuckles were white, while he seemed to be enjoying the tug-of-war with the door.

“I want to enter this one” he smiles still, the motherfucker.

“Great Fiancée you are” she retorts “you don't know how to respect the privacy of others, will you want to change clothing in here too?”

“Ohhh… so you want to get to that point already?” He smiles even more “OooOoohhhhh…I’m starting to like you, ehhehe.”

She turns extremely red, and grunts in anger. She didn't have the composure for that at the moment.

“Vade retro Satan!” she pushes him with her own body out, only it was the same as hitting a wall. He laughs and shoves her back with his shoulder, causing her to drop the door and stumble and fall on her ass on the floor with a groan. Raian laughs, that annoying hyena laugh.

“I win” he hums, entering the room and closing the door behind him “Theere, was it difficult?” He shrugs. She quickly backs away, standing up.

“I still don't want you here,” she grumbles seriously.

“And I don't want you, we're even” he counters. That made her turn her face away, still red. That hurt. She starts to try to put her things away, trying to ignore him. It wasn't like she wanted to answer that.

He, in turn, finally observes where the woman was living. It was, as he'd expected, a typical one-bedroom of the communal houses of the Village, not like the rooms in the old man's mansion, but comfortable. Low single bed, a low desk, a dresser, a closet, the bathroom on the side, and that was it. All made of wood except for the bathroom, the paper door and a few centuries-old decorations here and there.

Just one thing he found strange.

Everything was perfectly clean and organized, practically as if no one was living there. Okay, just a folded outfit on the bed that he assumed were pajamas, and the desk with a few items full of sticky notes, just like the ones on her desk in the office. But still, perfectly organized.

Either she was obsessive-compulsive, or she couldn't stand clutter. He hoped it was neither.

“Yeah, this is my room” she says “satisfied?”

“Hnm” he shrugs “ surprisingly normal, for an office Mouse like you.”

“I know, there's nothing impressive” she grunts, in a bad mood, taking her nightclothes and a towel “you're not going to invade me in the bathroom either, right?”

“It's an invitation?” he smiled.

“No!” she exclaims, dashing into the bathroom and closing the door. He chuckled softly, continuing to explore the room. As she had said, "Know the enemy as yourself," and his mind, honed by years of strategy training, was teeming with theories and a curiosity sparked by the unique opportunity to discover other people's territory.

However, after a quick scan of the room, the only thing that seemed worth seeing was the desk, so he headed straight for it.

Among the books, he could see various subjects. Social studies, civil law, economics… all of them duly marked with those little colorful notes sticking out of the pages, as if the books were dressed up for a carnival. A French-Japanese dictionary, an English-Japanese dictionary, and further up, a thin laptop. He muttered a sound of interest under his breath, and took it to observe better. Oh, it was a good one, as expected of a family of good standing like hers, but he wondered if she could get access to the internet there, as most of the village still didn’t have proper wi-fi. And, in one corner, headphones with an old-timey mp3 player. He was curious about the artifact, he hadn't had one of these in years. He put one of the headphones in his ear and turned it on, listening to the first song.

It wasn't music.

“Studies indicate that the victim was tied to a post below, in the basement, and with signs of abuse for at least two weeks…” he listened to the narrator of the podcast speak. Oh, he knew that. It was one of those from True Crimes. He nodded, his expression enigmatic, smirking and turning off the device, putting it away where he'd found it.

Other than that, notebooks, one of them with thick paper and some watercolor brushes, as well as one of those cheap children’s watercolor paints. Judging by the concentration of things piled up just on the study table, she seemed to be one of those people who just had that to amuse herself.

Typical bookworm. Introverted and shy. And apparently, extremely reserved, there were some things there that he could use against her, but he had to admit to himself, he liked the subjects of the books. And the podcast. Horror and crime drama were two of his favorite genres before real life, the real thing, became more interesting and more believable than what was told by a narrator.

After analyzing it, and finding nothing like a diary or any of those awkward things girls tend to have, other than a completely normal planner, practically dull with practicality, he concluded his search, and huffed a little frustrated.

She wasn't exactly saltless, and she didn't seem like the type of person who had a lot of fun either. She looked like she lived to work, and, at best, had something to distract her so her brain wouldn't boil over.

Finishing his research, he tossed himself on the bed, laying down there, eyes closed, arms behind his head.

It was then that he smelled it. It wasn't strong, in fact he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't thrown himself on the bed… it was subtle like that. But there was a smell, and he turned his nose to the pillow. He recognized it as her scent, yes, but concentrated like that, there was something else. This “something more” made him very curious… and calm… his mind felt numb, but he was still wide awake, almost as if he was under the influence of a narcotic. Strange… he knew there were no drugs there… and he wasn’t drowsy…

…

Ayami really hoped he was gone after she had entered the bathroom. Who knew what kind of preposterous secrets he'd discovered about her, and she really didn't feel like dealing with him anymore today. Not that it was the end of the world and he was a relentless torturer, but it was just that her patience used to be almost nil when she was mentally tired, and that could make her do something stupid.

And she didn't want to do the same thing as the first time they'd spoken. Her hand went straight to her neck, in memory of last week. Taking a deep breath, she returned her focus to finishing brushing her teeth, calming herself. He wouldn't do that anymore, she wouldn't allow room for that kind of thing.

She knew she had to conquer him somehow, but she didn't expect him to break into her room… was he going to try anything…? She shivers from head to toe. No, it wouldn't be good, it would be something else for him to use against her, and she really didn't want that. The priority was wanting him to marry, but she didn't want to appeal to that just yet, she barely knew him, it wouldn't be worth it.

Anything still had the beep device, which Hollis had given, if she triggered it, she'd be safe. She nodded to herself. Safe, she was safe. She repeated it a few times, like a mantra, as she finished getting ready and tidied up the bathroom. She took her time, as if to reassure him that he would lose his temper and leave.

She came out of the bathroom, much better for being clean and everything organized…

To find him lying on top of her bed. Sleeping.

She huffed in frustration, but concentrated on spreading out the towel and putting the dirty clothes in the hamper, folded.

When she saw that she had nothing else for her to do to occupy herself at the moment, she approached him, watching him, while working up the courage to wake him up and kick him out of the room for good. She turned to face him to call out.

But she was surprised to see… just a man.

Not a Devil, or a Kure, or whatever he was. His closed eyes and relaxed expression hid most of the frown lines he used to show on his face, and now he looked his age. And while the widow's peak in his hair gave that impression, his hairline actually had no signs of balding. And… yeah, her question has been answered. That pale blond, almost ivory, of his hair was natural, right down to his eyelashes. She wondered where that color had come from, his sister had black hair, most of his family did, he didn't seem to be some sort of albino, Ayami couldn't say.

And as she'd seen him again, he really was a big man, built for combat, with those muscles looking as if they'd been carefully sculpted, she could even see the veins and some tendons sticking out in his forearms, and arms. One or two scars, but not many. Fusui had said that the Kure were resistant to pain and healed even a little faster than normal people, so it was likely that those must have been ugly, to show up on thick skin. She noticed that, under the shirt, she could see his voluminous chest, rising and falling with steady breathing. She had no doubt that he had at least a six-pack in there too, and his legs practically made his sweatpants look tight.

Yeah, he didn't look so bad when he was relaxed, it would even have fooled an unsuspecting Ayami if she had seen this handsome side before all else. She shrugged her shoulders, in the end that wasn't really what mattered, after all…

“See something you liked there…?” she heard him speak, and she almost jumped in fright. She turned to his face and his eyes were open, the silver pupils staring at her. She needed to regain some of her composure, which was already lacking.

“I was working up the courage to wake you” her voice was low.

“I wasn’t sleeping” he smiles a little “I knew you were delaying on purpose.”

“And why did you stay?”

“Because you wanted me to go.” He smiles mischievously. She could make out even tiny fangs in his teeth. Probably designed to intimidate.

“So by your logic, I have to want you to stay, to leave…?”

“No, it means the house is mine and I only go out if I want to.” He crosses his arms behind his head.

“Raian…” she warns.

“Mousie…?” He looks at her, smiling at her.

Ayami grunts, I really didn't feel like arguing this time “I bet your bed is way better than mine, so why don't you go there?”

“I'm having fun here, unlike you.”

He sees her huffing again, her hand over her face, then walking across the room to her desk. Raian leans on his elbows.

“Already gave up?” He raised an eyebrow, seeing her open one of the notebooks and take a pencil “you were so determined to make me leave.”

“I said, I'm tired. And since you've monopolized my bed, then I'd better do something else with my life other than argue with you.”

“Hnm… that sucks” Raian frowns “you really are saltless” he huffs, sitting on the back of the bed, crossing his arms.

“Oh yea? You don't know anything about me, you might be surprised” she was still giving attention to the notebook, doodling something.

“I know a lot about you now, just by looking at this desk.”

“Oh yea? And what did you discover?”

“I will not reveal the information to the enemy.”

“It's all right. No need, I already know myself.” She shrugs. He doesn't disagree “I'd like to meet you though.”

“Go figure me out. Aren't you the smart badass Sherlock Mousie and everything?”

"Okay," she chuckled softly. “I’ll do my best”

The two are silent for a moment, with only the sound of the crickets outside indicating the coming night and the sound of her working at the table. Raian can't resist and looks at her “Whatcha’ doing?”

“Doodling.”

“I know you're doodling, I want to know what you're doodling.”

“When I'm done, you'll know.”

He frowns his eyes, and gets up from the bed, curiosity getting the better of him. She immediately tries to hide it, but he stops her from closing the notebook.

The two stare at each other, he threatening, she angrily, but sighs.

“Okaaay... I’m not done yet, but you can see” Ayami blushes, letting him open the notebook. It was an amateurish drawing of a face, with spiky hair and black eyes, shark teeth in a very cartoonish face.

He widens his eyes and starts laughing.

“Hey!! It's me…!”

“It's kind of amateurish, but it still needs to be painted.”

“Hell yea, are really fucking bad at it, but I can tell it’s me” he leans close to the desk “there's only one thing missing.”

“Oh? And what is it?”

He takes the pencil from her hand and scribbles, completing the drawing.

“Okay, now it's really me.” He declares, satisfied.

She holds a laugh “seriously you did that with your own drawing?”

“Why not? Now I'm handsome.”

“Okay, if you like it…” she takes the sheet of the notebook “here.”

He stares at the paper, then she “Wait, are you giving me this?’

“Yes, you seemed to like it. You can throw it away if you want, but it's yours.”

Raian stares at her, and frowns, snatching the paper brusquely “hnmm… okay, I'll take it. It's my image, after all.”

“Whatever makes you sleep better, Raian.” She shrugs. He looks at her with a frowning expression.

“Whatever” he heads for the door, and stops a few inches “oh, I think you'll like to know. The idiots who stole the Yamanoito swords from your family…” he looks at her “I took care of them personally” smiled mischievously, then left.

She widens her eyes. Feeling a shiver down her spine. She wanted to smile, because they were smugglers and terrorists, so it was a good thing, but she also felt her heart miss a beat.

He didn't know anything about what happened either.

Next Chapter Here

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kenganverse #heavybakery #devilsfood #kengan oc #fanfiction #raian kure #kure raian

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eliseitzme · 2 years

Text

Candy Apple(AMBW)/ Cp.1

Part of the “RED” Series

(Candy Apple RED)

Warnings: Cursing

Revised

Y/N / pov

*BEEp* *BeeP* bEEp*

"Uhhhh, no, please just five more minutes."

*BeEp* *beep* BEEP*

"Noooooooo!"

*BEEP* BEEP*BEEEEP*

"Shut up!"

"OHH MY GOD IF YOU DON'T SHUT THAT THING UP!"

"Okay okay!" I say getting up and shutting off my alarm clock.

Turning to the other side of the bed I saved the horrific experience of seeing my best friend and her bed head still sprawled out over the bed and asleep.

"WAAkKKEEEE UPPPP!" I shout in hope of waking her up.

"UHHH. You hateful bitch."

"Come on, we have school to get up." I say walking over to the bathroom door not without hearing a mumble coming from her mouth.

Sitting on the toilet I watch as Diamond stools in and stands in front of the mirror.

"Nooo, my scarf slipped last night, and my lace lifted. I literally spent hours on this last night." she pouts.

I clean myself and stand up from the toilet as she walks back in with lace glue in hand.

Washing my hands, I watch in the mirror as she applies the glue and attempts to smooth back down her lace front. After getting it in a decent position she grabs her hair scarf off the counter and ties it around her head, and then pulling out the blow dryer as I dry my hands.

"I'm going to take a shower first!" she shouts as I walk out of the bathroom back into our bedroom.

I take a seat back on the bed and pick my phone off of the charger on the night stand next to my side of their bed.

Me and Dia have been best friends since diapers. My mom happened to be her mom's close friend and hair stylist, so that left us a lot of time to play together. First crushes, first boyfriend, first day of school you name it we went through it all together and so did our moms. With them both being single parents we in a way were all kind of a family. But we had to say goodbye to half of our family 3 years ago when our moms were on a girl's trip and the plane had an unexpected crash, or that's what the airline said.

That left me and Dia with nothing but each other. We had to learn how to look out for ourselves at only fourteen years old. With neither of us having anyone that would come forward we were then sent to a foster home, thankfully we were not separated and were then adopted a few months later by Miss. Jane or MJ. She took care of us as if we were her own kids and for that we are forever grateful. But with it being me and Dia's senior year of high school with neither of us having any way to pay for college we needed a diploma from a prestigious high school or an at least average one, and the high schools where Mj lives are far from that. So, when Dia turned eighteen, seven months ago it was our chance to move from the Bronx and currently attend one of the best schools in New York. With Graduation around the corner scholarships are being handed around like candy every day at School, to everyone but...me. Dia has nearly four scholarships already in all of the places in which I have been denied. But that's not a surprise she always has been smart while I just barely get by. With the looks of it now, if I don't magically land a scholarship or stumble over a hidden treasure, I won't be attending college. Or at most will have to attend online college. I mean I'm seventeen and to be honest I'm not even sure what I want to do with my life. My mom was my source of imagination. She encouraged me to dream and be whoever I wanted to be. But when she died, so did my imagination. I then realized that certain dreams I had were the dreams of a child which I could no longer be. I then began to focus on simply surviving enough to see tomorrow, and with Dia around It has been a lot easier than most people in my position would say alone.

After calling Mj and making sure everything is alright back home, I began to scroll through Instagram. I was looking at a new post on Got7's Instagram announcing their first album since leaving their old shitty company when a friend of mine that I met online and have been texting messaged me.

JBootie: BITCH!!⚠️

Y/n: What!

JBootie: I figured it out.

Y/n: Figured out?

JBootie: How you can go to college! JBootie: What else?

Y/n: Ohh Y/n: So, what crazy ass idea are you going to throw my way this time.

JBootie: Two words

Y/n: Which are????

JBootie: SUGAR...DADDY!!!!

Y/n: Yeah!

Y/n: Not going to happen

JBootie: Come on, I joined one last night. JBootie: WE CAN BE SUGAR BUDDIES!!!!!🤪

Y/n: Okay first, why would you join a sugar daddy site? 🤨Two sugar buddies really? three ...NOOO

JBootie: Well one you can never have too much money. Two yes sugar buddies...should also be a site. Three YES!! I should get that copyrighted.

I was mid laugh when the sound of Dia exiting out of the bathroom in a robe brought me back to reality.

"I'm done you can go now."

" Alright thanks" I said.

I got up and walked to the bathroom shutting the door behind me to get ready and shower for school, not before texting Jimin.

Y/n: Lmao. Got to get ready for school talk later. 😘

JBootie: Okay I'll text you the site.!!😘

Y/n: Not going to need it but okay.

JBootie: www.sugababbie.com. Thank me later💙

*Author note*

I'm so glad to introduce this story this is a theme I have wanted to right for a while now so glad I could put it into words...DONT FORGET TO like and comment 1002 words not including images or pictures

AN: I UPLOAD ALL CHAPTERS ON WATTPAD FIRST ANDMIGHT UPLOAD THEM LATER ON HERE SINCE I AM CURRENTLY BASED ON WATTPAD SO PLEASE BE SURE TO CHECK THERE FIRST FOR ANY CONTENT NOT YET HERE!

#jimin #park jimin #bts #bts army #bts namjoon #btsrm #bts rm fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #rm fanfic #rm fanfiction #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoonkim #ynxnamjoon #candy apple

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mugzymiik · 3 months

Text

MugzyMiik's Revised Introduction Post

because the old one was so damn unorganized

HII HII HELLOOO!!! I'M MUGS!!! OR OCTOBER!!! OR CYANIDE!!! OR GOLD!!! OR MIIK!!! OR DAKOTA!!! Feel free to call me literally anything at all though, as long as I'll be able to recognize it as me that you're referring to I don't mind at all :D

(Mugs and October are the names that are used the most for me, however; Dakota is only for IRLs and/or mutuals!!!)

I use any and all pronouns!!!

(Yeah, this includes neopronouns! If you don't support neopronouns and/or harass people for using/supporting them, get the fuck off my page right now. If you don't support us, I don't support you, asshat. <3)

Before You Interact:

I am a MINOR. I may make a FEW suggestive jokes here and there, but in the end, I AM ONLY 16. Keep that in mind if you are interacting with me and over 18.

I have autism, ADHD and anxiety. I also have a hard time reading tone in general, so tone tags would be very much appreciated when interacting with me!

I use all capital letters a lot!!! I'm a pretty easily-excited person in general, and when I'm pretty damn excited, I go all bananas, keyboard-smashing and all. So please don't think I'm "yelling" at you if I ever say something in all caps!!! I'm just horsing around, I promise!!!

I swear a lot. So if this bothers you, please tell me, and I'll make an honest attempt to refrain from swearing around you!

I'm very childish sometimes. If you don't like that, sorry, I guess? Block me and move on if you don't...?

Do NOT Interact If You:

Are racist, homophobic, transphobic, sexist, and/or are just a bigoted piece of shit in general (YES, as mentioned before, this Includes people who are against neopronouns. Fuck off.)

Are transrace/transabled/transage/transx/transid/whatever the hell you fuckers say you are. You're an embarrassment to humanity, stop fucking intruding on LGBTQ+ terms. You are not welcome here, and you never will be. :)

Support "proship", or whatever the term is, at all. I personally think it should actually be referred to as "proshit", but go off I guess :) Yes, this also goes alongside """MAP"""s entirely. Just use the actual term. You know what it is. Same as above: you are NOT welcome here. Ever.

Use and/or support the use of Al "art"– art can only be considered art if it was made with some kind of passion, which literally all humans on Earth have. An Al doesn't have passion. Al can't create art, it can only steal from those who do.

Engage in and/or support the use of cryptocurrency/NFTs

Are here to cause drama

Are supporters/friends of Cintagonisupset + Kerf

Even just associate with constant_hungr / hxngr / ravesrage / whatever the fuck he decides to call himself now or later on. Do NOT fucking try to even "pass on a message", I don't want to even fucking THINK of him.

Are just a shitty person overall

My Tags:

General Tags:

#mmmramblez - My rambling tag

#mugzy art - My art tag

#mugzy replies - My ask tag

#mugzy shitposts - Funy :3c

#mugzys drawing ideas - My tag for things I might wanna draw later (mostly cursed images)

#things mugs needs later - It's a surprise tool that will help us later! /j/ref

#MUG FRIENDOS - Me and the boyes (/gn) skittering to the kitchen to find some BEANS >:]

Fandom-Related Tags:

#Tsavorite hugs everybody - You're next. :] /j [PAUSED AS OF RIGHT NOW]

#shattered body but not spirit au - The tag for my Pink Corruption AU [WARNING FOR DEATH]

#pink corruption warriors au - The tag for a Pink Corruption AU I co-own with some friends!

#tpc leg day au - The tag for my Pink Corruption crack AU, where everything is the same, except monsters are just normal shapes with very long legs

#jsab disloyalty au - The tag for my Just Shapes & Beats AU

#tpc shorts but also not - The tag for a """series""" I'm doing; just random "skits" for The Pink Corruption that ideas for pop into my head from time to time

#ancestry life MORE LIKE- - My tag for an elemental-powered Warriors roleplay server I won't stfu about

#mugzys tpc designs - My "interpretation designs" for all the characters from The Pink Corruption >:]

Blogs I Run/Help Run:

@askgoldnco - Ask blog for Gold, Tsavorite, Cyanide, and many others from The Pink Corruption! [VERY HEADCANON-HEAVY; ALSO PAUSED AS OF RIGHT NOW]

@pinkcorruption-verysillyedition - The Pink Corruption incorrect quotes blog! Submissions are (almost) always open!

@cats-turn-naturally-pink-somehow - The Pink Corruption x Warriors AU blog!

@shattered-body-but-not-spirit - The Pink Corruption AU blog where Tsavorite is killed by a very familiar corrupt upon the caretakers group reaching The Land of Spheres. Though... What's this? ...Wait– HE'S A GHOST?! [DEATH CW; NOT AT ALL DESCRIBED, THOUGH IT'S STILL A BIG THEME OF THE AU]

@angry-nacho-boy - "In-character" blog for Gold! [VERY HEADCANON-HEAVY]

@falseparadiseau - Ask blog for my OTHER Just Shapes & Beats AU, False Paradise! (One and Two should totally kiss btw /silly)

@the-false-hero-of-paradise - BUG BLOG!!! BUG BLOG!!! >:D

People On Here That Are Really Cool And You Should Absolutely Follow (If You Want)! :D:

@darkhatkid - Scares the shit out of me every time she swears /silly

@sleepless-tea - TEA!!! CYAN FOUND THE CORPSE /HEVJ/ij

@taxi-dummy - I stole their clown shoes joke :3c

@cowboytorrenter - We like bagel boys in this household /j/ij

@tasty-eggs - Big bald forehead

@the-road-kill - WON'T STOP HAVING ROMANTIC AFFAIRS WITH MY MOTHER /j/lht

@trash-jsab - 🫵 GIVE ME YOUR CHARACTERS, WE FEAST AT DAWN BITCHES /HEVJ/SILLY

@dykekitties - Flowerpower CEO

@comet--crusaders - I AM EATING YOUR ART BITCH THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME /lhj/silly

(By the way, if any one of my mutuals wants to be on here, just ask! I don't bite :D)

My Fandoms:

Just Shapes & Beats/The Pink Corruption

Warriors

Stray

The Amazing Digital Circus

My Favorite Characters:

Cube (JSaB/TPC)

Gold (JSaB/TPC)

Tsavorite (JSaB/TPC)

Cyanide (TPC)

Lythorus/Lycanthropy (JSaB/TPC)

Longtail (Warriors)

Bluestar (Warriors)

Ravenpaw (Warriors)

Sandstorm (Warriors)

Yellowfang (Warriors)

Cinderpelt (Warriors)

Littlecloud (Warriors)

Goldenflower (Warriors)

Ferncloud (Warriors)

Feathertail (Warriors)

Purdy (Warriors)

Squirrelflight (Warriors)

Leafpool (Warriors)

Gray Wing (Warriors)

Jagged Peak (Warriors)

Turtle Tail (Warriors)

Clementine (Stray)

Seamus (Stray)

B-12 (Stray)

Pomni (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Gangle (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Zooble (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Bubble (The Amazing Digital Circus)

My Other Socials:

Regular Socials:

Discord: @/mugzymiik

YouTube: @/mugzymiik

TikTok: @/mugzgotlozt

Twitter: @/MugzyMiik

Art Socials:

DeviantArt: @/MugzyMiik

Toyhou.se: @/MugzyMiik

Art Fight: @/mugzymiik

Posts I've Made That Contain, In My Opinion, Pretty Cool Stuff:

Commission information [WIP]

List of all of my OCs [WIP]

List of my headcanons for The Pink Corruption

Masterlist for Just Shapes & Beats: Disloyalty AU things [WIP]

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

#pinned post #user info post

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ltwilliammowett · 4 years

Text

Lady of Trafalgar

When during the battle of trafalgar the boats went out to collect possible survivors, the crew of the HMS Pickle’s boat didn’t believe their eyes as they fished a naked woman out of the water.

Lady of Trafalgar by Patrick O’Brien, 2019

But so a certain Jack Nastyface wrote the following:

“Among those who were thus preserved from a watery grave was a young Frenchwoman who was brought aboard our ship in a state of complete nakedness. Although it was in the heat of battle, yet she received every assistance which was at that time in our power; and her distress of mind was soothed as well as we could; until the officers got to their chests, from whence they furnished her with needles and thread to convert sheets into chemises and curtains from their cots to make somewhat of a gown and other garments so that by degrees she was made as comfortable as circumstances would admit; for we all tried who would be most kind to her”. It turned out that the young woman concerned was a survivor of the French Achille and was the wife of one of that ships crew who could not bear to be separated from him when he was ordered to sea. Disguising herself as a boy, she had entered the ship with him and had served at his side until she was told that he had been killed during the battle. Her reaction to his apparent death gave her away.

Lady of Trafalgar, by Patrick O’Brien, 2017

The rescue of the Frenchwoman was described by Captain Moorsom in a letter to his father dated 4th December 1805:

“When the Achille was burning, she (Jeanette) got out of the gunroom port and sat on the rudder chains till some melted lead ran down upon her and forced her to strip and leap off. She swam to a spar where several men were, but one of them bit and kicked her till she was obliged to quit and get to another which supported her til she was taken by The Pickle and sent on board the Revenge. Amongst the men she was lucky enough to find her husband. We were not wanting in civility to the lady. I ordered her two Purser’s shirts to make a petticoat; and other of the officers found something to clothe her*; in a few hours, Jeanette was perfectly happy.”

*One of Revenge’s lieutenants gave Jeanette a length of blue sprigged muslin he had intended for his wife and the Chaplain gave her a pair of his old shoes. Jeanette, originally a dressmaker, quickly made herself a jacket and dress in the Flemish fashion. Additionally she was given a blanket, two pairs of white stockings and two silk handkerchiefs.

Anecdote at the Battle of Trafalgar, 21 October 1805 by William Heath

Each of the officers in HMS Revenge gave the woman a silver dollar and when the ship limped into Gibraltar after enduring the storm which followed the battle, the woman and her husband were put into a Cartel ship which took them both to Spain.

#naval history #naval anecdots #lady of trafalgar #21 october 1805 #please do not be surprised I have revised the old post #age of sail

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luxaryllis · 2 years

Note

HELLO!! hai! I really love your Sibling!reader book so much! And you also write for Hetalia!! May i request "Aph China!reader with the dorm leader"?? Of course, if you want to ♥️

Hetalia!China!Reader with TWST Dorm Leaders

Note: OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH!! MY FIRST REQUEST!!! And of course! I'll be assuming that the reader is also the personification of China, like Yao. If you meant otherwise, then please feel free to send in another request!! Also, I will be making lots of references to the English dub (specifically with the Aiyahh thing, and some lines China says). Also, the most I'll be doing for this are first impressions, some learning more abt each other, becoming friends, and also post-overblots too! I'll also be adding how they react to finding out that reader is a country personification, if that's alright. If you want me to add a little drabble of an interaction, feel free to request it! Also, this will be mainly platonic, since that is my default; but you can also imagine it as romantic if you want! Also, for Ignihyde and Diasomnia, since I don't know the full plot of theirs (as well as the characters themselves), their parts might be a bit shorter; but I will try my best to make it as accurate as possible!

Also, I personally think that China is JUST like Lilia. Both are old, ancient, fatherly(?), have raised kids, definitely great fighters! The only difference is that China can actually cook great food! No offense, Lilia-

And please note that this was not meant or intended to offend anyone. And that all mentions of 'China' refer to Yao himself/Aph China, unless said otherwise, the same with other countries meantioned. Please tell me if you found anything here offensive and I will try to revise it. Thank you!

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts

🌹 The Welcoming Ceremony thing was so confusing for Riddle.

🌹 Imagine how he felt when he saw this magicless student suddenly KICK the headmage! And the strange cat-racoon-tanuki monster!

🌹 With amazing form all throughout! Even after literally SOMEHOW JUMPING THROUGH FIRE?!?!?

🌹 They were also very loud! The ceremony is a SOLEMN occasion! Do they have no sense of proper decorum?! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!

🌹 Riddle wished he could just off that student's head!! Except said student had no magic at all!

🌹 Not only that! But right after kicking the headmage and the monster, they say, "Aiyahh. These people and this talking cat is so immature, they'll probably never grow up. Ah yes! Would you like to sample some Chinese tasty treats?!" SO NONCHALANTLY!! (If you get this reference, please be my friend lmaoo)

🌹 Disrespect to not only the occasion, but the headmage AND THE STUDENTS!?! OFF WITH THEIR HEAD!!!

🌹 Yeah... not exactly the best experience.

🌹 After the whole dwarf mine incident, he hears that the magicless student from the ceremony AND THE MONSTER became an official student?! With the former being a dorm leader of Ramshackle?!?!

🌹 Goodness, he can only hope those troublemakers won't be causing any trouble.

🌹 Then he hears that the Tart Thief (Ace) took refuge in Ramshackle?! Goodness!

🌹 During the Lunch scene (when Cater, and Trey meet ADeuce and Grim), he sees a very... strange? sight.

🌹 Do you wanna know what he sees? Well, he sees the Ramshackle prefect cooking food, feeding Grim, and shoving other food on Cater, Trey, Ace, and Deuce's plates (and mouths, if they weren't talking). ALL AT ONCE?!?!

🌹 Yes, Riddle. This is the power of a 4000+ year old nation 🙂

🌹 Anyway! After those scenes and stuff, Riddle's first impression of the prefect is that they are loud, obnoxious, weird, pushy, fearless, and strangely efficient in cooking food.

🌹 The Ramshackle prefect probably force-fed Riddle with one of the food. And while he would usually off the head of the person who would DARE do that to him, he couldn't help but stop and enjoy the food-

🌹 When he sees them in the Unbirthday Party, he's actually surprised to see that the Heartslabyul uniform looks pretty good in the Ramshackle prefect... (Red looks good in Aph China, let's face it, everyone)

🌹 When Riddle went apesh*t on the fact that Ace brought a Mont Blanc/Marron Tart, you (the Ramshakle prefect) were NOT happy 😠

🌹 Like, you were probably like, "AIYAHH!! HOW DARE YOU SAY NO TO THAT TART THEY PAINSTAKINGLY MADE FOR YOU!? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! I EVEN PUT IN SOME OF MY SECRET INGREDIENTS THERE!! AND YOU STILL SAY NO?!?! AISSHHH I WILL DROP KICK YOU UNTIL YOU ACTUALLY TAKE IT AND EAT IT!! (Insert you saying a couple of insults, curse words, and other stuff in Chinese)

🌹 Okay, Riddle stopped understanding what you were saying once you started ranting about it. But while he couldn't even understand what you were even saying in that weird language of yours, why does he feel bad?!?!

🌹 That is the power of Asian parent rant/scold/talk.

🌹 But then, Deuce mentioned something about Tyranny, and suddenly the prefect went quiet??

🌹 You suddenly went quiet when Deuce mentioned it being tyrannical or dictatorial. (Insert all of the instances China has mentioned these, as well as China's history with it-)

🌹 Anyway, during Riddle's Overblot, you definitely beated the ink out of the weird monster behind him-

🌹 You probably beat him with a wok you somehow pulled out??? (You prolly pulled it out of your @ss)

🌹 Anyway, after his overblot, you confront Riddle about his past.

🌹 You also say a lot of wise things, making Riddle surprised.

🌹 You also somehow pull out a lot of great food, pastries, and other stuff and feed them to Riddle while he was recovering.

🌹 After that, Riddle realizes how kind and wise you are. Sure, you're also a pain in the neck to deal with, but you also know how to be mature, which he appreciates.

🌹 You also prepare some food for him and the rest of Heartslabyul. You help Trey in the kitchen a lot too.

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar:

🦁 Oh? A little herbivore actually kicked the headmage and their supposed "familiar", and offered everyone else food right after? How interesting...

🦁 When you stepped on his tail, and he makes the threat, honestly, you probably went into a fighting stance; or pulled out you trusty wok-

🦁 This makes Leona surprised, as it isn't everyday someone would actually respond like this to his threats.

🦁 It also makes Leona excited. This herbivore seems pretty confident. Must be pretty strong and brave too, since he saw that form they had when kicking the headmage.

🦁 But why a wok?? 🤨🤨

🦁 Anyway, before the fight could actually start, Ruggie comes in, and the plot ensues.

🦁 Later on, when he meets you in Savanclaw and challenges you guys to a game of Magift, he was half-expecting, half-not expecting you to actually be good at a game meant for people with magic??

🦁 You probably used some cooking appliance or something else (like a stick? idk-) to hit the disc around 🙄😒🤣

🦁 You also most likely had a hunch that the culprit was someone from Savanaclaw. Since no one from Savanaclaw was actually getting injured.

🦁 Honestly, why didn't Heartslabyul/the MC even think of that?

🦁 Anyway, we had no solid evidence anyway, so the plot goes on.

🦁 Overblot!Leona gets absolutely destroyed by you and your trusty wok.

🦁 You also somehow not seem so affected by the sandstorm going on?!

🦁 Anyway, after his overblot, and the Magift games, Cheka goes in the infirmary to check on Leona.

🦁 Also, Cheka absolutely LOVES you. You're nice, you're funny, and you were AMAZING during the game! And now he wants to learn how to play Magift with a wok 🤣🤣

🦁 Anyways, like with Riddle, you definitely sit him down and feed him lots of food while giving him a free therapy session some advice with lots of wise words.

🦁 Leona doesn't really listen much (he's too busy chowing down on that delicious food of yours), but takes some words to mind.

🦁 He also sometimes has you cook for him when Ruggie gets too busy.

🦁 Edit: The first time you saw Leona (and basically every beastman), you took one look at his ears and immediately wanted to touch and pet them. Like in this video, 0:12 timestamp. Leona as Japan.

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 He hears about how great your food is and immediately thinks of how he can take advantage of that.

🐙 Our little capitalist over here literally tries getting you into a contract with him so he can exploit your cooking skills.

🐙 And when he sees that you came to Monstro Lounge to talk about the anemones, he's overjoyed!

🐙 Other than Ramshackle being up for collateral, he also put "the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect's Services" or something similar.

🐙 Also, he definitely reminds you of America and Russia, which is strange because both of them don't really like each other; but you still see them in Azul.

🐙 Mostly because of Azul's shadiness and charisma, respectively. And capitalism (for Alfred/America-)

🐙 But you still signed the contract, because Grim told you to, like the little loveable sh*t he is.

🐙 Anyways, the plot goes on.

🐙 Like every other overblot that happens, you beat the overblot up with your amazing wok, and martial arts skills with the others.

🐙 Now, Azul does sort of look up to you, because you seem like this really britherly or fatherly person in the most chaotic way; lots of people like you. He also envies you because you weren't bullied at all, and you seemed like you had a great childhood.

🐙 But really... did you actually have a childhood? I'm pretty sure your history during your earlier years were full of war and violence. You might as well be traumatized or something. Plus, being a country personification isn't the best thing in the world, really.

🐙 Anyway, you sort of open up about this with Azul in the most subtle way possible. Without having to disclose that you're actually over 4000 years old and are a country personification back at your world.

🐙 After all the drama, you definitely still help Azul with Monstro Lounge, as long as he pays you, honestly (because that crow of a headmage doesn't).

🐙 Edit: You also make a China Town with Azul's help in NRC. You both share the income of Chinatown, and Azul will help advertise your Chinatown.

Scarabia:

Kalim Al-Asim

☀️ This baby wouldn't even treat you any differently to be honest.

☀️ He basically treats you the same way he would the main character.

☀️ Kalim would also ask you about the place you're from and its food, cultures, etc.

☀️ He loves your food!

☀️ Jamil be sighing in relief that he doesn't have to constantly cook for Kalim and that he has a helping hand in the kitchen.

☀️ Kalim would also LOVE to know more about your siblings; and would tell you about his too!

☀️ Just little wholesome things with him, to be honest

☀️ He would also teach you about modern technology cuz you are a boomer.

☀️ When Kalim was getting really sad, especially during Jamil's overblot, you tried to comfort him.

☀️ How you comforted him? Through food, and some wise words here and there.

☀️ You're an old country who has a lot to say about things, when given the chance.

☀️ And being around Kalim just allows you to simply release all your worries and just talk with him 😊

☀️ Sorry this is short, it's literally all so wholesome and sweet-

☀️ Edit: during the marching to the oasis things, you serve everyone food and water, and somehow build a cabin building. Jamil is stressed.

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit:

👑 This queen takes one look at you, and approves of your fashion style.

👑 At least you know what looks good on you and what doesn't.

👑 Hears that you designed a Ramshackle Dorm Uniform and thought it looked amazing!

👑 He also would definitely go up to you and ask you about your skin care and hair care routines.

👑 You probably teach him how to do the make up from back then; like, old-style make-up and how to make other cosmetic items that were made during old times.

👑 Also, MODEL/FASHION HANGOUTS!

👑 You guys also do a bit of gossip here and there and complain about other people to each other.

👑 During the Pomefiore arc, he sees you trying to teach everyone how to do some traditional Chinese dance, and sees how great you are at dancing!

👑 Has you help him teach the first years how to dance with elegance and grace.

👑 After his overblot, you don't exactly comfort Vil, because you don't know exactly what to say to him.

👑 But you keep him company as he recovers, and do your best to keep gim happy and content.

👑 With food, of course.

👑 However, Vil can't help but notice how you've been praising or acknowledging him and his efforts more; and also make sure he's taking care of himself properly.

👑 Vil is heartwarmed on how you do your best to comfort him.

Ignihyde:

Idia Shroud:

💀 He's seen, and heard of what you can do.

💀 And it makes him a bit nervous to actually approach you.

💀 He really doesn't approach you at all.

💀 But he's really scared of how good you are at martial arts.

💀 Just like that one SSR character from...

💀 He also thinks that your attitude is alright.

💀 Another reason why he wants to stay away from you is because of covid because you're one of those extroverts he wants nothing to do with.

💀 He reminds you of a much more reclused and socially awkward Japan/Kiku.

💀 I honestly don't know how to phrase this, because I don't know the full story of the Ignihyde arc; but you do try to get him to open up to you (and other people) more.

💀 I'll have to cut this short because I'm not very familiar with Idia as a character, and because I don't want to write something that might be contradictory towards the actual canon when the finale of Ignihyde actually releases.

Diasomnia:

Malleus Draconia:

🐲 You probably deeply respected Malleus, because he's a dragon.

🐲 Yknow, with China and his dragon in Hetalia? It only has like a few seconds or smthg of screen time; but it's pretty memorable for me.

🐲 Also, you have probably seen and fought scarier and worse people than Malleus.

🐲 Plus, Malleus is a bit of a sweetheart to MC sometimes. Even though he can be pretty terrifying, he has thise sweet moments.

🐲 Anyway, Malleus definitely compares you to Lilia.

🐲 And you guys also just talk to each other and ramble and listen to each other during your nightly walks.

🐲 You often visit Diasomnia to cook or give food for them, to save them from Lilia's abominations.

🐲 You guys would PROBABLY spar sometimes. No magic hand-to-hand combat. Sometimes combat with a stick, but Malleus wouldn't want to use magic to harm you.

🐲 Malleus can't help but feel this sort of ancient vibe/aura to you; like how he feels with Lilia.

🐲 Both of you are hopeless boomers too.

They find out you're a personification of a country:

Riddle: Excuse me WHAT?! 😐🤨😦😧😨😱 He'd be all, "No way... I fought, lashed out at... and disrespected a country personification?!?!" And would applogize to you so much. After he's absolutely sure you've forgiven him, he would LOVE to know your contry's history, traditions, and even laws/rules of the country!

Leona: 😐😑😐🤨 His intial reaction would be like, "Okay??" and then the realization sets in. He doesn't freak out, no. Well, he does internally. But it isn't much really. He does get a bit interested in some of the emperors/rulers your country has had before. Other than that, he doesn't make a big fuss about it. He does treat you with a tad more respect, though.

Azul: Ah, I see... wait WHAT?! 😄😀😐🤨😧😨😱 Poor baby is horrified at the thought that he tried to scam a country. After a while of calming him down and stopping him from running to his octopot to cry, he finally calmed down. He gets interested in your country's specialties. He's also curious of your history, traditions, culture, language, basically EVERYTHING. He'd also want to know more about other country personifications.

Kalim: He isn't so affected, honestly. He thinks it's really cool, though. 😮😯😲🤩🤩 He'd also ask you about EVERYTHING about your country and your world. Tell him some stories about funny things in the past too.

Vil: He doesn't have much a reaction. Is pretty calm while you tell him, and asks his questions calmly. He wants to know the fashion history of your country and possibly the world. And other things like history, and other stuff.

Idia: He's horrified 2.0. Apologizes A LOT to you for everything he's made you go through. He's also a bit curious about other country personifications, and the technology in your world too. Telling him some nice stories of your past might make him feel a bit better. But also, congratulations, you've just made Idia solemnly swear to himself never to make you angry or get on your bad side.

Malleus: Ah.. I suppose I shouldn't be calling you Child of Man anymore, yes? He's a bit interested and perplexed on the concept of country personifications. But after some questions and explaining, he accepts you anyway. He's most interested on your past emperors/rulers, as well as some of the battles you've fought in. He's also interested in the other country personifications.

END.

I hope that was alright hehe. If you'd like me to add or remove anything, or if you have any constructive criticism for me, feel free to tell me!

Also, this video, with France as Rook. I just see this happening 🤣🤣.

Edit: Also, you try selling medicine to someone, but I don't know who. Like in this video (Russia as someone else), and this video (Japan as someone else). And I just posted this right before I went to sleep, so sorry for any typos-

The edits were made on April 26, 2022. Might add some other things soon.

#twst #twisted wonderland #hetalia #aph china #hetalia china #hetalia reader #twisted wonderland x hetalia #twisted wonderland crossover #hetalia crossover #twst platonic

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navybrat817 · 3 years

Text

All Work and No Play

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: Andy Barber owns you, but you own him, too. Word Count: Over 900 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, office sex, possessive behavior, feels, Andy Barber (a big warning) A/N: Andy needs some love, so here we go with drabble #3! Enjoy, lovelies!

Written on my phone and not beta read, so any and all mistakes are absolutely my own!

I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here or archiveofourown under my same username, it has been reposted without my permission. 18+ Please!!! By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old. Enjoy, lovelies!

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this now after we sent you the final revision.”

Andy’s tone was professional as he spoke into the phone. The man on the other line never would have suspected that you were currently bent over Mr. Barber’s desk, your skirt raised and panties gone as he casually ran a finger up and down your slit. The motion was deliberate, as if he wanted to see how far he could push before you broke. But you didn’t break easily. He taught you better than that.

“You realize how long that will take to redraft?” he asked, pushing a finger into your sopping hole. “It’s not my time I’m worried about. It’s her time.”

You bit down on your bottom lip to keep from whining as he thrust his finger in and out of your tight channel, your legs starting to shake. You lost track of just how long he had you there, but the lull of the steady rhythm had you on edge. And that was just his finger.

“Don’t feed me your bullshit when we both know I’m better at it than you,” he snapped, nearly making you jump when he pulled his finger out and away. Some of your growing arousal trickled out as you heard him unbuckle his belt. Was he aching the way you were? “We’ll get it done. And you’ll apologize the next time you see her. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

You dared to raise your head and look over your shoulder, seeing his lips purse as he freed himself. He didn’t like people taking your time away from him, but you still reaped the benefits of his wrath. When he realized you were staring, he softly smiled. You’d do anything to keep that smile on his handsome face.

“Good,” he said, still gazing at you as he hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, honey. Where was I?”

“You were teasing me,” you pouted as he chuckled, turning your head to face forward when he stood up. “When you should be fucking me.”

“Is that right? Are you in charge, honey?” he asked softly, brushing his tip along your folds.

“Yes and no,” you answered, moving so your breasts were flush against the desk.

“Explain,” he said, the rich timbre of his voice making you shiver.

“At this moment, you’re in charge. And I love that… but you also need me. That anger and aggression you feel? My body takes it and molds it into something beautiful. So, in a way, I AM in charge. And doesn’t that make us equal?”

You didn’t have to look back to know the look on his face was one of pride. “You are my equal. You’re my everything.”

You barely managed to smother your cry when he slammed into you, feeling his hand soothingly rub your back to steady you. Tears filled your eyes, squeezing them shut. How was is possible that this Adonis was yours?

“I know, honey. You’re always so good for me.”

He slid out slowly, letting you feel the full drag of his cock, before he impaled you again. The strangled moan you let out wasn’t even a sound you knew you could make. It shouldn’t have surprised you. He instinctively gave you what you needed without having to ask. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

You buried your face in your arm to muffle your cries, hearing him growl as his hips met yours. He told you once it was bittersweet when you smothered your sounds because he loved hearing you fall apart. But you would invade his other senses. He would inhale your sweet scent as his fingers dug into you. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tasted the release he would inevitably see between your thighs. You were his favorite flavor, after all.

“You’re right, you know,” he grunted, leaning down so his chest was against your back. From that angle, you could feel just how much your cunt had to stretch to take him in. And each thrust brought you closer to that precipice. “You do own me. And I own you. That’s what you’re leaking around me. That’s why you love me.”

The muffled moan you let out told him he was right, your lips raising just enough so he could slam into that spot. You were begging with your body since you couldn’t form the words. You needed to fall to pieces. You were the puzzle that only he knew how to put together. “Show me you love me.”

You trembled uncontrollably as you let it consume you, his body firmly keeping you in place to feel everything. You were certain you screamed his name in the crook of your arm, like that would somehow extinguish the flames of passion. You barely registered that he was still thrusting, your thighs burning before you felt him stop. The feel of clamping on his cock as he coated you with his release was addicting. The heady rush, the need for more. You’d never get over the craving.

Soft kisses to the back of your neck made you hum in appreciation, taking a moment to relish in the feeling of him still inside you as his beard tickled your skin… Before his phone rang.

“Let me answer it this time,” you suggested breathlessly, canting your hips when he leaned up. “We’ll see how long it takes for them to hang up.”

#navybrat writes #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber imagine #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #andy barber x female reader

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

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ootahime · 3 years

Text

what is utahime’s role in the future? — a prediction (manga spoilers)

part 1 (unedited)

I WAS ABOUT TO POST IT BUT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT AND I WAS SO HURT FR!!!!! I HAD REWRITE THIS ENTIRE THING </33

part 2 is here!

in this post, i will be analyzing the information we’ve been given about utahime so far to form a prediction about her future role in the jujutsu kaisen series. if you’re as interested in utahime’s character as i am, please feel free to keep reading :3 (i’ll also be talking about her relationship with gojo a bit too)

soukatsu_ on twt!

kaikaikitan on twt!

utahime iori is a semi-grade 1 sorcerer working as a student supervisor/teacher at kyoto jujutsu high school. she loves drinking beer and going to karaoke. she’s also close friends with shoko and she’s not particularly fond of gojo most of the time. what else do we know about her?

hates sweets (funny she’s the complete opposite of gojo)

she’s great at singing and it’s a huge part of her technique

squabbling with gojo became a reflex :3

everyone absolutely adores utahime

loves watching soccer and baseball

a terrible drunk (worse than naobito zenin)

gojo is her main source of stress

let’s dive into her personality and abilities!

chapter 65

before i get into it, i think it’d be best if i were to explain the timeline because a lot of people seem to be confused about this one particular thing. utahime is born on february 18th, 1987. contrary to popular belief, she is not 3 years older than gojo. it is november 2018 in the story because gojo was sealed on halloween. if gojo was born on december 7th, 1989, that would mean that right now, he is only 28 years old. he has yet to turn 29.

the year is 2007. gojo satoru is a second year at tokyo jujutsu high school. the japanese school year begins in april which suggests that gojo is only 17 at the time (even if it’s not april, it doesn’t look like winter yet so it’s unlikely that he’s already 18). utahime is 20 because it is past february. she is a 2nd grade sorcerer at the age of 20. that’s not bad at all!

chapter 65 introduces young utahime and mei on a mission together within a cursed site. in real time, they’ve been gone for two days which is a cause of concern for gojo, shoko, and geto because the two haven’t contacted anyone since the beginning of their mission. the two begin to suspect something is wrong because the hallway markers they’ve set in place disappeared, and no matter how far they travel within the halls, the end is nowhere in sight. mei theorizes that the cursed spirit is overlapping the space as they travel forward. utahime agrees with this speculation and proposes a plan to escape the cursed spirit’s grasp by moving erratically. notice how she says that if one of them should escape, they can try to attack from the outside or call for help. if utahime was not capable of inflicting damage on anything then she would have told mei to escape and attack if she can while she waited to be rescued. however, she didn’t. she included herself in the sentence which leads me to believe that she is capable of going on the offense if needed.

keep in mind that at this point in time, mei is a grade 1 sorcerer. she is knowledgeable about all things involving jujutsu because she is experienced and skillful. we can see this aspect of her character illustrated when she theorizes that the cursed spirit is messing with the space they’re in. she chooses to go with utahime’s plan because she agrees that it’s the best action moving forward. this verifies that utahime is an intelligent girl that’s able to get along with pretty much anyone.

her intellect is demonstrated once again in chapter 79. she was able to deduce the possibility of there being more than one traitor and the fact that one is probably a higher up. she also narrowed down the mechamaru as the mole of kyoto not because he was acting suspicious but by process of elimination. she thought thoroughly of his technique and how easy it would be for him to manipulate devices small enough to be undetectable.

sure you can argue that she should already know all her students’ abilities and whatnot but you have to admit that it’s hard trying to sniff out the traitor when no one is acting suspicious. in addition to that, how did she know that there was a traitor in the top brass? i would have never guessed that tbh LOL (maybe bc im an idiot).

okay, now that we have established that she’s intelligent, let’s answer a more important question. is utahime weak?

chapter 33

if gojo calls utahime weak, does that mean there is some truth to it? well it is true that she is weaker than him because he’s the strongest and all. in my opinion, he’s just teasing her. he probably found that calling her weak is what really riles her up. maybe i’ll talk about why he loves teasing her so much in a later post. but anyway, gojo calls everybody and their mom weak. he even said jogo was weak and we know how powerful that guy is. gojo’s words alone do not indicate much about utahime’s power. in fact, i don’t even think he has seen her use her technique yet. he’s probably only ever heard of how it works. this is what i think their conversation about her technique was like:

gojo: hm? ur cursed technique is singing? can u show me?

utahime: what! no way!

gojo: why not?

*one of the classmates tells him that she can only use her CT once in a while because it consumes a lot of energy*

gojo: hahaha! u have to conserve cursed energy to use ur CT? why are u so weak, utahime?

utahime: i! am! your! senpai! respect! me!

what i’m trying to say is that gojo loves poking fun of people. we should not believe him when he calls someone weak because compared to him, everyone is weak.

this is a little off topic but let’s examine him telling her, “and you don’t have the nerves, utahime.” i think he’s trying to say that there’s no way she’ll ever do something like that because she’s not the type to put her students in danger. remember the soft expression and relieved smile on her lips when she said that she was glad the students were safe after the kyoto incident? gojo was directly in front of her so not only did he hear her say that, but he could have seen the look on her face too. even if he told her that she didn’t have the guts to betray the school to get on her nerves, he knew that utahime simply cared too much about the students so he ruled her out as a suspect right away. this is why he ultimately decided to confide in her and ask her to help him.

i’m a person who loves over-analyzing things. i really enjoy the dynamic between gojo and utahime. they’ve known each other for more than 11 years and although they always bicker, there is an unspoken feeling of trust between the two. gojo can do anything and everything by himself because he is truly the strongest person alive, but he still knows when to rely on others. him deciding to entrust utahime with such a job implies that he believes in utahime’s abilities.

chapter 52

she’s not using any cursed energy here--not to our knowledge at least. this is just pure skill. she was able to swiftly evade the swing from haruta. he was surprised himself considering the fact that he was right behind her. how do we know her CT isn’t speed? after haruta swung at her, we can see that some of her hair got cut off. if she was using her CT then speed should be her specialty. she should have been able to completely avoid the attack altogether but she didn’t. of course this isn’t a wow moment because jujutsu sorcerers should know how to dodge attacks, however, i’m just trying to get the point across that she’s not a defenseless person without her technique or others. let’s not forget that semi-grade 1 isn’t a weak rank either. you can’t simply be recommended to be a grade 1 sorcerer if you only can support others.

chapter 48

i want to bring up this panel. it suggests that utahime and takuma are sorcerers who have not experienced black flash and therefore, do not understand the essence of cursed energy as well as those who have like gojo and nanami. i find it strange how takuma and utahime were used to represent sorcerers who haven’t experienced it yet. is the purpose to demonstrate that there is a clear difference in skill between adult sorcerers like utahime and takuma compared to gojo and nanami? i could be nitpicking but the order of todo’s statement doesn’t line up with the sorcerers being shown. let me explain in depth. todo starts off by saying, “for those who have experienced black flash as compared to those who have not...” wouldn’t it make more sense to show gojo and nanami on the right side to represent sorcerers who have experienced black flash? that was mentioned first, after all. gojo and nanami should appear when todo says “for those who have experience black flash” while utahime and takuma should be shown right after to personify the second part, “as compared to those who have not.” i’m just making it more complicated than it actually is LOLOL i’m sure it really just means they haven’t experienced black flash yet, which is completely fine. i also find it fascinating how they used utahime to contrast gojo. with nanami and takuma it makes sense. nanami is someone takuma looks up to, he wants to gain nanami’s approval before he deems himself worthy of a promotion. what about utahime and gojo? what’s the purpose of comparing those two together when it’s obvious that gojo knows more about the essence of cursed energy more than anyone else? i might be delusional whoops

----

let me know what you guys think? this is only a part 1 so i haven’t gotten around to answering the question. i’m pretty much done with the second part, i just need to revise it a little. i think after i post part 2, i’ll try to interpret all the gojo and utahime moments in the manga >.<

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You’ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

#obey me #obey me hc #angel au #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me au #angels #obey me angels

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theartoflovingthomashunt · 2 years

Text

A Reminder

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer Masterlists] [Red Carpet Diaries]

Characters: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (OC) Book: Red Carpet Diaries; Book 3 Word Count/Rating: <500 ; Fluff Prompts: @choicesdecemberchallenge2021 : words

Synopsis: Thomas has a surprise for Alex to encourage her on the difficult days and remind her how strong she is.

Alex sighed, tossing her keys on the table. It had been another long day on set. Every time the film seemed to be moving forward, their progress was halted. It was as if the universe was fighting against them.

She dragged herself to her office, dropping off a stack of notes and script revisions she had to review before the morning set call. She massaged the bridge of her nose, trying to work up the energy to tackle the task tonight. As she opened her eyes to face what awaited her, she noticed a note atop a wrapped package.

My beloved Alex,

I know things have not been easy as of late. However, know I am proud of what you've accomplished. Art is created one painstaking brushstroke—or in our case, take—at a time. It is not simple, yet you have persevered and grown into a more talented woman than I ever could have imagined.

Good days will come again, as will more challenging ones. These hard days help you grow. They serve to show you the strength you already carry within you and remind you how very capable you are.

When you feel your strength wavering, I hope this can serve as a reminder of how far you've come and how far this life will take you. You are stronger than any challenge or obstacle that may come your way. You are more than you can imagine.

It is my privilege to share this life with you. May your dreams always carry you ever forward.

Faithfully yours,

Thomas

Carefully, Alex removed the twine and simple brown wrapping on the package that accompanied the letter. A Post-It on the picture frame she unwrapped caught her attention.

PS—You can thank your mother for entrusting me with these. She always believed in you, as I do, also.

Her fingers slid across the cool glass of a picture frame, tracing the imperfect lines of her childhood drawing of Ninradell. Surrounding the drawing were other doodles and illustrations Alex had done as a child, an image of the original book cover, and a note of encouragement from the book's author, Marianne D'Arneaux.

The image began to blur as her eyes swelled with tears.

If only she could tell that ten-year-old girl all the joy her future would bring. She had no idea then the future that awaited her.

She sniffled back her tears, taking a deep breath. No matter what challenges the production brought, she knew she could face them. That little girl who drew this and played pretend, bringing this story to life, was counting on her. She didn't know then what she could be, but now, she would overcome every obstacle to make her childhood dream a reality.

Her fingers meandered across her cheeks, collecting the fallen tears as she reread Thomas's words, holding them close to her heart. Come what may, she would carry on, for she knew she was stronger than the challenges that awaited her.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I know Thomas is no longer a popular character and few people still read him so if you got this far, I can't even express how much that means to me. Thomas and Alex mean the world to me so your support is everything.

Likes and reblogs appreciated 💖

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt x mc #thomas hunt x oc #thomas hunt rcd #thomas orson hunt #red carpet diaries #playchoices #choices #fan fiction #alex spencer #alex hunt #halex #thomas x alex #rcd3

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esmealux · 3 years

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Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

#writing #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fluff #smut #established deckerstar #lucifer is god #post 5b #post s5 #two part drabble game

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