#But they trusted in his actions instead of his words and I'm Normal about that

[memorydragon]

Yup, still on my gay coproganda bs.

One of the more interesting things about Jiang Ting's character is how much he doesn't actually want to be a character. His defense mechanism is to turn the question around. We first see this when Yan Xie confronts him the first time about being 'Captain Jiang'. He asks Jiang Ting what he has to say about all of the things he'd uncovered about Jiang Ting's past, and Jiang Ting's response is "What do you want 'Captain Jiang' to say? Tell me and I'll say it."

And he does this so often. He could lie, he could tell a half-truth, instead he asks what the other person wants to hear. What they want him to be.

And guess what? I'm totally normal about that. XD

The earliest memory we have of him is as a child, cleaning his father's body and being grateful that he wasn't beaten today. He's too young to understand that his father overdosed (we get no information about his mother) and is already dead. He's too young to realize that the majority of the people in his small village are either addicts or dealers, that it's a miracle he was born without HIV. When he's sent to the orphanage, he's isolated and bullied, internalized that he's unclean and unlovable when he looks in the mirror. When Yan Xie gets angry at the corruption in the orphanage Bu Wei grew up in, he just replies that 'It's like that, in places like these.'

When Ma Xiang confronts him, asking him who he is really. Is he the mole that got Yan Xie shot and nearly killed, lying on an operating room table while they waited for news? Jiang Ting says it himself, he's the most suspicious out of all of them, because even swept under the rug, the rest of the division Knows something is off about their 'Consultant Lu'. Jiang Ting doesn't define himself. He says "I'm who your Yan-ge thinks I am."

Yan Xie listens to the half-truths he's spun about himself after he dragged Jiang Ting out of the river, and Jiang Ting tells him: The safest thing for you is to hand me over to the police. I can't make myself believe you, because I have nothing now. I can't respond to this feeling, because I don't want to lie to you. Whether you hand me in or not is up to you.

He even does this to Wen Shao, when his loyality is probed. "What do you want me to say?" Except Wen Shao thinks he understands Jiang Ting the best, that only Jiang Ting understands him. Jiang Ting tells the truth then, that the one who understood his reasons wasn't him. Yan Xie was the one who correctly guessed the motives.

Because Jiang Ting has never been wanted as himself. He was the child of drug addicts, tossed into a orphanage where the corruption was rampant and money went into the adult's hands more often than not. When he finally found a friend, someone who liked him and didn't chase him away, his first thought is of saving his friend. Wen Shao has money and a family who loves him, so it's okay if he dies as long as Wen Shao lives. When his friend betrays him, saves himself first, Jiang Ting is happy.

Except his first friend, the person who says now everything I have is yours and you will be my only brother, the one person who likes someone like Jiang Ting, is the son of a drug lord. He forces the kidnappers who hurt them to take heroin, then turns to Jiang Ting and asks if he's happy now.

The child who watched his father overdose and has finally learned to understand what drugs are, is forced to watch more people die the same way by the one person who was supposed to love him.

He's happy. He's very happy. (The lie is so weak - he's ten years old and he's never had to hide himself like this before, despite everything. He's only just realizing that his first lie was already made, because he can't be loyal to Wen Shao, not like this. But he lies, because what else can he do? )

Wu Tun adopted him to keep his son, Wen Shao, in check. He's a pawn, put into a good school and groomed to be a policeman with padded pockets who will let the drug cartel off. He hates - hates - that he has no choice in this, he just has to become the pawn Wu Tun wants.

Wen Shao returns and he's brought new, even worse drugs with him. He wants his Red Queen on his side, gives Jiang Ting an apartment to rest in, to take care of things that would be 'inconvienent' otherwise, and Jiang Ting hates and hates even more.

So he plans to kill the King of Spades, then take out the Ace of Clubs. It can't erase what he is, but maybe he can move forward. All the over time, the stress, the loneliness will be worth it. (I'm so very very Normal about how he can't just agree to hanging out with his coworkers, how he over thinks and decides half way to take the agreement back and say 'let's talk about it tomorrow'. Because he wants to go, for the first time in his life he wants to do something as simple as going out with coworkers - possibly friends.)

Except he's been sold out. His plan falls through. His team dies and he'll never be able to talk about it tomorrow, and when he runs into the fire, all that's left for him is three years of being comatose and the King of Spades going free.

When he meets Yan Xie, he hides. He wants to be what Yan Xie wants him to be, but he can't. He's still tied as the Queen of Hearts, haunted by the sins he's committed and the people who died. He comments that Yan Xie is blind falling for someone like him, calling him beautiful all the time. That this crush that he'd never allowed himself to pursue has come back into his life and wants to be picked by him.

The Red Queen's heart that was so full of hate now has something else. But even if Yan Xie was blind now, would he still love Jiang Ting when he saw the truth?

He hides and he hides and lies, and when the cards are drawn, he finally tells the truth, finds something to define himself by. "I love you, Yan Xie."

Yan Xie's faith in him is already broken. It has to be broken further. The best lie is the one that is the truth that no one believes.

[irisintheafterglow]

it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow)

summary: satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.

wc: 1.2k

cw/tags: gojo x reader, arguing, miscommunication, angst/comfort, established relationship, lowercase because this was originally going to be a short answer to a request but ended up being 1k+ words (oops)

note: welcome back gojo nation, today i offer angst that started as a fluffy co-parenting megumi prompt and turned into...this. based on the jealousy prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting !! hope you enjoy :D

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

"you think i'm jealous? jealousy is not in my vocabulary, babe."

"mhmm, sure. you're not jealous and the sky isn't blue," you fire back without hesitation. what started as a petty argument was beginning to boil your blood a little too hot for comfort, and you couldn't pinpoint why. thoughts poked around in your mind of your boyfriend's arrogance, the need to be the best, and simultaneous fear that you were going to leave him. but, in true satoru fashion, he chose to be an enigma instead of communicating.

"i'm literally the strongest being in existence," he argues and you catch your eye twitch in the rearview mirror. "what would i have to be jealous about?" a part of you wanted to just slam on the brakes to see if he'd go flying forward but decided against it because of the other occupants in the car. as much as they tried to act like they weren't listening, the two kids in the back weren't very good at hiding their snickers of amusement. "like, really. i'm super hot, i'm super strong, i've got the voice of an angel-"

"i'm just saying, satoru. your behavior back there was...weird. i didn't like it," you mutter.

"and i didn't like how that guy was looking at you like you were some kind of dessert in a pastry shop," he counters. "i just...it's fine. you don't get it." your stomach churns unexpectedly at his tone and there's a sharp pain in your heart that you don't anticipate. you know he didn't mean it, but the sternness of his voice was sounding more hostile the longer you talked with him. it made your face hot, not in that butterflies and daydreams kind of way that he normally made you feel. this feeling was foreign and intense, a sensation that made you want to curl up and hide. it was the same feeling as when you were about to exorcise a curse.

when you were about to fight.

"what's that supposed to mean?" the atmosphere of the car changes in an instant and you can feel the effect your five words have on every occupant of the vehicle. megumi and tsumiki's gazes dart upward, eyeing you nervously while a robotic stiffness shoots through satoru's body. "what do i not get?"

"it's nothing," he grits through his teeth, but you're too angry to back down.

"it's not nothing, so spill it," you say and his jaw clenches. "why are you so jealous of some dude at the grocery store?"

"i said i wasn't jealous."

"your actions are saying otherwise." you start relying more on your instinct to drive you back towards jujutsu tech because your brain was starting to shut down.

"what, you don't believe me? why don't you just trust me?" he's on the verge of shouting at you. he never shouts at you. it terrifies you and it makes the two kids in the second row shift uneasily in their car seats. you don't know what else to say; your mind was preoccupied with not crashing the car and trying not to cry from the stifling pressure in the car.

"i-i don't like you right now," you force out. it's the wrong thing to say and you can sense satoru snap before he does.

"please, be my guest. go with your little cashier if you like him so much better," he spits and your body moves before you can register what it's doing. one minute, you're driving down the street toward the school; the next, you're turning into the nearest mini-mall parking lot, putting the car in park, and slamming the driver's side door behind you. you don't know where else to go, but all you know is that you can't stay in that car with satoru when he's like that. he'd never do anything to hurt megs or tsumiki, but being on the road in such a compromised mental state wasn't safe for any of you. so, you start walking.

the sun was nearly down and you knew it would be faster if you just sucked it up and drove the rest of the way, but something about this petty little fight was bringing up memories you didn't want to rehash. after you make it past the first stoplight, the telltale hum of your car's engine pulls up next to you, coming to a stop while you continue in the direction of the school. punching the hazards button, he jumps from the driver's seat onto the sidewalk to call after you, but you shake your head.

"babe. babe, please get back in the car," he pleads and you keep walking. "i'm sorry. please, come back in the car. i'll drive us the rest of the way and we can talk."

"it's fine," you state firmly without looking at him, "i'll walk back."

"i made a mistake. please, please come back in the car." he gently grabs your wrist to stop you and you shoot him a brutal glare from the corner of your eye, seeing him deflate in real-time. "please." smaller footsteps approach from behind him, and your senses snap back into place when you see that megumi and tsumiki followed satoru out of the car.

"he was stupid," tsumiki says and her brother nods in agreement, "really stupid."

"and if you're walking back to school, we're walking with you," megumi declares and the sentiment is enough to finally get you back in the passenger seat, staring out the window for the few agonizing minutes remaining of the drive. once you've turned on the tv and stuck a frozen dinner in the oven for the two children, you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face of its still-burning sensation. you've just finished drying your face in front of the mirror when he trudges in like a kicked puppy. you feel him before you see him, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face disappearing into your neck.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. "i'm so sorry for what i said and what i did and how i made you feel. you were right; i was jealous. just...seeing you live out such a mundane scene as buying groceries reminded me that you could have anyone you wanted." you turn to face him with a puzzled look.

"what do you mean, anyone i wanted?"

"you could be with anyone you wanted," he says quietly. "anyone but me."

"oh," is all you can choke out before you pull him as close as humanly possible, holding him so tightly that he'd be a fool to think you would ever want anyone else.

"you could have any life you wanted," his voice breaks against your skin. "not one where our best friends die before they reach 20 or disappear off the face of the planet. you don't need to have this one. you don't need to stay with me."

"has it ever occurred to you, satoru," you murmur, "that maybe i want to stay with you? forever and after that?"

"why would you do that to yourself?"

"loving you is not a burden, gojo satoru. i would find you in any lifetime and i would love you in every single one," you vow and your chest aches when he sniffles softly.

"i don't deserve you. i really don't."

"maybe you do, maybe you don't, but that's not up to me to decide. so, it doesn't matter because i'm staying."

"you'll stay?"

"forever and after that."

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[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[tsxkkis]

# tsukishima kei ‐ better for you

a/n: a request for anon that definitely took me too long to write T-T i'm terribly sorry for the delay .... also this strangely reminds me of my first ever fic on this account (which was also abt tsukki) so it's kinda silly :33

summary: tsukishima is jealous and not exactly good at hiding it.

warnings: none, pure fluff

tsukishima has been awfully quiet since you arrived at the training camp.

it's not like that was an unusual behavior from him - he was naturally a quiet, introverted person, so anyone with a basic knowledge about his personality would assume it's perfectly normal. but you knew better.

he was your boyfriend, after all. even if quiet and rather reserved, he would continuously taunt you with his snarky comments and witty remarks, almost twice as much as he would his teammates. but for the last two days or so, his demeanor changed; there was something that ticked him off, and, contrary to his beliefs, he was not good at hiding his jealousy.

figuring out the reason behind it was a no-brainer.

tsukishima adjusted his glasses as he observed yet another guy walking up to you, and he could already recite the way this conversation was about to go from memory. he stood next to yamaguchi, back resting on the outer wall of the gym, eyes staring daggers into the fukurodani jersey of the boy trying to hit on you. but of course, he didn't do a thing about it, instead opting for a low, annoyed huff.

you could see him from where you stood, and a sigh left your lips as you saw his eyes dart away from yours the moment they met, the blonde boy wasting no time in walking away to a spot where he wouldn't have to see the situation in front of him.

the boy in front of you, whose name you've found out to be komi, fukurodani's libero, kept on babbling about something, but you've stopped listening a while ago, quickly excusing yourself to follow after your boyfriend.

'wait.' you said, voice just loud enough for tsukishima to stop in his tracks, head turning around to face you, waiting for you to continue what you wanted to say. you caught up with him, eyes squinting a little as you looked up because of the sun positioned right behind his head. 'are you really jealous of all these guys?'

'no.' he rolled his eyes, a classic sign of frustration from him, almost as if he intentionally tried to show you that despite his words, he is indeed annoyed with them.

'i can clearly see that you are.' he didn't answer you this time, silence taking over as he avoided eye contact with you, acting more childish than ever. you couldn't help but smile, hand reaching out for his with a gentle squeeze. 'you know that they could never steal me from you, right?'

silence.

'oh, come on, you're sulking like a five year old baby right now.'

'says the one who acts like a baby all the goddamn time.' his remark made you crack a smile, happy that you got him to talk. 'it's annoying. and it's not like i don't trust you either. it's something different.'

'hm?'

he let go of your hand, taking a few steps forward, the setting sun hitting his face as he stared into the magine in front of him; the hill he had to run up and down at least five times that day, barely noticeable roofs of homes situated not far away.

'don't you think that at least one of them could be, you know.' you already knew what point he was trying to make, and yet hearing it from him made your heart break a little. 'better for you?'

a moment of silence passed, the chirping birds being heard from away.

'no.'

he could hear the sound of your shoes hitting the ground with each step you took towards him, your arms gently wrapping around his torso from behind, face nuzzling into his back.

'look at me, tsukki.' hearing your words, he slowly turned his head around, only to be met with your lips already on his in a sweet, short kiss. 'listen carefully, alright?'

'i'm.' kiss. 'not.' kiss. 'going.' kiss. 'anywhere.'

he couldn't help but smile at your actions, breaking out of his aloof persona for a split second, hand searching for yours to hold it tenderly.

'besides,' you added, lips curving up into a sly smile. 'none of them could give me the same level of sarcasm that i love so much.'

you continued smooching his lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, trying to cover his entire face with kisses.

'alright, alright.' he mumbled quietly, pulling you away as he adjusted his hair. 'don't be so touchy here, though. not that i don't like it, it's just-'

'i knew it!' you recognized the voice behind you immediately, and tsukishima's shocked face only confirmed your suspicions.

'let's leave the lovebirds before kei kills us with his death stare, bokuto.' another familiar voice was heard, and as you turned around, you immediately noticed the spikey black hair and kuroo's tall frame.

as they ran away, shouting a familiar rhyme of 'y/n and tsukki sitting on a tree', you couldn't help but laugh, resting your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. he didn't look half as content as you, lips in a straight line as if he just got caught doing something so utterly embarrassing he would never recover from it.

'if they continue this, everyone will know.' he mumbled, back to his usual, annoyed tone.

'look at the positives, kei.' you nudged him on the shoulder, smiling up at him. 'at least now no one will flirt with me anymore. no more frustrations for you.'

and maybe you were right.

or maybe you weren't, as he found out later, when the information of your relationship got to the ears of his overly excited upperclassmen.

taglist: @moonswolfie @wyrcan @kitsune-kita @haechansbbg @luvvrgirll @serotoninbarbz @sugaraddict301

[sillygoofyqueer]

sorry i send you so many asks i might as well go live in your inbox BUT pangolin!shen yuan is SO CUTE (panyuan? shen yuangolin?), i know he LOVES climbing on wei qingwei's broad shoulders and traveling to the peaks, listening to wei qingwei talk endlessly about all the peak lords and cultivators and their swords.

as a pangolin he has no job or anything so he'd wander off to watch liu qingge train, standing there with his little paws held together in that adorable pangolin way. maybe some bai zhan kids try to kick him and liu qingge immediately punts them to the other side of the field bc everyone knows that if you mess with the pangolins, you mess with wan jian peak, and you really don't want that. or shen yuan goes to qian cao peak to watch mu qingfang work his medicine magics. an ding peak is definitely the best place for treats, esp shang qinghua who just plops a whole bag of nuts and seeds in front of him when he visits.

also he'd hide behind wei qingwei's legs, little claws clinging to his robes like a tiny scaly child whenever shen qingqiu comes by for disciple swords, because that man is intimidating and everyone is so freaking tall when you're only 80 cm long.

shen yuan has also 100% bitten people.

You've actually fallen for my trap that I set out purely to lure you into my inbox and now you're trapped here forever and ever and we WILL be having tea parties every week. Sorry. You're my friend now, that's basically what I'm like with my friends. I've just realised that I'm basically atticwifing you....but platonically. ANYWAY. Shen Yuan absorbs so much information from Wei Qingwei's rambles, even squeaking and offering little sounds to ensure that the peak lord knows that he is listening! While the rest of the sect have gotten used to this little limpet hanging onto WQW, visitors are like "is one of your peak lords actually insane" and the peak lords are like "nah just watch this" and they listen as SY seemingly RESPONDS to something WQW has said with a questioning sort of hum. Shocked Pikachu faces all around. Also, I love to think about a couple of the more spiteful, spoiled disciples of one of the peaks ganging up on poor pangolin SY because they think they're above the consequences of their actions. SY stumbles his way back to Wan Jian Peak, where he is met by WQW. The man is. Very gentle. as he treats the pangolin's wounds. Then he turns his attention to finding who has done this to his precious little pet, and all of the peak lords are reminded of just how scary WQW can be when he has a valid reason to be. The man is horrifying, normally warm and friendly smile wiped completely off his face - instead, there's a scowl. A petrifying scowl that looks out of place on his face. Let's just say that the disciples are very quickly found and...dealt with. Also!! I read the last little paragraph and just...immediately thought of a different kind of panyuan - a little demon type creature that WQW likely took in as a baby because...listen, so what if it's a demon, the shimei on the beast peak said that it's okay because "pangolin-type demons are harmless, trust me bro". This little pangolin baby has a human form, meaning WQW basically has a little baby that is sometimes a pangolin. In human form, he has his little tail and spatterings of scales over his body, and he is just a little GUY. He's just as charming as a little child, peeking out from behind WQW's robes and clinging to him, often just resorting to communicating through his little chirps and squeaks when he gets scared or far too shy for words. He is still taken to literally all of the peak lord meetings, because he's just a little guy, and god forbid anyone finds SY NOT sitting on WQW's shoulders or cuddled in his embrace. Everyone else is, at first, kind of hesitant because bro that's a child get him OUT of our meetings. Then they're hit with the big ole eyes and they fucking crumble.

[youuuimeanmee]

I saw a comment where it says Ranma is goading Akane here, to distract her from letting go of his hands.

And I have some thoughts about it.

Tbh I don't think he's goading her here. He's just stupidly honest, because you can find some truths in his word.

Akane IS slow –slower than himself, at least. Ranma has seen this in their first spar.

It's a part of what makes her cute, but in a life-or-death situation (with the spin, the height, and the speed they're in) where a split second matters, he's worried she won't be able to react quick enough to make a safe landing.

He also knows how selfless she is, how she hates to be a burden, and how she'd help her friends in any way she can.

He's seen this when she helped him & accepted to be her friends' spare. That's one thing he likes/dislikes about her. He likes how caring she is, but he dislikes how she can be so reckless in the process.

In the battle against Ryoga, Akane was too focused on wanting to help him, she ignored the flying bandana that can slice her at any moment. When Akane accepted her friends' request to be their stand-in, he's worried she accepted it so quick without even asking, what sort of person Kodachi is –who's able to beat up girls to that extent. Again, Ranma knew how straightforward Akane's fighting style is, from their first spar. She's fair and honorable, and he loves that about her, but would she be able to handle Kodachi, whom he's seen won't even hesitate to torture helpless ordinary girls?

Anyway, back to the topic. Ranma can be brutally honest, he came off like a jerk, even though that is not his intention. The most stark example (and could be an (un)intentional parallel) is when he chosed Nabiki to save, instead of Akane.

They fell from the 2nd floor balcony, but it was just a normal fall; no crazy shenanigan, no immediate danger there. In condition like that, Ranma trusts Akane she'd be able to land safely (and she did! kinda). Meanwhile, Nabiki has 0 martial art experience, she doesn't know how to land safely. That's why he chosed to save Nabiki. Too bad he lacks the tack to say it in nicer way. He failed to convey how much he trust Akane's ability, he even insulted her unknowingly, so he came off as a dismissive, uncaring jerk.

Wanting to help a person is one thing, but endangering yourself in the process is another. For Ranma, having a good sentiment is not enough. It's also important to have a holistic understanding of your surrounding to calculate the best action to get optimal result. As much as the truth hurts, that's one of Akane's flaw; when she's panicked, blinded by her desire to help people, she can be near-sighted in the situation she's facing.

An example; Akane was too quick to jump off to save Ranma, forgetting the fact that she can't even swim. That was hella reckless of her. Ranma decided that the best action to finally end the battle quickly was to use his Cat-Fist, by using Shampoo. He was really mean when he say the harsh truth, though. Akane was able to read his mind, only after she snapped out of her emotion and see things objectively.

(tbh Ranma can be really impulsive he'd ignore his surroundings too; at times like that, Akane will be the one who keep him in check, and that's what makes their dynamic so good, but that's another story for later.)

On related topic, let's also talk about how MAPPA changes Ranma and Akane's fall.

In the manga, Ranma was focusing on the wall as their trajectory; that's why his split-second decision was to pull Akane away from the wall and let himself take the hit. He (or Rumiko) was forgetting the fact that with the speed they're in, the hard ice can also hurt Akane when they fall. MAPPA took Ranma's calculating ability a bit further. Not only did he pull Akane away from the wall, he also shielded her with his entire body to protect her from the hard ice rink.

What I'm trying to say, the way Ranma shielded Akane here is not purely out of instinct (of his love for Akane). Because, if it's pure instinct, he would be confused how his body moved that way; but he's not. He's fully aware of what he's doing. He knew the consequences, and he's willing to take it. He even demanded Akane to at least thank his effort, lol.

TLDR; Ranma said he can't leave a slowspoke like her alone to fend for herself, not just because he wants to goad her, but also because it's his honest feelings. Ranma loves Akane, he'd never let her be endangered, but he's also a calculative guy in the battle who can come off as a jerk with his brutally honest opinion. It also doesn't help that he's a teen boy who never learn how to be considerate when choosing his words, due to his upbringing with Genma. (Tbf, in an urgent matter, he's not in a position to be able to choose his words carefully either). He'd only let Akane help him & handle dangerous thing, ONLY after he calculates how much she's objectively able to handle the burden. In a world with whacky power scaling, that's one of the thing Ranma would do to protect Akane.

(just realized, my words kinda portray him as this cold insenstive guy, but isn't that part of why he's so prone to misunderstandings that makes akane wants to hit him? lol. that's also part of his learning process throughout the manga; to be a better person for akane.)

[scoobydoodean]

Your thoughts on Amy are really interesting to me because when I was watching I'll admit I saw it as another tragic scenario that's often presented in the show. Like, she found a way to live her life with her son that wouldn't have her kill people (being a mortician) but when her son was sick she turned to desperate measures to save him. It's a sort of situation we see time and time again on the show. I'll admit I didn't quite pick up on the classist rhetoric going on in the episode and while I'm not entirely sure that was intentional by the writers it's definitely had me looking at this plot point in a new light. Dean killing Amy and its consequences has always been a really interesting narrative beat because while I ultimately don't fully agree with Dean's decision there, I totally see why he did it and understand his reasonings for it. Idk how many other fans feel the Amy conflict and the arc it has the brothers go through but I do think that at least at it's core it was an interesting one to explore even if it's execution of it left something to be desired for me

Sorry to ramble in your ask box but I seriously love your metas even when I don't always agree with your opinions 💜

If you don't mind a little rambling as well: I don't know that I'd say we see this same situation time and again. We have "Monsters Who Manage". For example, Lenore and her nest (2.03, 6.19). Benny. Garth and Bess. Sometimes those "monsters" feed again despite their best efforts (ex: Lenore in 6.19).

Amy isn't like any of them though. Sam seems to want to present Amy as an addict who relapsed (like Lenore), but that isn't what happened. She didn't feed on the brains of the people she killed. That was never her goal. She just had an opportunity to do something immoral to save her kid and she did it. In the end, her being a kitsune has almost nothing to do with her actions. A human parent could have done something very similar to save their own child. Imagine if your child needed a new heart and there was a long waiting list, so you went out and killed someone else and had their heart transplanted. That's more like what Amy did. Her kid got a food borne illness or infection. Normal human children get listeria and other dangerous food borne infections/illnesses. The only way in which Amy being a kitsune really impacts the situation is that it presented a unique solution to her child being sick that wouldn't be available to other parents (fresh pituitary glands). Her choosing to act on that opportunity just kind of shows that on some level, she does think of humans (at least "lower class" humans) as food.

At the same time, I do think Dean's actions go further than a moral difference with Sam. Dean is spiraling after the events of season 6. Cas lied and then died, and when it all went to shit, Death blamed Dean for everything and Dean crumpled under the weight of those expectations (we jump further into this in the following episode). It leaves Dean hyper-focused on not making a "mistake" again (for example, trusting someone he shouldn't have). At the same time, Dean's deeply depressed and suicidal (7.02), and his outlook on life and his own family is incredibly cynical when "The Girl Next Door" takes place. He says "the other shoe will drop" in regards to Sam because he doesn't have hope that anything could ever turn out right for their family. He repeats it in regards to Amy because people never change. Everyone is doomed to repeat their mistakes for all time (Dean's despair often looks like falling into the spiral of causality instead of remembering he can leap out of its flow). He also says "People are what they are", and I do think he's thinking about Cas at that point.

Amy mingled with humans and was a part of their world, but her actions showed she saw them as food on some level... and I think that Dean looks back at Cas and worries that he was a fool to ever think Cas was (for lack of a better word) human (or at least an ally to humanity who truly respected them as equals). In 6.22, Cas tells Dean they were never a family, and in 7.01, he follows that up by telling Dean he only ever saw him as a pet. He reinforced the traditional hierarchy where humans are lower creatures to monsters—food. And what has Dean been fighting all his life? Powerful creatures who believe their physical dominance gives them license exploit humans as food. When Dean tells Amy "people are who they are"... I do think he's thinking about Cas and the trust he had in that relationship that was deeply crushed. He's scared to trust anyone again because he trusted Cas so very much and now his world has been ripped apart. He doesn't trust Sam's judgement on Amy because he trusted Cas and that backfired spectacularly. He doesn't trust Amy not to do this again. Tbh I think he's right not to trust her because she has absolutely zero remorse of any kind at all whatsoever at any point. To me, that makes it quite apparent she'd be more than happy to do the same thing again if her kid was ever sick again. Hell—maybe even if she got sick. But it does go deeper than a moral clash for Dean. He's full of despair. At the same time, his actions also aren't as simple as dropping into the doom of "Monsters bad" because he doesn't kill Amy's son. Something Sam's never really grasped is that monsterhood has never been about physical characteristics to Dean. It's always been about actions. For Sam on the other hand, monsterhood has historically been more about physical characteristics (post here). I think this also plays a role in their feelings about Amy.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 2)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Y/N & Harry separately reflect on the event that brought them together and cope with the feelings it raised.

AN: It's a bit of a shorter chapter than I originally planned, guess I'm still getting back in the swing of writing after a very crazy week. This chapter is very introspective I would say. Less action than I normally include, but I thought all this was important to set up future chapters, if that makes sense.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1

CW: Mentions of a previous attempted assault

Word Count: 3.2k

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On Sunday morning you wake up in a cold sweat. You certainly hadn’t had a peaceful night of sleep. You’d been plagued with nightmares of the alpha and what he had done.

It’s early, the sun is just starting to rise, but you give up on sleep. You know that if you close your eyes, you’re just going to keep seeing that man and the paralyzing fear will come back. Distractions are the way to go.

As always, you make yourself a cup of tea to start the day. But it doesn’t sooth you the way it normally does. In fact, you’re feeling even more anxious. You’re confused why a scent you now associate with Sarah, one of the nicest alphas you’ve ever met, is causing such a negative reaction in your body.

You start to run through everything that happened the night before. It all comes back in vivid detail. Up until one point when it suddenly went dark, and your memories become fuzzy and confusing.

What the hell had even happened there? Because it wasn’t a drop. You had dropped twice before, and this was different. You’re completely unaware during a drop and have no memories after. Instead, you’re just left feeling dizzy, and so, so alone.

But this time wasn’t like that. It was hazy, sure, but you were still somewhat aware of your surroundings. You were aware that even after you practically lost consciousness, he still moved closer to your neck and tried to forcibly scent you. You remember falling, knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch yourself. But someone was there to break your fall and help you sit.

That’s when you were surrounded by the tea scent. At the time you had no idea it belonged to such a kind and gentle person. You just knew there was still an alpha touching you, and you had no clue what their intentions might be. But then you became aware of the calming pheromones they were releasing. This immediately helped you relax and made you start to trust this unknown alpha.

You had picked up on the presence of another alpha nearby. One who was releasing a bitter, angry scent before quickly switching to a calming one as well. Now you know that it was Harry, though his scent at the time was nothing like the wonderful one that permeated his dressing room.

The next memories are quite embarrassing to remember. You’re happy that Rachel had taught you about Harry’s band before the show. Because at least you could identify that the man who’s lap you were in was his guitarist, Mitch.

And then you think about how wonderful they all were. How they took care of you and made sure you were okay. Especially Harry.

You still can’t figure out what that was about. He was so protective, so worried. That alone had your omega trying to stake claim on the man. Never before had someone cared that much about you and your wellbeing. And then his scent. God, it was amazing. You’re eternally grateful you didn’t see him again after the show. You know you would have said or done something stupid. His smell would probably be more prominent after a show, sweat washing off the extra scent blockers he obviously wore in public.

Your mind starts to wander thinking about how delicious his scent probably is when it’s direct and unmasked. It’s a good thing your phone dings, pulling you back to the present before your thoughts can turn into inappropriate territory.

It’s Jada, sending you the videos she took the night before and informing you that Harry will set aside up to 6 tickets for whichever day you choose. You thank her for the videos and let her know you’ll get back to her after talking to your friends.

You’re not ready yet to talk about what happened at the show, so you hold off texting your friends for the moment. You know you’ll need to explain what happened, since you don’t want to lie about why you’re getting these tickets, but it can wait a few days.

Getting back to your distractions you spend the day deep cleaning your apartment and running errands. Anything to keep your mind busy.

You send the videos to Rachel and make plans for her to come over for lunch Saturday. You’ll tell her the truth about the concert then. Violet reaches out in the group chat, checking that you and Ameila will still be coming over for your usual Friday night hangout that week. That somehow leads to a discussion about favorite types of soup and by the time you’re all done debating broccoli cheddar versus tomato basil, it’s time for bed.

You’re exhausted from the sleepless night prior and you hope that you’re so tired you won’t have any dreams. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen. Of course not. No, you once again have nightmares of the alpha. Unlike the night before, when it had just been repeats of what happened, now it was what could have happened. All the worst-case scenarios.

Monday morning rolls around, and you might actually be more tired than you were before bed. You go to make your cup of tea and see hot chocolate mix on the shelf. For a moment you hesitate and then grab the container, making a mug of cocoa. It’s a bit of an odd choice, since it has zero caffeine and it’s August, but it feels like the right thing to do.

The smell of the chocolate immediately settles you, and you feel more at ease than you have in days. You have a theory why, but you try not to think too deeply about it as you continue your morning routine.

You sit at your desk to begin working for the day. You normally love that you have a completely remote job as a data analyst. But it’s a rough morning for you. You’re restless, completely unable to sit still, like there’s ants crawling under your skin.

Nothing gets done, so when it hits 1PM and you still haven’t crossed a single thing off your to-do list you decide to leave the apartment to get lunch. You pack up your laptop, thinking maybe your afternoon will be more productive with a change of scenery.

You grab a sandwich from the local deli and walk to the nearby park. You sit at a table next to some rose bushes. Their fragrance is strong, and it settles you. You sit for hours, completing all the work you wanted to accomplish that day.

It’s obvious why the roses helped you feel better. For the same reason the chocolate smell calmed you that morning. You’re embarrassed that Harry’s scent, even just reminders of it, has such an effect on you, but you lean into it.

There’s a boutique by the park that you know sells candles and other scented things, so you go in with one goal in mind. After smelling way more candles than is probably socially acceptable you find one that you think will work. It’s woodsy, and just a little floral. It’s missing the chocolate component, but you figure it’s as close to Harry’s scent as you’ll get. It also comes as a reed diffuser and a room spray, so you purchase all three.

That night before bed you set up the diffuser and have another cup of hot chocolate. You finally sleep peacefully through the night and wake up refreshed.

You follow this routine all week, switching your normal tea to hot chocolate, working outside by the rose bushes, and ensuring your home smells like Harry.

On Friday night you head over to Violet’s house.  The night starts off as usual, take out and a movie that you barely watch as you catch up and talk about your weeks.

“So, how was the concert?” Amelia asks.

For a second you nearly lie. Almost say, oh it was great and show the videos Jada took for you. But they’re your best friends, the people you can tell anything. You take a deep breath and say, “He definitely puts on a good show. But unfortunately, I didn’t really see it.”

“What do you mean?” Violet asks.

“There was this alpha in the audience,” you begin, and your friends immediately tense up, knowing where the story is likely to go.

“I noticed him the second I got there and moved to blend in with the crowd. I thought I had lost him, but I went with some girls to the bathroom and apparently he’d followed me and waited outside. When I walked out of the bathroom he used his alpha voice and made me follow him to a secluded area.”

“What a bastard!” Amelia interjects and Violet nods her head in agreement.

They see the tears welling in your eyes and move closer, each wrapping an arm around you before you continue.

“Once he got me alone he used his alpha voice again. I couldn’t move or say anything. He tried to scent me, and honestly was probably going to do a lot worse things. But I went into a half-drop or something.” You pause, taking a deep breath and they hold you even tighter to comfort you.

After calming down again you say, “And then things got weird.”

“I’m sorry, they weren’t weird already?” Amelia asks.

“Honestly, no. They were awful, but as an omega, not unexpected. What was weird, was waking up literally sitting in Mitch Rowlands lap with Sarah Jones and Harry Styles watching me from across the hall.”

“Harry Styles?” Violet says incredulously.

“Yes,” you reply.

“The Harry Styles?” Ameila adds.

“Yes, guys. The real Harry Styles.”

“Why was he there? Wouldn’t security be taking care of the situation? Not the performer?”

You realize Amelia makes a good point. Why did Harry and his band members respond to this incident? Wouldn’t it make more sense that they stay far away from potentially dangerous situations?

After thinking for a moment, you say, “He and Sarah are alphas. They probably sensed something was wrong and came to help. I wasn’t able to say anything, but I was able to send out some distress signals, so I guess they responded to that.”

“And this all happened before the show?” Violet asks.

“It was while the opener was on. And then they took me to Harry’s dressing room to talk to a police officer and have a medic check that I was ok. I was planning to go back to the crowd once they finished but Harry wouldn’t let me.”

“Wouldn’t let you? Sounds like another controlling alpha,” Violet says.

“No, no, that was bad wording. I mean, yea, he didn’t want me going back to the crowd again but not in a controlling way. He wanted to protect me. He said his alpha was still worried about me and he wouldn’t be able to perform if he didn’t know that I was safe.”

“Wow, that’s kind of intense,” Amelia says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Mostly. I think.”

They both give you a look and you explain, “I mean, it sucked, obviously. I hate that alphas have that kind of control over me. And I keep thinking about how much worse it could have been. But nothing too bad ended up happening. Plus, I got to meet Harry Styles so that’s a win.”

“What was he really like?” Violet questions.

“Well, he’s just as kind as everyone says. Most of the time he gave me space since he’s also an alpha, but at one point he held my hand for like, a second, and it felt like it’d been burned. I literally couldn’t believe his skin had touched mine. And the way his alpha was still on edge even when the danger was gone, I still don’t know how to explain that. Plus, his scent, God-” you cut yourself off before you can embarrass yourself about your obsession.

“Oh no, you can’t stop there!” Amelia says. “What is it like?”

For some reason you want to keep the specifics to yourself, so you reply, “I dunno, but it has this warmth to it, and like, a fresh outdoorsy smell. Anyway, uhm, I watched the concert on a TV in his dressing room. He’s giving me some tickets for any of the other New York shows, and I want you two and Rachel to come so we need to pick a date.”

You guys start to look at your calendars and write down a few of the shows that will work.

“When I see Rachel tomorrow I’ll see if any of these days work for her too,” you say once you have a short list.

“Does she know what happened?” Violet asks.

“Not yet. She doesn’t even know I’m an omega. I’m going to tell her everything tomorrow.”

“Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yea, I mean I trust her. She’s a good friend. She’s just a newer friend and it takes me awhile to open up about my, you know, status.”

“If you need us, for anything at all, you call or text and we’re there okay?”

You nod and smile, knowing that you have the two best friends in the world and that everything will be alright. You guys finish the night with some ice cream, and if your friends are curious about you picking chocolate when strawberry has always been your favorite, they don’t comment on it.

Lunch with Rachel the next day is a little more nerve wracking, but by the end you feel so much better. You explain everything about yourself and what happened at the concert the week before. She’s more knowledgeable about omegas than you expected, and she explains her favorite cousin is an omega.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I encouraged you to go alone. I know how dangerous outings like that are. Seriously I think a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders when my cousin officially bonded her alpha and had protection from him.”

“Rach, I’m a big girl, I chose to go alone. I thought my suppressants and scent blockers would have hidden my secret, but sometime alphas can still literally sniff us out.”

“Do you think the medicines are losing their effectiveness? Like you’ve built an immunity cause you’ve been on them so long?”

“They’re supposed to last a decade before that happens, I’ve only been on these eight years.”

“Probably couldn’t hurt to check though, right?”

You agree with her and make a mental note to at least put a call out to your doctor soon.

“And no concerts alone, got it?” You smile at her protectiveness and nod in agreement.

“Definitely not alone, but I am being given tickets for us to go to another show since I basically missed the first one.”

“Seriously? When?”

“I invited Violet and Amelia, and we have some dates that work for us. Can you do any of them too?”

You settle on September 10th and you text Jada later that day to let her know. She responds almost immediately which surprises you because you assume they’re getting ready for his show that night.

After talking to all your friends you’re feeling much better than you have all week. Plus, knowing you get to see Harry’s show soon has you excited. You don’t think you’ll get to see him again, but maybe just being in the same room will be enough to settle your omega.  And hopefully it can show your omega how truly unattainable the alpha is, and you can stop obsessing over him.

***

Harry’s pacing in his dressing room. It’s Saturday, night five of his NYC residency, and exactly one week since he met Y/N. And it’s been one week since he’s seen Y/N. And his alpha is restless.

“Harry, I’m sure she’s fine,” Mitch says firmly, ever the voice of reason.

“Then why hasn’t she texted Jada back? It’s been days!”

“She probably just hasn’t been able to coordinate with her friends yet,” Sarah says as she tries to soothe him.

Harry sits on the couch and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know why I’m like this right now. Why I’m so worried about her.”

“Well, it’s probably because she’s an omega. And you are a good alpha. Your instinct is to take care of her. And she nearly got hurt. Here. At your show. And I’m thinking you feel like you are at least partially responsible, which is dumb, because you’re not. But you’re a good person, and you care deeply, which makes you maybe a bit emotional about things like this?”

Harry takes in Sarah’s words. She’s right. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he feels guilty. He’s devastated that this happened at his show, a place that he always thought was safe for his fans.

“What if it’s more than that?” Harry asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” Mitch questions.

“What if she’s not just an omega?”

Sarah and Mitch expect him to continue, so when he just sits there silently they share a confused look.

“Care to explain?” Mitch says, encouraging him to open up to them.

“I feel like maybe she’s special. I mean, my alpha has definitely taken a liking to her. I was ready to rip that other alphas throat out when I saw his hands on her. And the only way I was able to do the concert was because I knew she was basically locked away from everyone else with security outside the door. I had to know she was safe. And I hate not knowing if she’s okay now. Plus, there was a moment.”

“A moment?” Sarah presses.

 “Yea I uhm, we were alone in the room right before the show. And I held her hand. Just to like, reassure her I guess. It was only a second, but I swear to God there were sparks. I’ve never felt anything like it, especially not from just holding hands.”

“Do you feel connected to her, or is your alpha connected to her omega?” Sarah asks to clarify.

“I honestly don’t know. Normally I can separate the two, but the situation brought my alpha out more than usual.”

Before anyone can ask more questions there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Harry calls out and Jada enters the room.

“Hey Harry. Y/N just texted, she and three friends are planning to come to the show on September 10th if that still works.”

“Yes, of course! Please send her four VIP tickets. In a box or somewhere sectioned off if possible. And passes to come backstage before the show, okay?”

“Got it, I’ll send her everything they’ll need.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Jada.”

She smiles, waving to Mitch and Sarah as she walks out of the room.

“Well, there you go,” Sarah says. “She is obviously fine if she’s texting and making plans. And you’ll see her again on the 10th!”

“If your alpha can last three weeks,” Mitch says teasingly.

“Shut up,” Harry drawls out, smiling at his best friend.

Mitch may think it’s a joke, but Harry truly doesn’t know if he can go three more weeks without seeing Y/N. Maybe three weeks will be enough to calm down his alpha, and shake this obsession he has with the lovely omega.

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AN: Thanks again for reading this story! Chapter 3 is already in the works, and I am very excited for the Harry & Y/N reunion.

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305 @creativelyeva @daphnesutton @selluequestrian @lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely @eversincehs1

[dmitriene]

— whispers of solace.

summary: in trying to relax, you see something that you should not, and as a result it turns into more. content: simon ghost riley x gn! reader tags: fluff, hurt and immediately comfort, angry ghost, maybe slightly flirt. author's note: was thinking about simon a lot and tiktok didn't help me much so please enjoy this short work!) enjoy your reading) 🖤

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ «i'm drowning in the night»  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌   ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌«when i'm like this, you're the one i trust»

As Ghost leaned against the base's cold, dimly lit hallway, his usual stoic demeanor was shattered, his hands shaking slightly, indicative of confusion in his normally controlled mind, memories of his past, life before the task force haunted him relentlessly, the gravity of his actions, the loss of his family and the darkness he had embraced scratched his mind.

Unbeknownst to Ghost, you, a member of the same task force, went outside the base to rest, the faint glow of your cigarette lit up the night as you exhaled a cloud of smoke, lost in your own thoughts, you noticed a figure on the periphery slumped against the wall, it took you a moment to understand that it was the Ghost, your Lieutenant and a man known for his aloofness and cold appearance.

You watched as he punched the wall, a gesture of frustration and pain, his mask obscured most of his face, but his body language was enough to convey his vulnerability, it was a side of him that no one had seen before, so after a moment's hesitation, you approached carefully.

— «Is everything all right, Ghost?» you asked quietly, genuine concern was evident in your voice.

He looked up at you, his bottomless brown eyes wary but tired as his lips parted as if about to say something, but there were no words.

— «Clean yourself up» he grumbled, trying to regain his usual composure

His tone was as scathing as always, a weak attempt to push you away, however, something in his eyes betrayed the facade he was trying to maintain, so you didn't move, stooding your ground, instead you took another step closer, your gaze didn't wavered.

— «You know, you don't have to go through it alone»

A joyless laugh escaped his lips, a bitter sound hanging in the air.

— «Don't pretend you know something about me»

You didn't flinch, your determination unwavering, your hand slowly reaching out, your fingers touching the fabric of his mask before gently cupping his cheek, the touch was hesitant, but your warmth seemed to seep through the barrier he had erected.

Ghost's body tensed under your touch as his head jerked slightly to the side, a mixture of surprise and vulnerability flooding through him as he tried to pull away, his pride struggling with his need for comfort.

— «I said.. I said go away»

— «I won't leave you in this state» your voice remained soft, unshakable.

His mask cracked and for a moment his hardened body trembled, the hand that was ready to push you away now hung in the air, not knowing where to run, as you continued to stroke his cheek, the tension in his muscles gradually subsided and his eyes closed by allowing himself to enjoy the simple comfort you offered.

— «You're not as bad as everyone says you are..» you whispered, your words barely audible over the night wind and background noise.

— «You are more than stories and rumors, you're human, and you're allowed to feel»

He let out a convulsive gasp, his shoulders slumped as if a weight had been lifted from him, his hand finally lowered, hovering hesitantly before touching your hand on his cheek.

For the first time in an eternity, Ghost allowed himself to be vulnerable, his mask intact, but the cracks widened to reveal the side of him he had suppressed for so long, his gaze meeting yours, brown eyes that were a mixture of pain, longing and a glimmer of hope.

— «You don't know what i was doing..» he confessed, his voice was a mere whisper

— «I may not know all the details, but i know enough, and i know that you are capable of change» you said calmly, smiling softly and stroking his cheekbone with your thumb.

You two stood in a dark hallway, a silent rapport arose between you, the Ghost's defenses crumbled and a bond formed in that vulnerability, your touch became an anchor that grounded him to a reality that was not solely defined by his past.

As the minutes dragged on, neither of you spoke, words seemed superfluous in the face of this suddenly found connection, and eventually the Ghost's eyes closed, weariness gripping his weary body as you continued to caress his cheek, your touch a source of comfort and reassurance.

In that moment, the Illusive Man allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as incorrigible as he once thought, and you, constantly present next to him, were a beacon of light leading him out of the darkness.

Over time, the silence between you and the Ghost became surprisingly comfortable, the tension that had held him captive for so long continued to dissipate with each gentle touch of your hand against his cheek, as if your touch had the power to unravel the tightly twisted threads of his emotions, allowing him to withstand the pain. that he buried deep inside.

In the midst of the silence, the Ghost's thoughts whirled, he remembered the faces of his family, their smiles, the warmth of their hugs and their shared joy, but these memories were intertwined with the darkness of his past deeds, the lives he had taken, the decisions that led him to the path he imagined could not.

— «You can't save me» he whispered, his voice a mixture of resignation and deep anguish.

— «Perhaps not all at once, but you don't have to face it alone, we're a team, remember?» your gaze remained fixed and unwavering.

A fleeting smile touched the corners of his lips, causing the mask to wrinkle slightly, allowing you to recognize his emotion, a small crack in the façade he had painstakingly built.

— «Stubborn, isn't you?»

You chuckled softly, the sound like a soothing melody in a quiet hallway — «Only when it matters»

The Ghost's eyes fluttered open, his gaze following the flutter of blond lashes to meet yours with a newfound sense of vulnerability — «It's been a long time since anyone cared to try»

— «Well, get used to it, because i'm not going anywhere» you answered with pure determination in your voice.

He was silent for a moment, his mask of indifference slipped even more — «Why?»

Your hand slipped from his cheek to his chest, just above where his heart was beating under tactical gear.

— «Because there is more to you than the stern appearance that you show to the world, i see the pain, the struggle, and the potential for something better, Ghost»

A soft sigh escaped his lips, a mixture of relief and apprehension — «What if i can't change, if i can't do it?»

— «Then we will face it together» you stated firmly before continuing — «But I believe in you, Ghost»

His eyes never left yours, and for the first time the distance he always kept seemed to disappear, the corridor, the base, the whole world disappeared, only you two and the fragile bond that formed, the Ghost’s hand hesitantly raised, his gloved fingers touched your cheek in response.

— «Thank you» he whispered in a barely audible voice.

You leaned into his touch and your eyes closed for a moment before meeting him again in a soft whisper

— «Anytime»

With a sense of understanding, the two of you stood in the dimly lit corridor, finding solace in each other's presence, the Ghost's vulnerability drawing you closer, and in that moment, an unspoken promise of comfort, support, and acceptance hung in the air.

The outside world may have been full of chaos and danger, but within this corridor you found something of value — a connection that had the power to heal, correct, and bring Ghost out of the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

© dmitriene - my masterlist please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[pencilofawesomeness]

Guys I'm having such a bizarre moment. I didn't expect to win like this, or to have my personal headcanons be confirmed so directly, but I also feel simultaneously robbed because Akutami is reaching into my head /jk

We received so little about Sukuna, but those brief brief brieeef moments of existentialism really caught me and I've thought about him for so long because of it. He was a fantastically terrifying villain, but there was always that dissonance there, between some of his words and actions, that portrayed that aimless longing and hurt and what that meant as a characterization point, and I'm honestly so hyped we turn around and get this in 271:

(scanlation for this panel because I think it gets the sentiment across better)

Followed by

I'm—

Y'all I started my draft for my Sukuna Reincarnation AU months ago and I never expected canon to validate me. They leave it easier and more open-ended, of course, but I'm coming on the record to say I wasn't crazy for my stretch of a character exploration and also I called it.

I won't go into the specifics of my "study Sukuna like a cockroach" notes now I just wanted to come grab the mic and announce that I beat Akutami to it >:D /lh

I'm being a good noodle and not stretching myself thin by starting a new multichap now, but I've had With the Storm in the works since January, and in light of the end of JJK and this lovely little tidbit, I'm tossing a sneak-peak from Chapter 7 because why not:

But maybe it could be. Maybe, just maybe, Uraume could accept this proffered hand and continue to hope.

---

Yet… things were different now. Things changed. Uraume changed, Sukuna changed, and even though they were still themselves, there was a myriad of shifts that piled on their shoulders until something gave way. Maybe a subconscious part of Uraume had braced for that to be a crash, but instead, Sukuna had been nothing but accepting and open. It only made them more nervous about losing him, just as they feared losing Pops. Uraume was not used to wanting, or hoping, but there was a powerful need in their chest that childishly demanded that they should get to keep both their kinder father and this happier Sukuna close, even if that may not be possible.

They nodded, not trusting their words at the moment, and Sukuna relaxed slightly.

“Good. Though that reminds me… You never really answered my first question. What do you want to do? With this life, I mean.”

There was that want again. Uraume felt the pull at their lungs until it was unbearable. They knew what he was asking; the question didn’t hinge on his involvement anymore, just them. Sukuna said he wanted to live peacefully, so what, then, was Uraume’s answer?

As much as they felt like a coward saying this, maybe that was okay. Sukuna felt the same way, after all. “I like this life too…” Uraume answered, and it was very different saying those words aloud. “Pops isn’t a shaman at all, and he’s good company and a good father. If I wasn’t able to find you, or you were not of this world, then… I would stay as his family.”

“That’s good,” Sukuna agreed, lifting yet another anxious weight from their chest. “I get that. Nobody else in my family are shamans either—at least, not really—and they’re all good people. It’s a good life, and even though I would have never expected it… I don’t want to lose it.”

It was amazing how similar they were, then and now. Uraume…really shouldn’t have worried about a lack of understanding. Sukuna didn’t have to say it, but it was clear that their thoughts had wandered down a similar road yet again. Their families, full of normal people living normal lives, were an unexpected treasure; to willingly become a monster, to become a scourge upon the world for whatever reason, would forfeit that. More than that, having people to care about made the desire to spread destruction lessen, rather significantly. Maybe that hurt and rage and bitterness was still there, in between their ribs, but in the ones that were dead and buried—a part of them, but also not quite there anymore, like when a scar ceases to constantly itch and ache and becomes only a mark on functioning skin.

They didn’t have to be monsters anymore. There were calmer, kinder things available to want—available to receive, even.

“This is so weird,” Uraume blurted, staring at their small hands and thinking of the strange miracle their lives turned into.

Sukuna barked a quick laugh before it was muffled into something like a snicker. “I know, right?” He leaned back in a stretch, his face catching the sun and lighting him in something that wasn’t a fire, but equally bright. “It’s not bad though.”

It was weird, to be a child, to be without some far-off goal, to be loved and happy, in the sense that it was absurd and foreign and absolutely unexpected. It was a breath of fresh air after years and years of having frozen lungs. Weird, surprising, but unmistakably good after so long of believing that no such term, deceptively simple, could have ever been applicable.

“Not bad at all,” Uraume agreed, a bright and blooming thing in their chest as their life began to slot into a new place. Still open-ended and perhaps a little terrifying for it, but Pops accepted them, and Sukuna accepted them, so maybe they could truly accept themself now, and whatever that will look like.

[smytherines]

Hey, I saw that you were bored, and I am also bored, so have an ask! Your Owen headcanons are great, so I was wondering if you have any about Owen's interest in acting/theatre?

It's one of the things that's really interesting to me about his character, even though it only gets a brief mention in canon.

Sorry if you've answered something like this already!

Ooooooooo this is such a good ask

It's weird, because despite being a hardcore theatre kid myself (I spent ages 8-18 in a community theatre program doing 2 plays and a musical every year), I always tend to see Owen's interest in acting in relation to my autistic Owen headcanon, as allegorical instead of literal acting/theatre.

Although in my experience, masked autistic people make excellent actors because it's what we do all the time anyways- every social interaction is a performance. We finesse ways to deliver lines, body language, tone of voice. I have to physically stop myself from rocking or swaying. I say combinations of words I've memorized from TV, delivered in the style of whatever actor's delivery is most appealing to me. Before I was diagnosed I used to joke that I built my public personality around Lauren Graham's line deliveries in Gilmore Girls. (I also routinely quote that show in social interactions)

It's exhausting, but I can more or less be at a social event for a few hours and seem ~normal~ and then come home and fall apart. The only time I feel like I can really unmask is when I'm totally alone, and the more time I spend with others (even people I love and adore!) The more irritated I get, the more quickly I melt down, the less I'm able to keep up the "I'm totally normal" facade I've constructed.

Obviously I'm 1000% projecting onto this character, but that's kinda how I see Owen and how I write him. I mean he literally is masked for most of the show, the acting, the way he speaks and his body language changing based on who he's around and what he's doing, him putting on personas and playing characters, the specific way he speaks with his hands, the way he seems to fixate on certain interests and ideas and ideological positions, the way they emphasize his interest in details, just so much of that feels familiar to me.

I do think he probably would've enjoyed acting. It saved my life. I wouldn't have survived without learning how to be someone else, someone other people don't immediately reject. For a second I thought maybe he could've been involved in vaudeville as a teenager, like Cary Grant, but vaudeville was on its way out by the early 30s so that doesn't seem likely. He'd be too young for it.

But I imagine he really liked to read plays, even if he didn't necessarily have a way to act or to see theatre as a kid/young adult. I think in the chwm epilogue I wrote about him buying a used copy of Pygmalion (unless I deleted that in editing, I can't remember). I think he probably read a lot and listened to radio plays and listened to BBC News to perfect his respectable posh accent.

I've had a headcanon for awhile now that Curt and Owen used to have sneaky little late night movie dates, because they just both love movies so much. Curt loves the action and the fantasy, the heroics of 1950s cinema, probably westerns, war films, musicals. Owen likes noir, and sci-fi, and british kitchen sink social dramas (those might be a *bit* late for him but the precursors for that), and is fascinated with the mechanics of acting, picking things apart, like he almost sees it as research for their jobs.

That's mostly just because I love classic films from the 30s-60s and now any time I watch something that came out during their time period I find myself wondering how those characters would react to it.

To me, in my little headcanon, Owen Carvour meticulously built this image of the perfect dashing confident charming British spy. And eventually he meets Curt and he trusts Curt, he sees that they have these similar rough edges that they hide with arrogance and vanity, that they are both playing a role. Curt is the first person who more or less experiences the world the way Owen does- filtering out the unacceptable parts of themselves to get by.

Curt is the only person he ever feels safe even partially letting the act drop with. Not all the way, they could never be 100% vulnerable with each other like that. But enough that Owen feels... safe with Curt. Not just about their secret (although yes also that), but Curt is the only person Owen allows to see any vulnerability, any trace of who he really is. It's part of why what Curt does feels like such a betrayal, why Owen can't move past it. Because he had a relative safe harbor, one person on earth he trusted, and it nearly got him killed.

[candrawithwip]

I don't understand the discourse surrounding the idea that the Demon Bull Family + Macaque weren't made to face consequences for their actions when Wukong is constantly being treated like a villain... because... that's literally not true? like at all?

Macaque and DBK were actually villains; their whole relationship with MK up until the more recent episodes was antagonistic. It was normal for them to attack or hurt the main characters. The show doesn't need the main characters to shout "Macaque, attacking and tricking MK was kind of screwed up" because... he knows that?

The entire cast knows that?

The reason that the consequences of their past actions aren’t thrown in their face is because MK isn't the kind of person to hold a person's mistakes over their heads. He could have called them out on it, but does he really need to? I mean, attempting to punch someone in the face doesn't exactly scream "I'm fine with your actions." He was mad; furious even... but he chose to look past it in the end.

That's what sets MK apart.

It would be normal to turn up your nose at someone who treated you like the DBK/Macaque have treated MK. I feel like that's kind of the point? Neither of them earned their redemption - it was just something MK offered to them because he likes making friends more than he likes keeping enemies.

He's a "good kid" as Macaque put it.

He didn't owe them anything, but he still offered an olive branch.

The reason nobody else calls them out on it?

Well, MK is their friend; they trust him completely and will always have his back. If MK decides he's willing to move past what happened and offer someone a clean slate, then his friends will do the same. You best believe that Mei and Pigsy wouldn't hesitate to tear Macaque or DBK a new one if MK got hurt again, though. It's not about forgetting what happened, just looking past it and letting them choose how they want to proceed.

It's different for Wukong, though.

The reason why Mei was so mad at Wukong wasn't because he was somehow worse than Macaque or DBK. If it were anyone else, she wouldn't have been using her words; she would have gone straight to throwing punches. No. She was mad at him because he MK was upset. She knows MK is tough; someone will kick him in the stomach and he'll offer them a bowl of noodles. She knows that, because she knows her friend.

What really gets to MK though his self-doubt, his insecurities, the trust he has in the people closest to him. She was mad because she couldn't protect MK, but more-so because she relied on Wukong to do the same. DBK can't break MK. Macaque can't break MK. Make him sad or furious, sure... but break him? No. Wukong? Wukong could break him. If his lie had resulted in Mei's death there was zero percent chance that MK would have been alright.

It was obvious Wukong hadn’t intended to hurt him, but he almost did and she was kind of upset about it!

Is this making sense to anyone?

I mean... ???

I honestly feel like way too many people are mistaking MK's characterization as a kind and forgiving person who can turn enemies into friends as narrative approval, and Wukong’s characterization as someone who takes the idea of “protecting” his loved ones a little too far and ends up keeping them in the dark instead/the cast’s reactions to this as narrative disapproval.

I never felt as though the show was making the argument that SWK was a bad person. It just feels like he’s a hero who got used to handling all the world’s problems on his own and expects too much of himself because of it, relearning how to connect and share burdens with other people… and I’m pretty sure that’s what they were going for?

He was never perfect but even Macaque, who literally hated him, has started to reevaluate the way he sees Wukong and even almost went so far as defending him when they were in the scroll.

On the opposite end of things, Macaque and DBK are villains who are trying to be better people because MK saw and acknowledged that potential in them, and it made them want to do better.

Is that just me? am I crazy? hello?

[ryuzakemo128]

Behold A Pale Horse Part 2

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Female Reader/ you

Content Warnings: Kyle Garrick is a rich wealthy man, female reader is poor, Kyle calls female reader: “Love”, “Darling”, “dearest”, and “sweetheart” in a casual and affectionate way, female reader's mental illnesses, mention of past trauma, Kyle's protectiveness, fluffy romance, emotional support, slow burn, angst, drama, action, military themes, emotional turmoil. Mention of blackjack and poker.

Words: 5429

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Credit for Template of Dividers: @cafekitsune

Summary: “I have a fucken feelin she's gonna crawl back like a fucken leech.” you were talking about your mother. “If you think my father was bad. She is just as bad.”

You knew he would die sometime, you just thought he would be alive for a long time and the age of seventy felt too soon. Even though he lived a long time, that he lived for quite a while. Ghost looked at you as you paced around the room as you heard the news.

Your heart felt heavy as you remembered the times you had together, the jokes, the missions, the fear. You had felt safe with him, despite his flaws and his rough edges. He had been a beacon of light in your otherwise chaotic world.

“I have a fucken feelin she's gonna crawl back like a fucken leech.” you were talking about your mother. “If you think my father was bad. She is just as bad.”

Ghost was there when you broke your hand punching a wall when you were on the phone with your mother. He heard the words “Stupid bitch.” followed by a loud smack and your pained scream.

He came running and found you cradling your hand, tears in your eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.” you murmured into the phone before hanging up and collapsing onto the floor.

John Price must have heard you punch the wall, the concrete wall, the same wall he didn't think he needed to tell you not to punch because he thought you being a Colonel would know better. You could almost feel his disappointment in you as he walked into the room.

“Don't say it. I'm a fucken idiot. I know.” you muttered with your eyes firmly shut sitting on the floor.

John Price's footsteps were heavy as he approached you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. “It's alright, Colonel,” he said in a firm but gentle tone, crouching beside you. “But maybe next time, we can find a better outlet for your anger.”

“Trust me. I don't plan on fightin' more walls.” you snorted.

Ghost remained silent, his eyes full of understanding, and he knew exactly what you needed in moments like this.

He didn't ask questions or try to give you false comforts; instead, he sat beside you, his hand landing gently on your back.

The warmth of his touch radiated through your uniform, offering a small semblance of solace in the coldness of your grief.

“You did a bang-up job on that hand.” Price remarked looking at your hand.

You laughed humourlessly. “Thanks. I'll be sure to bill you for the hospital visit.”

Price sighed, his expression softening. “Look, I know this isn't the time, but we have a mission briefing in an hour. You should get that looked at and try to pull yourself together for it, yeah?”

“I am well aware of that briefing. I'll be fine by then. I have at least five different emails reminding me of it from five different people.”

Price nodded, looking at the both of you before he stood. “Take all the time you need. I'll get the medical team to check it out for you, Colonel.”

“Finger crossed its either sprained or bruised.” you replied.

Ghost nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on your back. You felt his gaze on you, knowing he was assessing how much of this was an act and how much was real.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him, your eyes a little red from unshed tears. “I need to get going. We can deal with this after the briefing, okay?”

The nurses rushed around like a bunch of hens with their heads cut off. Normally you would be one of them. But you punched the wall, cried and now you felt fine somehow?

You let out a sigh and stood up, flexing your hand. It hurt, but you weren't going to let that stop you.

You had a mission to focus on. You looked over at Ghost, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of worry and something else.

You couldn't quite place it, but you knew it was there.

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said, your voice a bit shakier than you would have liked. “I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Anything for you, darlin,” he said, his British accent wrapping around the words like a warm blanket.

You headed to the medical bay, Ghost following closely behind. The medics took one look at your hand and winced. “Looks like you've had quite the run-in with the wall,” one of them quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Picked a fight with the wall and lost at the same time.” you snorted.

The medic took your hand gently in his and began examining it, his brow furrowing with concentration. “Well, it's definitely not broken, but it's a bad sprain. We'll need to get you into a cast for a few weeks. It'll heal quicker that way.”

“So, I did good job hittin it?” you guessed.

Ghost chuckled lightly, his eyes still full of concern. “Could say that, Colonel.”

“Well. What I recommend you doing is, plenty of rest, no more punching walls, mirrors, or people for that matter.” the medic said, wrapping your hand in a cast.

“Damn. There goes my bare-knuckle boxing match this afternoon.” you remarked dryly.

Ghost's smile grew a bit wider at that. “Maybe stick to paperwork for a bit, yeah?”

“I don’t think I would be able to fight someone with only one hand just yet. I think it would the safest bet for now.” You forced a chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the room. The medic finished wrapping your hand in the cast, his hands deft and sure.

As he stepped back, you studied the stark white cast with a sigh. It was a stark reminder of your outburst, of your loss, of the tumultuous relationship you had with your mother. But you had a mission to focus on, a team that needed you.

“Alright, Colonel, let's get you to the briefing. We're already pushin' it close to time.” Ghost's voice brought you back to the present, his hand landing on your shoulder in a firm but comforting grip.

“Joys of a tight schedule. It's feckin tighter than a nun's puckered arsehole.” you muttered as you walked to the mission briefing.

Ghost couldn't help but laugh at that. “Never knew nuns had tight arseholes, Colonel.”

“Considering they've given themselves to God. I would like to assume they would. Otherwise, I might be wrong. Though I don't like to think of them in that way either.” you replied.

Ghost chuckled, shaking his head. “You always know how to lighten the mood, don't you?”

“As someone who has parents that were baptized catholic and should have been raised catholic. My sense of humour is still intact.” you answered.

The rest of the mission didn’t have another hitch. The factors of a head start of your leave were dosed in the promise of going to a military function.

You assured them you would attend repeatedly. As they would usually do. As you always manage to sound sarcastic even when you try to be genuine in tone.

You weren’t sure why they always managed to think of that first than to take you seriously. They weren’t used to your kind of humour.

Though you can’t say the same thing when it comes to Ghost. He picked it up fine.

But you never asked why that was. It wasn’t something you didn’t want to intrude on. As you thought, ‘Must be personal. I won’t go there.’

Ghost looked at you when you never asked personal questions, and for a moment, his gaze flickered with something unreadable. Then it was gone, replaced with the usual mischievous twinkle. “You're one of a kind, Colonel,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“Talk when you want to. I won't force something. I know the effects of forcing someone to do something you don't want to do. So, if you need to talk about that let me know and you'll be free to do so.” you added as you both walked into the briefing room, the weight of the cast on your hand a constant reminder of the fragility of your mental state. “Just don't pick fights with walls.”

A mission later, a military function later and now in the front of the mirror inside your mirror in your hotel room. You were now going to attend a funeral for your father.

The cast still on your hand and the bruises slowly fading. The cast now taken off when your doctor took a look at your sprained hand. Muttering a few things under his breath, but mostly about how lucky you were and how much more it could've been.

The bruises had faded into a light purple, but you knew they'd be there still.

You told your doctor that you were on the phone with your mother when it happened during your deployment. Adding in that it was when you found out your father had died on the phone, and she had a few colourful words for you.

He nodded solemnly, understanding your pain. “Take as much time as you need to heal,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience with soldiers like you.

As soon as you left the doctor’s appointment, Kyle decided to take you to lunch, “Are you sure you're fine with eating there?”

You nodded, “I've been craving that burger for weeks. Let's go for it.”

The diner was a local favourite, filled with the comforting aroma of grease and the buzz of chatter. You picked at your food, the weight of the impending funeral heavy on your mind.

Kyle noticed your distraction, his gaze lingering on you with concern. He reached across the table, his thumb brushing the back of your hand gently. “You okay, darling?”

“I am dreading it. I don't think I could speak to her without another this incident occurring.” you answered holding up your hand still bruised and lightly wrapped with a bandage.

Kyle nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving yours, “I'll be there with you every step of the way. If she tries anything, I'll handle it.”

“Fingers crossed she won't. She's already blaming me for his death, never mind the fact that his health was never that great to start with by the time I was in the picture.” you mumble into your food.

“I do have a feeling they'll have it in the early morning starting at an obnoxious starting time too. Think 5am start kind of thing. Horrendous stuff. Early morning birds the lot of them.”

Kyle was an early riser, so the mention of a 5 AM funeral didn't faze him. Though you were not. You preferred a 7am start at the earliest. He found out when he stayed over once, waking up to a grumbling mess because of his 5 AM wake-up call. But, for you, he’d be there at 4 AM if that's what it took. Something you loved more than any expensive meal he ever bought you.

The first time this happened, you were so happy you cried, he reacted so fast you didn't have a chance to even get a word in before he had you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. But now, it was just routine. You felt the tension in the air thicken as you both got ready for the funeral.

The white button up dress shirt, the black asymmetrical four pocketed vest and black slacks. Combined with the crimson red tie. Your face completely covered with a high-tech space grey coloured shaped skull mask.

Your white shirt rolled up to your elbows and wearing black leather gloves. The gold tree leaf collar pin on the shirt's neckline, which is a symbol of your rank of colonel. Your hair tied into a mermaid's braid.

Your dad's funeral was coming up, you had to be there, much to your own dismay and hope you would skip the funeral to go there after your family left the century.

You took a deep breath as you picked up your lucky belt, the one your dad had beaten you with and somehow kept you alive. Ironic how it was used on your flesh, but it saved your life multiple times.

This was the reality of it now, your father is dead, long dead, this was supposed to be a small funeral. But what quantified as ‘small’ didn’t exactly seem that with how many children your parents brought into the world.

Along with most of your nieces and nephews in tow with your older brothers. One time you were happy with being the only girl in the entirety of eight children they decided to have.

Now you had to become the ‘strong one’ inside of a capitalistic scummy world that valued money over moral ethics.

The lives moving the company engine along over the work life balance you deserved it was non-existent.

You were good at punching your problems away in the past. Yet it never reflected it now.

If your mother decided to show up after abandoning you and your siblings, you would be sure to leave long before she made the age-old excuse of ‘late-night work.’

When her affair took precedence over their livelihoods. You still remember telling her she was disowned and disbarred from everything your life entailed.

The thought of seeing her at the funeral sent a shiver down your spine. The same spine that your father had broken. But that’s the thing about family, they come with baggage.

The amount of baggage often changed with how much money they had. And your family had enough to start their own airline. The only flight they cared about was the one taking them away from their problems.

You felt the weight of the mask on your face, a stark reminder of the double life you led. The one where you were a daughter, sister, and now, a colonel in a world that didn’t care about your past.

It was the same world that had crushed your spirit into dust, only to build you back up into this unshakable force. The mask wasn’t just for the mission; it was for the facade you had to wear at the funeral.

The tense atmosphere inside of the funeral home, let alone the old cottage inside the isles of Yorkshire.

The company skyscraper in London, the cotton and wool farm in Yorkshire, the vacation home inside of Alaska, along with other various things your father never told you about.

Not that it mattered now.

The old man was indeed dead now.

Deceased.

Entering Rigor Mortis.

Sleeping forever.

Dead.

A bonfire, a pyre, a wooden stake, and everything they would burn a witch during the era of the witch trials. What better way to give a funeral for your father?

The flames crackling and popping in the dark of the night. The heat licking at your skin as you stood in front of everyone you had to pretend to care about.

Your heart was racing but not because of fear or nerves, it was because of the rage that burned inside of you like the very fire in front of you.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, the flames reflecting off your mask, turning your eyes into a fiery amber.

You were getting ready for your solo date with yourself after the funeral. You weren’t going to do much. Honestly. People assumed you were kinkier than you felt like you were.

What do you mean wearing a garter panty makes you kinky? You saw them on sale, and you bought them because you felt pretty.

Why do you think like that? It is just a spiked collar with a bell. I got it years ago.

Why do you like wearing fishnet stockings to the office? Because they're comfortable, that's why.

What do you mean you’re single? Aren’t you like thirty now? Yeah. But no one wants to date me. So? Who cares?

How are you going to find someone if you wear that shit? Well, that sounds like a you problem not a me problem to have. Good luck unpacking that bullshit.

When are you going to give me grandchildren? When you show up for your children and start being an actual mother.

Why do you always have to wear black? It's my favourite colour. Besides, it matches everything.

But it’s for the funeral. You're supposed to wear something more... respectful.

You would be more respectful. My father is better man dead than he was ever alive thank you very much.

Why haven’t you forgiven your mother? Well, she’s to blame for a lot of things happening to me and I will never forgive her for it.

It wasn’t your mother’s fault your father decided to take it out on you for her leaving you and your siblings with him. Why can’t you see how you’re hurting her? She made a choice to make more than one affair with her lovers. She knew what would happen. I don’t care what she wants anymore.

Why do you have so many piercings and tattoos? Because it’s my body, and I can do what I want with it.

Why are you so defensive? Because my entire life I’ve had to fight to be seen and heard. To prove that I’m more than just the daughter of a man who didn’t deserve the title of father.

Why can’t you concentrate? I have a condition that makes focusing on one thing at a time an endless struggle.

But you seem so together. How can you have a mental illness? Because mental illness doesn’t have a face, darling. It’s not something you can spot from a mile away. It’s the hidden battles we fight daily, behind the smiles and the nods.

ADHD is not a thing, my son isn’t like this. Why are you lying? Because it’s a part of who I am, and I’m not going to hide it anymore, Mom. You should have listened when your husband beat me into ‘listening’ to him.

If you didn't say anything about it your father would have loved you more, been around you more and wouldn’t have hurt you. If you behaved like we wanted. None of this would have happened. Are you sure that is the rabbit hole you want to walk down?

You’ve had enough. You turn around and walk out of the room, not bothering to hear the rest of her guilt trips.

You don't need to be around that kind of negativity today, not when you’re trying to breathe without feeling like you’re choking on your own tears.

The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the quiet house. It’s a relief to be alone, even if it’s just for a moment. You lean against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

You've heard it all before, but somehow, it still stings. You’ve spent years building up a tough exterior, but the words of your mother still manage to find their way in, digging at the tender spots you've tried so hard to protect.

But today is not the day to let her win. You have a date with yourself, and you're going to enjoy it. You straighten up, smoothing down your black dress.

It’s not what everyone else expects you to wear, but it’s what you feel like wearing, and that’s all that matters. You look at the time, realizing you're already running late. The theatre won't wait for you, even if you wish the world would.

“It was stupid to think she would admit it was also partially her fault.” You muttered to your co-worker at the bar.

You had just told him about your mother’s accusations and his eyes widened, his hand froze mid-air with a bottle of whiskey. “Your father’s funeral, right? That’s why you called in sick for work?”

“Yeah. I don’t know whether it was the right thing now. I should have worked today instead of attending.” You answered.

“Your mother is a complete and total bitch. You know that, right?” He said, his voice gruff but concerned. He had seen you at your worst, and he knew the history between you two.

“Yeah. Oddly enough she only got worse after he died.” you were sipping your white Russian cocktail.

He nodded, placing the bottle back on the shelf. “Well, she can't ruin your day anymore. What's your plan now, love?”

“See a movie, have dinner and take frozen yoghurt home to devour completely.” you answered.

“A perfect plan, if I say so myself.” he winked and slid the drink to you.

“Good food is something I will always look forward to.” you chuckle with excitement. Looking forward to having a good meal for dinner tonight.

You didn’t know what it would be from the enormous amount of choices around you. But you knew. You knew there is going to be something you will enjoy.

Kyle walked into the theatre once you were in the seat you paid for. Along with nachos with extra cheese, two large diet cokes, and a box of chocolates.

He looked at the feast you bought for yourself to have with the movie. “It's not a date if you don't eat your weight in junk food.” You said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled and set the snacks down, sliding into the seat next to you. “How was it?” He asked, his voice gentle, and eyes concerned.

“Worse than a horror movie somehow. My mother is somehow far worse than a dead man now.” you answered.

Kyle’s expression tightened. He had heard enough about your mother to understand her cruel nature, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing you in pain.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You know you don’t have to take that shit, right? You’re more than what she says you are.” His voice was firm and comforting.

“I went to the bar hours before. I told Larry, Lawrence, this, he agrees that she's a stone-cold bitch. This is also the same man who dates older women by the way.” you replied.

Kyle’s smile was small but knowing. “And yet he’s the voice of reason today?”

“Yeah. After a White Russian cocktail and two 'holy water' cocktails. He gave me a shot of cinnamon whiskey which he mixed with vodka and said it’s for the soul. I guess that’s one way to get over the shit of a family I have.” You said, a small laugh escaping your lips. It was a sad laugh, but it was something.

Kyle nodded, his grip around you tightening for a brief moment. “You’ve got me. That’s all that matters right now. Let’s enjoy the movie, okay?”

“The 'hole water' cocktails were quite nice by the way.” you replied.

He kissed the top of your head. “Good to know. I’ll have to try one next time I’m there.”

You were more than a little content with him there. Even if you never did things together, all the time, it was enough to know he was by your side. Your eating habits were weird to be sure, but you warned him many times before hand, and he never made you feel bad for it.

You were more than a little content with him there. Even if you never did things together, all the time, it was enough to know he was by your side. Your eating habits were weird to be sure, but you warned him many times before hand, and he never made you feel bad for it.

Your mac and cheese was the perfect temperature, just a hint of crunch on the top from the oven, and the nachos were heavenly with the warm, gooey cheese. You didn’t even realize how hungry you were until the food hit the table. You dug in with enthusiasm, the salty, cheesy flavours mingling with the sweetness of your chocolates. The comfort of the familiar tastes washed over you like a warm blanket, a stark contrast to the coldness of your mother’s words earlier.

The movie began, and you tried to lose yourself in the action-packed scenes, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with your mother. You could feel Kyle’s eyes on you, his concern palpable. He reached over and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. It was a simple gesture, but it meant the world to you. It reminded you that you weren’t alone, that there was someone who cared about you, who saw you for more than the sum of your past.

The film was a blockbuster hit, full of explosions and car chases that had your heart racing. You couldn’t help but think how surreal it was to be here with Kyle, a man who lived a life so different from your own. A man who, despite his wealth and status, saw the real you and didn’t flinch at your imperfections. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever.

As the movie progressed, you found yourself leaning into Kyle’s side, your shoulders brushing against his firm, muscular frame. His thumb traced small circles on the back of your hand, the touch grounding and soothing. You watched the screen, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the warmth and comfort of his presence.

As you slept in the hotel room with your earbuds in to block out the background noises of the city, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the ticking of the analog clock in the hotel room. You were asleep faster than you would have been after drinking a warm glass of milk doused in melatonin.

You would be back inside your cottage inside of Yorkshire soon. It may take a while. It will come to you soon. You think to yourself. A small temporary mantra to ease yourself into a heavy slumber. Easing yourself into a comfortable routine you know more about than London and its streets.

The routine was and remains to be quite boring to those who knew or didn’t know you. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered until you had at least eight to nine hours of sleep inside you. A golden rule you always had to maintain some assemblance of peace inside your soul. Not that you were ever religious about the ‘soul’ or ever argued what made a ‘soul’ a ‘soul.’

The satin eye mask you wore didn't just shield your eyes from light, it served as a symbolic barrier between you and the tumultuous world outside. The silk pillow cover over the body pillow you kept to your chest to help you sleep alone at night. A small comfort among the many you kept to yourself.

The satin pajamas you wore to bed were handmade by your late grandmother, a soft and warm embrace that brought a semblance of comfort to the cold, sterile hotel room. The warmth of the outdoor socks you used a bed socks to keep warm. Your mind began to drift as the darkness of the room wrapped around you like a cocoon.

As you slept deep inside the cocoon of heavy blankets.

Back deep inside the penthouse of London’s most expensive, luxurious buildings owned by Kyle's father. A building so high, it seemed like it could kiss the stars, if only it tried hard enough. Though if his father was in fact allowed to have it kiss the stars. It would be done with no questions asked, and no doubt with the finest gold-plated cranes money could buy.

Soap hadn't been introduced to you just yet, but his reputation preceded him. Kyle had mentioned him in passing, a fellow SAS operative with a sharp wit and a penchant for trouble. You'd seen his face in a few photos around Kyle's flat, a grinning man with piercing blue eyes and a mop of hair styled in a mohawk. Not too outrageous as the ones you had seen growing up.

“My older brother has one still. Though his has width of a small bird. Dyed it pink and it hasn't been any other colour since.” you told him.

Kyle chuckled at your words, his eyes not leaving yours. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “I bet he pulls it off better than anyone else.”

“Considering he pulls off a cocktail dress. I doubt there is something he couldn't.” You quipped back with a smirk, feeling his breath on your face. The conversation had been light, a welcome reprieve from the shadowy world Kyle was entangled in.

Now, as you were in the hotel room, Kyle talking to Soap in person, “Soap, I don’t know if Ghost has told you this. But I don’t think she needs a lesson in anything MacTavish.”

Soap’s smirk didn’t waver, didn’t budge, didn’t move from his face. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about her. But I’d like to see her skills for myself, Gaz. It’s not every day you get to spar with someone who’s seen more action than a Hollywood blockbuster.”

“Or you could settle for Blackjack and watch her take his money instead?” Ghost said his voice over the phone.

“Cheeky bugger,” Soap said, his smile evident in his voice. “But, I’m more interested in the action than the gambling. Besides, I can handle myself around a poker table.”

“Poker and Blackjack are different.” Ghost reminded him. “Blackjack is all about maths, and you know how good she is with numbers.”

The phone line crackled with Soap’s laughter. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave the gambling to her and the brains. But I’m still looking forward to seeing her in action, Gaz. It’ll be like watching a ballet of bullets and brawn.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to know you’re eager to watch her dance with danger, Soap. Just remember she’s not just any operative.”

“Understood, Gaz. I’ll play nice.” Soap’s tone was teasing, but there was a hint of respect beneath it.

You were known to play like a loan shark when it came to blackjack. Ruthless, precise, and cold. It was your way of coping with the world. The numbers never lied to you, never hurt you, and never disappointed you. It was a game that made sense to you in a world that rarely did. The thought of playing poker with Kyle's friend made your stomach twirl, but in a way that was more excitement than dread.

“You better. Otherwise, any poker game you play with her? You'll end up paying for it.” Ghost quipped, his voice a mix of humour and caution.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Ghost. Besides, I enjoy a challenge.” Soap's reply was filled with the kind of confidence that could only come from experience.

Kyle chuckled. “Keep that in mind when you finally meet her. She's not just a pretty face, she's got brains and brawn. You might learn a thing or two.”

The line went silent for a beat before Soap spoke up again. “Looking forward to it, Gaz. How's she holding up?”

Kyle’s eyes softened at the question. “As well as can be expected. She’s a tough one, that’s for sure. But she’s got a lot on her plate.”

“Family issues?” Ghost guessed.

Kyle nodded solemnly. “Something like that. She’s got a past she’s trying to outrun, and it’s catching up with her.”

“Yeesh. Price told her it would come knocking when she least expects it to.” Ghost’s voice was filled with a mix of sympathy and the bluntness you were used to. “Just keep her safe, Gaz. That’s all we can do for now.”

“And tell her to come to Glasgow for once. She’ll be more at ‘peace’ here than in London.” Soap remarked with a laugh.

“She’s from Yorkshire, Soap. She’s not exactly keen on Glasgow weather, unless you’ve got a sunbed with her name on it,” Kyle said, his eyes not leaving yours as he spoke into the phone, a gentle teasing glint in his eyes.

“Yorkshire’s weather is nice during summer. Absolutely freezing in Winter.” Ghost reminded Soap. As if he wanted to drill in the fact, you were happy living in Yorkshire and preferred to visit other places.

“Summer in Glasgow isn’t exactly a tropical paradise, but it’s still worth a visit. Besides, I’m sure we can manage to warm things up for her.” Soap’s voice grew slightly darker, a mischievous twinkle in his tone that made Kyle smirk.

“And I am certain you will most likely find yourself broke and upset long before the entire week would end.” Ghost and Kyle told him in unison reminding him you would take what he for what he is worth from his hide during either a match of blackjack or poker.

[clericofshadows]

a beginning

Description: In the aftermath of a one night stand with an older soldier named Nyx, Kaidan starts to fall for the man and his obvious mysteries...

Pairing: Kaidan Alenko/Nyx Shepard

Rating: M

Note: Felt inspired to finish this after making some gifs of Nyx and Kaidan.

Kaidan wasn’t quite sure what to think about the man lying in the bed a couple of feet away from the bathroom, watching him with those deep purple eyes that said a lot about him.  Gene modded, clearly, with a deep hue that contrasted his rough exterior.  He had to have been at least in his fifties, if not more, the skin marked by both war and natural aging.

But one thing’s for sure, Nyx knew how to charm a man, even one that wasn’t normally for one night stands.

“Doing okay in there?” he asked, making no move to cover himself up, turning towards him with a grin.

“Just thinking,” Kaidan replied, dampening a wash cloth with warm water, testing it with his hand before wringing it out. 

“Dangerous,” he teased, running his hand down his chest, toying with those pierced nipples–and what a fucking surprise that was.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

He was thinking about a lot, actually.  About how he thought he saw a flash of light blue rimmed around his eyes while he fucked deep into Nyx, pressing his weight into him, keeping a steady gaze on him, watching for any reaction that wasn't complete pleasure.  Biotics from a man far too old to be part of the first gen, much less any other stable gen.  Far too pure to be a trick of the light.  But maybe it was.

He didn’t ‘feel’ like a biotic, nor did he notice or feel a port in the back of his neck.  Could be underneath the skin like Kaidan’s, but there was no tell-tale scar either.  A mystery to be solved later.

Because not only did Kaidan find himself taking the man back to his damn apartment on Arcturus, they also negotiated something beyond just a quick fuck between two soldiers.  Nyx wanted to be used, and he said he saw a man he could trust at the bar. 

And Kaidan didn't want to disappoint. 

"Thinking about what we should order for takeout," he replied, walking back over to the bed.

"Bullshit," Nyx snorted, pulling his hair out of his undercut bun, already well-mussed after their fuck, the silver strands flowing down around his shoulders. "You fucked me within an inch of my life.  I think we've earned a little honesty?" A southern accent started to leech into his words. Something he hides? He's known some Alliance to hide their local accents and stick to a "galactic standard" but he didn't expect that from Nyx.

Kaidan started to gently run the washcloth around his thighs, careful to not be too rough, ignoring him for now.  Nyx took it from him with a roll of his eyes and cleaned himself up. "You're such a gentleman."

"You almost say it like an insult." Kaidan stretched himself back out on the bed. 

He chuckled, tossing the washcloth on the nightstand next to him. "No. Just an observation. Anyway, come on… whatever you are thinking about can't be too bad?"

"Why me?" Kaidan asked, because he was genuinely wondering.  Some had tried to approach Nyx, but he sent them all away, instead heading towards Kaidan.

Nyx smiled, seemingly happy with his response. Good. Maybe that will get him to back off for a moment. "I'm good at reading people.  And I got a good vibe from you.  Looked like you wanted something more, and you seemed like the kind of guy that cares about everyone.  You were talking to the bartender like an old friend, and yet I saw no recognition between the two of you when you walked in.  Thought I would test the waters, see where things go."

Kaidan knew the man was an N7, seeing it emblazoned on his jacket clear as day.  Hearing their observational skills in action was a bit unnerving, but perhaps it wasn't too bad hearing how highly Nyx rated him before he even talked to him. 

"Did I prove your observations correct?" Kaidan asked. 

"You did and more," he replied softly, full of sweet honey.  "How long are you on the station?"

Kaidan raised an eyebrow. "Depends.  You told me to be honest, so I will.  I'm not the kind of guy who's just here for benefits. This was great, but–"

"No, no, that wasn't why I was asking.  Not really.  Maybe not the best way to enter into something, but you never know..." he interrupted, trailing off with an expectant look. 

Kaidan couldn't deny that Nyx was attractive in a rough sort of way.  Scars framed the sides of his face that told a story, one that made Kaidan want to get to know the man more.  A grey beard that matched his hair, kept longer at the chin, but braided nearly in a small plait. Hell, there was something familiar about the man during their whole encounter, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. 

He probably should get his name. And contact info, too.

Kaidan did want something more these days.  Never really getting close to much of anyone during his service so far, his biotics almost setting him apart from most.  Too many seemed to treat him like an outsider, nothing overt but it was clear to him that he was different. 

Even more so after seeing him out on the field, unleashing his biotics amongst soldiers who have probably never seen them outside of vids and sims.  

Hell, Nyx wanted him to flare out, encouraging him and his biotics to let loose. Maybe it was just a kink for him, but something lingered behind his gaze.  

And it's been too damn long since Kaidan had someone he wanted something more with, had someone who saw his biotics and grinned. 

"A few months," he replied. "Working on some new potential training for new biotic recruits. Nothing concrete for now.  But word says I might be back in the black soon, so no promises."

"Then we have similar schedules.  There's a couple of little Ns that need to be taught how to use their damn omnitools properly," he chuckled. "And unfortunately I'm one of the few tech-inclined Ns who was free enough to do it."

"Not much of a teacher?" He asked, curious. 

Nyx nodded, motioning for Kaidan to come closer.  He shook his head but moved closer all the same, cuddling up against his chest.  Sure, why not.  He was warm and his embrace was nice.  "Yes and no.  To my fellow nerds?  Of course.  To the ones that think an overload and a sabotage are the same fucking thing?  I would rather be in the most backwater UNC in the galaxy.”

Kaidan made an exaggerated shudder.  “They do completely different things!”

“Exactly my point.  Say, what was your designation?” 

“Sentinel.”

“Ah, that’s what I figured.  My favorite specialty to work with, as your type tends to know a bit of everything,” he replied with a wink.  “As you demonstrated this evening.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “So, you said we have similar schedules.  Does that also mean you have a posting in the future?”

“I do,” he nodded, resting his chin on Kaidan’s head.  “A long-term mission, likely out in the black for a while with a command of my own on a frigate.  Still new and they haven’t fully put together the roster, but it’s something different.”

“Sounds interesting,” Kaidan said, biting back a yawn.  “I wouldn’t mind having something like that, too.  Smaller ship, smaller crew.”

“Maybe you will. Come on, let’s order that take out you were supposedly thinking of,” Nyx said, untangling himself from him.  Kaidan gave him a once over, the scarred, hairy chest and arms, the coarse trail that led to the man’s impressive cock.  Gleaming, gold rings on his nipples, hidden underneath his fatigues.  Scars lined his body, faint and hidden and long since healed, silvery in the light.  Black whispy ink on his arms that reminded him of magic, of biotics even and a styled design on his neck–a phoenix.  A play on his name, perhaps?  A call sign?  Or did he just think it was pretty?

Nyx was an enigma, and Kaidan wanted more.

He smirked at the attention and reached down to grab his uniform.  

“You know, we are fairly close to the same size… you can borrow something of mine,” Kaidan suggested, motioning to the set of drawers against the wall.  

Nyx nodded.  “Thanks.  Have a place I can throw these in for a quick refresh?”

“Just down the hall.  I’m lucky, I get all the accommodations in my room.”

“Fancy.  What rank?”

“Staff Lieutenant.”

“Not too far ahead of you.  Staff Commander.”

Not as high ranking as he expected, given his age. Joined the Alliance later? It was odd. A rarity.

Was he a veteran of the First Contact War? Could explain the gap, if he left the service after the war.

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not serving under you,” Kaidan purred, getting up from the bed and pulling open a drawer.  He grabbed a clean set of joggers and a tank top and tossed it over to him.  

Nyx smirked once he caught the clothes.  “Agreed.” 

“Anything in particular you like to eat?”

“Nothing on this station is great.  But I do have a fondness for that wing place nearby.”

“Since you paid for my drinks, I’ll pay for our order.”

“I like your offer.  Keep this up and I’ll never leave.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

Nyx shot another heated glance at him before heading out of the room, pulling on his discarded briefs as he headed towards the mini laundry room.

Kaidan wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing, but honestly?  It’s been a long time since he’s been with someone and hell, maybe Nyx will be the one.

He’ll start by judging by his taste in wings and sides.  Something easy, something benign. 

Something to distract him from a quick, growing attraction within his heart to a man that seemed to be one hell of a puzzle. 

"I never did get your info!" Kaidan yelled, getting his attention.

He poked his head out of the doorway, holding up his omnitool with a smirk. "I'll transfer it to you. Lest we forget..."

Kaidan prepped his omnitool for a transfer, waiting for the contact profile to pop up.

NYX SHEPARD.

Now that's why he seemed so familiar.

Butcher of Torfan. Well known veteran of the First Contact War.

And today was the anniversary of Torfan.

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [4] - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] -Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 3.49K words

The cafeteria was lively as you sat across from Peter, every other Spider-variant within the premises also aiming to appease their hunger. Eagerly, you bite into your empanada, relishing the combination of its crispy crust and velvety melted cheese.

Peter chuckled, nudging you from underneath. "Easy there, kid." 

You playfully roll your eyes. "As if you didn't devour your burger just moments ago. Isn't that right, Mayday?" Your voice turns affectionate as you address the adorable little redhead crawling behind you.

Mayday giggles, the feeling of her tiny hands and feet creating small ticklish sensations around your neck. You can't help the snort that escapes you, hand scooping her up from behind and bringing her to the front with a mock stern expression. "Alright, that's enough crawling for today." You let out a chuckle. 

"Like that will stop her," Peter snickers as he places her in the carrier, fully aware that it won't contain her adventurous self. Which becomes true, as she manages to climb over him instead. 

Peter remains unfazed by her antics, shifting the conversation to a different subject. "So..." He begins.

"So?" You raise an eyebrow curiously, prompting him to continue.

"Alright, there's no easier way to say this," He says between bites of his fries, "but it's weird."

"What is?"

"You and Miguel."

"Me and Miguel?" You repeat slowly, trying to grasp his point.

"Yeah, you and Miguel," He confirms, fully devouring his fries. 

You rest your weight against the table, your hand propping up your face. Peter's remark about you and Miguel piques your interest, and the look you give him leaves no room for ambiguity; it's clear that you want an explanation.

Peter clears his throat, his hand rubbing nervously at his neck as he searches for the right words. "Listen, it’s just…you don’t have to force yourself to work with him, kid." 

His concern catches you off guard. Peter had always looked out for you; He was a great mentor despite his occasional childishness, but this was the first time he explicitly expressed worry about Miguel. Normally, he'd dismiss Miguel's personality as mere brooding, choosing not to dwell on it.

Your eyes soften. "I'm fine, Peter," You reassure him. "Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust," He points out. "Look, I like Miguel, he's my friend-"

You choke on a laugh, finding amusement in his assertion.

"He's my friend," Peter emphasizes, teasingly raising an eyebrow. "And I know he hasn't done anything personal to me," He shrugs. "But when it comes to you… there's too much risk."

You contemplate his words, responding with a soft hum. You can't deny that there's truth in what he says. Miguel’s temper was unpredictable, and his actions were often headstrong. But things had taken a different turn in the past three weeks.

For one, you now reported directly to him. No more relying on Jess, Peter, or even resorting to bribing Hobie - That fucker - into delivering your reports. The excessive missions, which left you sleep-deprived and struggling to balance your academics and hero responsibilities, were no more. Even the constant paranoia about your time at HQ vanished, along with the fights and threats that used to overshadow your days. It was simply... No. More.

And yet, you couldn't shake off this persistent feeling whenever you were around Miguel; This feeling was different. It was a mixture of curiosity and unsettled nerves. Finally, you were getting to know Miguel beyond the role of your antagonizing leader -- Not that his personality was any better.

During the short time you worked together, you came to observe his behavior closely. Miguel became easily irritable, seemingly insistent on having everything run smoothly; Promptness and discipline were non-negotiable. He sought competent recruits and had little tolerance for the younger Spider variants, particularly Hobie and occasionally Gwen. Pavitr seemed to be the most favored among the three.

As a leader, he exuded authority and demanded respect from those under his command. However, it was hard to ignore that he could be overbearingly uptight in his approach — a characteristic that was hardly surprising to anyone familiar with his leadership style.

Yet, he also displayed moments of serenity — a side that still felt foreign to you. These glimpses intrigued you, especially since they seemed to occur more frequently due to your arrangement. But you knew better than to let your guard down. After all, Miguel was a paradox that you were still trying to understand.

Mayday's gurgling brought you back to focus, you taking notice of the look Peter was giving you. You sigh as you sit up, "I'm fine, Peter." Seeking to steer the conversation elsewhere, you inquire, "Anyways, where's Gwen?"

Peter relents at your response, though you sense he wants to say more on the matter. "She's back in her universe, doing her usual patrolling," He answers. "You know, typical friendly neighborhood Spiderman duties."

"Right," You nod, feeling a pang of realization that it's been a while since you patrolled your New York. "Gotta work on that," You mutter, pursing your lips.

Your dimensional watch then lights up. With a brief groan, you throw away any remaining food, quickly ruffling Mayday's curls and flashing Peter a sheepish smile. "Duty calls," You roll your eyes. 

"Take care, kid."

"Not a kid!" You call out as you web away. 

------

You grumble as you glance at the clock on the wall for the third time. "Where is he?"

You have been waiting for the past fifteen minutes, and Miguel was still nowhere to be found. Bouncing your leg impatiently, you call out to the only thing that keeps track of him. "Lyla!" You shout. "Where is he?" You narrow your eyes as the AI pop.

"He should be here soon." 

"You said that last time."

"Okay, okay." Lyla concedes, summoning a small hologram screen. "He should be here in... three, two, one."

On cue, a portal opens up, your eyes following the tall figure that propels himself forward, his formidable claws acting as both anchor and propulsion against the resistance of the floor. You wince as the grating sound of his claws scrapes against the surface that echoes through the room. 

You raise an eyebrow, hip jutting to the side by his lack of acknowledgment. "Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance," You murmur under your breath.

"What was that?" He snaps. 

"I said how great of you to be here," You respond, forcing a smile.

"I'd lose that tone if I were you."

"Or what?" You taunt, sauntering over. "You'll kick me out again?" You suggest with a small smug smile on your face. "I thought we were past that, boss."

"Miguel," He corrects you with a firm tone.

"Right, of course," You reply, feigning an apologetic tone.

You catch him out of the corner of your eye, taking a deep breath as he tilts his head to the side, seemingly attempting to regain his patience; you snicker. Testing Miguel's patience has somehow become a source of amusement for you. Part of you knew it was a bit of retribution for the problematic months he caused you in the past -- Small payback for the frustrations endured. On the other hand, doubt also played a role; You couldn't help but wonder when or what would disrupt this unusual balance between the two.

"Do you understand?" His voice prompts your attention back to the present.

"Hm?" You look at him confused, inwardly cringing as you realize you've zoned out once again.

Miguel sighs, running a hand down his face while murmuring a mantra under his breath, "Paciencia, paciencia..."

With a swift motion, he opens a portal, indicating for you to follow. "Just follow my lead," he instructs.

You follow Miguel through the portal and find yourself in a bustling cityscape. It's a different version of New York, one unfamiliar to you. The building you stand on is sleek and futuristic, with holographic advertisements flickering around every corner. The coloring in this universe is oversaturated with warm yellow undertones, reflecting a tropical and dry climate that matches the city's appearance. As you take in the sights, you can't help but fan yourself to combat the heat.

"So, what's the plan?" You ask, attempting to focus on the mission. "And why are we here?"

Miguel glances at you, noticing your efforts to cope with the weather. "We're here to meet a friend of mine," he explains, brows furrowing at the word 'friend'. "They've gathered some intel for something I need."

"Which is?"

"Not worth mentioning," He replies curtly.

"So what? You brought me along to keep an eye on me?" You retort, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

"Would you have preferred working on catching the Lizard with Jess?" Miguel counters a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"Shutting up now." You mutter, not willing to argue any further.

"Glad to agree on something." He remarks with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, the two of you diving off the building and swinging through the city. Several blocks away, you finally land in an alleyway, your eyes scanning the surroundings before fixing on a figure leaning against the wall. It doesn't take long for you to recognize that distinctive black ensemble. You purse your lips, casting a sidelong glance at Miguel.

"Seriously?" You remark. "You consider her a friend and not Peter."

Miguel lets out an exasperated sigh, removing his mask as he strides toward her, with you following closely behind.

"Felicia." He addresses with a nod.

The woman smirks, her fingers playfully curling around her hair as she chuckles. "Que paso mi rey? No kiss this time?"

At her remark, you raise your eyebrows in surprise, realizing she speaks Spanish -- Of course, she does -- but the mention of a kiss catches you off guard. Once again, you cast a sidelong glance at Miguel.

"Felicia," He warns, brushing off your inquisitive stare. "Did you bring the drive or not?"

Felicia nonchalantly pushes herself off the wall, her hips swaying as she walks over to you, seemingly disregarding Miguel's presence. "And which variant are you?" She asks, her finger tracing down the exposed area beneath your mask, an alluring glint in her eyes.

A wry smile plays on your lips. "The one with boundary issues," You quip, hands firmly grabbing hers by the wrist to snatch away from your face. Irritation surges within you, already vowing to give Miguel a piece of your mind after this.

Felicia hums, her demeanor exuding confidence. "Feisty," She purrs, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I can see the appeal." She gives you one final glance before shifting her attention back to Miguel. "And I did," she says, holding up a silver drive between her fingers, her other hand resting on her hip as she grins.

"Now for your end of the bargain," She adds, her movements fluid and seductive as she approaches Miguel, lingering hands pulling him closer by the neck before abruptly kissing him.

"I'm gonna be sick," You groan, unable to bear the display before you. You turn away, shielding yourself from the awkwardness unfolding. Despite your best efforts, a small gag escapes you as you hear Felicia moan during the kiss. The whole situation leaves you feeling thoroughly impatient to get this ordeal over with.

The distinct sound of Miguel clearing his throat snaps your attention toward them. Every aspect of this situation bugs you; Nothing was more disturbing than witnessing your boss engage in flirtatious banter with a notorious burglar. 

"Was that necessary?" You click your tongue.

"Of course, mi reina," Felicia smirks, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her other hand raises a small transparent vial for you to see. 

You study the object in her hands, realizing the implication of what she did. "You extracted his venom?" You look back at Miguel. "And you let it happen?" 

Miguel doesn't offer a direct answer; instead, he's already in motion, utilizing his web shooters to swing back to the initial building you both had arrived at. You're left alone with Felicia, her curious eyes trying to decipher your thoughts.  

She folds her arms across her chest, her confident stride carrying her as she circles you. "You don't even realize, do you?"

"Realize what?"

She chuckles, her head tilting back in what is both alluring and unsettling. "Please, if I can smell it, you don't think he has?" Her question is sharp and perceptive.

You feel your muscles tense, your mouth opening to say something but unable to form the words. Instead, your hands clench at your sides, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Ay reina," She mocks. "It never occurred to you that the only other spider variant with a keen sense of smell would eventually pick up on your condition?"

She leans closer, her lips near your ear. "Friendly advice," She chuckles, "at the rate you're going, don't fight it."

With a final, knowing wink, Felicia turns on her heel, leaving you to process everything until now. Her words linger in the air, and you're left to grapple with the implications of her revelations.

------

Back at HQ, you find Miguel in the control room, fully engrossed in his work. Upon hearing your entry, he swiftly glances back, his expression unreadable, making it difficult to decipher what's on his mind.

"What?" You ask, genuinely curious about his thoughts.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive," He admits, though his face remains composed, revealing little.

You can't resist the chance to tease him, a small smirk forming on your lips. "I'm growing on you, aren't I?" You quip, propping yourself casually on an empty panel beside him. "Glad you finally caught on."

Miguel scoffs, but you catch a hint of a smile trying to break through his composure. "Let's not get carried away," he says, though there's subtle amusement in his voice.

A beat passes, then two, and an awkward silence ensues, leaving you both contemplating the unspoken words that linger. 

You sigh, mostly frustrated with yourself — Why was this hard? — Why was it that anytime there was some evident shift within your dynamic, everything shut down?

There’s some hesitation on his end as he turns to face you. "I was skeptical," he admits. "About this partnership."

You hum.

"I get it," You reply, attempting to maintain the conversation. "I kind of branded myself with that mission."

Determined to steer away from any trip down the lane of guilt or regret, you quickly perk up, summoning a sudden burst of energy that takes Miguel by surprise.

"I have to ask," You begin, your curiosity getting the best of you. "But Felicia?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the connection between the two.

At this, he breaks into a full-on chuckle, his deep and resonant laugh filling the room. His infectious laughter catches you off guard, and you can't help but join in, the tension between you momentarily dissolving in the shared moment of amusement.

"Felicia, she’s…" He trails offs, unsure of how to respond. 

"Tempting? Charming? A mutual you can fu-" You start to say, but his hand quickly covers your mouth, silencing you with a warning glare. You roll your eyes, partly amused by his reaction.

"Are you done now?" He asks, tone a bit bored.

You give a single nod, your eyes locking with his. He removes his hand from your mouth, adjusting his body slightly as you're still perched on the panel. Despite the casualness of the situation, you can't help but notice the newfound proximity between the two of you. You study his expression, finding it far more relaxed than before.

"She told me you knew," You say, gaze never wavering.

Don’t do that, you think as you watch his forehead crease with evident concern. Your thoughts race as he tilts your face in his direction, a gesture that feels uncomfortably intimate — Don’t do that either — silently admonishing yourself for noticing it.

His eyes narrow, softly inhaling as he scans your face before ultimately pulling back. 

"Lyla, scan her," he commands, and you instinctively object. "What? Lyla, don't—"

"Scan complete," Lyla chimes in, casting you an apologetic virtual glance.

Miguel crosses his arms, and you feel a mix of indignation and frustration at the abrupt intrusion. "Diagnostic report," he demands, and you can't help but furrow your brows in irritation.

"And directly asking me wouldn't have sufficed?"

"You'd lie," He replies bluntly, reviewing Lyla's assessment. With a swift gesture, he amplifies the screen, sliding it over for you to see.

You don't bother looking at the report, already well aware of the issues plaguing you; The migraines, the weakening of your physical state, the occasional nose bleeds. Nothing about you was right after the glitch with the dimensional watch, and your condition only worsened with your increased use of abilities -- For him. 

"It stops now," He declares firmly. "I don't need your help."

You jump off the panel. "Now look who's lying," you accuse. "Please tell me you don't simply believe that I'm under the impression of just helping ease your grief," You look expectantly.

But he remains silent, and the lack of response only fuels your frustration, pushing you to let out a chortle of sarcastic laughter.

This time, it's you who catches him off guard. Without a second thought, you stride purposefully toward his computer panels, pulling back a drawer and forcefully slamming the object in your hand against his chest.

"This is why I'm here," Your gaze is stern. "To help deprive you of this addiction you have with this thing," You withdraw yourself from him, leaving the Rapture device in his hands.

You let out a deep exhale, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "I'm just trying to help."

"We can't help anyone," He snaps. "You're at the brink of death, and I'm on the verge of losing any semblance of humanity within me."

"But we can try! We can always try," You reason with a sense of exasperation. "Isn't that purpose of this whole thing?" You assert, referencing the society he created.

Miguel's calculating gaze remains fixed on you, his chest heaving slightly as if he's internally struggling to contain his anger. He lifts his finger as if to say something but abruptly closes his eyes and turns away.

"Dejame."

His dismal aggravates you, making you refuse to let the conversation end. "No, you don't just get to stand there and tell me to leave when we're both at fault here."

He continues to walk past you, his shoulder bumping against yours as he approaches the exit, seemingly intent on walking away from the confrontation.

"Miguel!" You follow him. "I'm talking to you," You persist, undeterred in your pursuit. "Dammit, listen to me-"

Before you can fully grasp what's happening, you feel his firm grip on your shoulders, back forcefully slamming against the entrance frame. He effectively traps you in, and you find yourselves glaring at each other with such intensity. The moment hangs heavily between you, and it's clear that neither of you is willing to back down.

"Tu..." He growls out. "Tu me matas de rabia."

"Feelings mutual," You grit, eyes unyielding. 

"Fine." 

You expect him to pull away, to break the tension between you, but he doesn't. You both remain locked, neither willing to back down from your controlled fits of anger. And as you feel the air around you crackle with unresolved emotions, the silence between you grows heavy with anticipation.

But you're the one who leans forward, closing the distance between your lips and his. And before long, you feel his hands moving to grab you by your hips, the hunger in the kiss evident, with the sound of his soft growls escaping him as you nip at his lips for entrance.

It was all so contradicting, the way you both clung to each other, with a mixture of lingering animosity and newfound desire fueling the moment. Miguel couldn't comprehend why he reciprocated, why he hadn't let you go. But he couldn't deny the pleasure he felt from listening to your soft gasps.

But the sudden interruption of Lyla's voice breaks the spell, jolting you both back to reality. Instinctively, you push Miguel away, your mind racing to process what just happened as you catch your breath. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, his mouth closing in a resigned expression.

You want to explain, to find the right words to address what had impulsively occurred between the two, but Lyla interrupts again, drawing Miguel's attention. 

"Miguel," She calls out urgently, "requesting backup now."

Miguel acknowledges his AI, sending her away with a nod before looking at you. With a heavy sigh, he retreats, putting a silent end to whatever had transpired between you both.

The words Felicia had spoken earlier now echo in your mind. She had been right about one thing — you didn't fight it, and now you were screwed.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

[Translations]

Patience, patience

What's the matter love (Literal translation is king, but its a form of saying, love)

Leave

You fill me with rage

Tag list:

@digipaw2-0 @alexisabirdie @keenzinemugstudent @dirtydiavolo @saturnknows @judeslostfinger @joyhdh @myconglomerateromance @lady-necromancer @envyjmoney

[simpforchuchu]

Yosuke Todoroki - General Dating Hcs

a/n: I just love my precious Todo so much and here you are ;)

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: none

• Todoroki generally has a calm character.  Yes, he is never afraid to fight, but he manages to stay cool and calm.

•  I don't think he trusts anyone.

•  He didn't allow anyone to be around except Tsuji and Shibaman.They were the first to open his completely closed heart

•  Considering he's a nerd who's been bullied for years, I think that's pretty normal.

•  He got stronger, put an end to it and he  changed

•  Although we saw him as a power-hungry and ambitious person for a while, we know that he has matured quite a bit and now has "friends"

•  I don't think Todoroki is the type to fall in love at first sight.He needs to know his partner well and spend time with her.

•  I don't even think he was aware of his feelings for a long time.

• In time, he will realize his feelings.

• Maybe his friends will make him realize

•  I think he will like someone ordinary

•  He needs a calm and kind hearted person who is absolutely free from fights and gangs.

•  I'm sure he fall in love with someone smart.

•  No, when I said smart, I didn't mean just academically. 

• Someone who has her own ideas, strong and mature.

•  Her grades don't have to be great, he'll explain things she doesn't understand.

•  Or she doesn't need to be physically strong, he will always be there for her

•  I don't think he would want someone too childish, he is someone who feels cringe easily so he will definitely like someone mature

•  But I don't think he would say no to someone funny, someone who can be herself with him will make him happy

•  I'm sure he'll want her to protect herself. So even if she is weak to fight, he will show her little tricks.

•  Also, this boy really likes to do exercises.He's muscular even though he looks pretty healthy and thin. 

• So I think he will enjoy doing exercises with her.

•  I think he'll have a hard time confessing it.He is confident but not very good with words. I think he'll try to show it instead of saying it

•  If y/n is the first to say it, that's totally okay too

•  I think he needs someone who trusts him, who truly loves him and who understands him.

•  When he's away from all the chaos, he needs a safe place, a home.

•  He's tall, so he likes to lie on his girlfriend's stomach, chest, or hug her from behind and rest his head on her shoulder.

•  He really likes physical contact and that's how he shows his love

•  I can't say that he has a problem with the PDA, but he will mostly hold her hand tightly or always have his hand on her waist or shoulder.

•  Not much of a fan of long kisses in public, preferring small and short kisses..

•  He is not talkative, he thinks that no one will understand him.That's why someone who listens quietly and makes him feel understood is very valuable to him.

•  I don't think he will tell anyone for a long time, he doesn't hide it but he won't tell unless asked

•  Tsuji and Shibaman are their biggest shipper and fan

•  I believe his girlfriend will get along well with them.Todoroki trusts them

•  He may be strong and scary, he may not smile a lot other than sarcasm but he definitely smiles when he's with you

•  He shows his sweetest and funniest side to his girlfriend

•  I don't think you fight a lot, these fights must be for a really serious reason

•  He's not stubborn, he'll definitely apologize if he's wrong, but he expects the same from you.

•  Like I said, he's not great with words, he's trying to show it more with his actions.

•  He can cook for you, gift you new books to read together, and will strive to learn about your hobbies.

•  He wants to know everything about you, you are very precious to him and he wants you to know that

•  He may seem cold and scary on the outside, but I'm sure that he always looks at you with compassion and love.

•  Dates are usually in quiet and peaceful places, maybe fishing or picnics by a lake.

•  You are where he finds peace

•  He definitely knows how to take care of sick people and is knowledgeable about your menstrual periods.

•  He knows that he can be quite annoying at times too, so he will be considerate for you

•  You can cry in front of him, he will not judge you or find you weak. 

• He will hold you tight and play with your hair until you calm down.

•  I don't think you'll ever see him cry but he's okay with that, he sees no problem opening up to you

•  He knows the city is dangerous, so he is always worried.  He always walks home with you and often wants to check that nothing is wrong.

•  Sometimes he feels bad about it but he always tells you that he trusts you, that he's just afraid of his enemies hurting you.

• He's not one to get hurt easily, but I don't think he'll show you.He hates making you worry.

•  He doesn't sleep much, when you sleep together he always sleeps after you and wakes up first.

•  Definitely a big spoon.

•  A slow-moving but well-founded relationship

•  You are everyone's dream couple and Tsuji&Shiba are definitely acting like you adopted them...

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @satraninalane