#If only so that I can sleep on it and re-read it with a fresh mind tomorrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gallusrostromegalus · 7 months ago

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Hi, I was re-reading the AEIWAM tag and was wondering how exactly Aizen manages to kill Genkai? She seems one of the most put-together Kenpachi's and Aizen is well Aizen? Did he do it himself or were the curse nails involved?

Kenpachi Genkai has a Lieutenant named Gosuke Kiganjo.

She's fond of Gosuke. He's a quick-witted man with a delightfully jaded opinion of humanity, in contrast to young wife Kakiyo, who has such a resolute sense of Justice she can sometimes make the elderly captain almost believe in the inherent goodness of humanity again. They make a splendid couple, her willingness to do the hard work of improving lives pairs well with his pragmatism and sense of efficiency.

Genkai enjoys their company- it's a terrible thing to be Old, but worse to be Old and Lonely, so she allows them to have her over. She and Kakiyo debate the practicality of the young woman's latest scheme to improve life in the Rukongai while Gosuke cooks. Genkai is sure Yamamoto's decision to transfer Kakiyo as a seated officer in the 4th to lieutenant of the 5th Division under Captain Hirako is not just balancing Shinji's tendency to procrastinate on his work and take inadvisable shortcuts. Yamamoto plans to have her run the 5th someday, and Genkai agrees with the choice.

Oftentimes Kakiyo and Gosuke's friend Sosuke Aizen is there too. He's an agreeable young man, if somewhat forgettable. He has a good memory though, and generous- he always brings fresh produce for Gosuke to make dinner with, and always remembers Genkai's fondness for Garlic Greens.

(continued under the cut)

Gosuke missed his calling as a housewife, Genkai thinks, with no small appreciation of the work that goes into running a house. But he is a splendid cook, and she enjoys many dinners with the couple and their friends.

But she is old. She feels it in her heart- not emotionally, she's not sentimental, but she feels it in the way her heart skips and thuds and the sharp pains in her chest. "Cardiac Arrhythmia" Unohana says. Her heart is failing, falling out of sync, and someday, she'll have a massive heart attack if she's not killed in the traditional way Kenpachis are.

Unohana offers her treatment- Foxglove, deadly to eat a leaf, but diluted into Digitoxin pills, it steadies her heart a bit. She takes the pills with some reluctance- when she remembers to. The duties of a captain are many and more complex than ever, and again, she allows Gosuke to do her a favor- He remembers her medication schedule, and puts the pills next to every meal he cooks for her- almost all of them these days.

...But eventually, the inevitable happens, and three months after her diagnosis, Ninth Kenpachi Genkai dies of a massive heart attack in her sleep after dinner at Gosuke and Kakiyo's home.

When Retsu Unohana does her autopsy of Genkai, something seems amiss- the damage to Genkai's heart is much more advanced than Unohana had expected from her exam less than twelve weeks ago. She should have known- Genkai wouldn't splint broken bones half the time, preferring to rely on her body to heal, and underestimating what she was borrowing from the future.

Unohana rules her Cause Of Death as "Heart Failure", and can only assume that Genkai had not benefited from what little of the Digitoxin she managed to take.

---

A week later, Kiganjo is promoted to Captain of the 11th, and according with tradition, forgoes his given name to assume the Title and mantle of the office.

Now-Kenpachi Kiganjo is somewhat overwhelmed by his new duties, as well as wracked with grief. He cannot bear to clean out his beloved Captain's quarters. Kakiyo grieves differently- the physical work and care she can give to the former captain's belongings will ease the emotional pain, so she offers to clean out the captain's quarters for him.

She is still friends with her colleagues in the fourth, especially Unohana, and as a Lieutenant she's entitled to see the results of the Autopsy. Its puzzling, Unohana's statement that she must not have taken her medication- she watched Gos- her husband put her pills on the tray of every meal he cooked for her in the last twelve weeks. Was she just throwing them away?

It's even more confusing when the clean-out fails to turn up a single pill. She should have found some in the trash or swept under the furniture, right? Maybe it had all been taken out.

That night, she's home alone. Go- her husband is working late while he catches up on the job. She opens the pantry and glares at it- part of the reason she married him was that he was such a good cook. She never got the hang of it, that was always Kaname's chore growing up. Ugh. It's been a long and emotional day and she's got a headache-

She opens the medicine cabinet in search of the aspirin, and is confronted with the Perscription Bottle of Digitoxin. That must be where he was storing it while he cooked for Genkai. Best remove it before he gets back and is reminded- she thinks as she picks the bottle up.

It's full. In fact. It's completely unopened. ...And the pills look nothing like the ones G- Her Husband had been putting on Genkai's tray.

She stands there. Trying to make sense of it. Was this a second bottle? Prescriptions came in three-month supplies, maybe he had just finished out the first bottle when she died, and this would have been her next bottle of medication? She goes to check the date-

"Anyone home?" 5th Division third seat Aizen calls out.

"MOTHER FUCK- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Aizen- You startled me and it's- it's- Oh God, I miss her so much!" Kakiyo sobs, and Aizen appears at her side, a comforting shoulder to cry on.

He escorts her to the living room and lets her sob while he gets the kitchen in order and cooks- He used to be a confectioner before he was a Shinigami and he makes a good fried rice too. He tells her stories about the candy business and childhood chicanery he got up to with his brother back in West 43 until-

-She almost doesn't recognize the man as her husband at first. Something is wrong with his posture, stooped and sluggish, and grimacing where there should be a grin. But the tenth Kenpachi comes and embraces his wife, and- it's alright. He's still her husband, and she lets him carry her to bed.

When she wakes up late the next morning, she stumbles into the bathroom and squints at the counter- There was something in here she needed to ask her husband about- Something about? Ugh. She can't remember. She feels hungover, and whatever it was is gone now.

---

On his way back to the 5th, Sosuke Aizen stops on the bridge over the canal, looks around to make sure he is alone, and dumps the bottle of digitoxin pills into the canal. He tears off the label from the bottle, tears it up, takes a look around for witnesses again, and throws the bottle and torn label into the trash-filled canal.

Lily of the Valley is the token flower of the 5th division, a symbol of Purity and Innocence. It's also quite poisonous- all parts of the plant are toxic, and will cause cardiac problems in high enough or continuous doses. Foragers must be very careful to not mistake the leaves for wild garlic greens- they look extremely similar. Lily Of The Valley has not much flavor, so a few leaves might not be noticed in a whole bunch, especially if they're all cooked in the same dish together.

Eating a bit won't kill, but one leaf in a bunch a few times a week could prove fatal in a few short months. Especially if the person is prevented from taking Digitoxin to counteract the effects.

He nearly had a heart attack himself when he saw the bottle on the bathroom counter, but with Kakiyo so tired already, it wasn't hard to weave Suigetsu's illusions around her, cutting off her memory of the bottle, and the autopsy report.

He'll have to talk to his co-conspirator about these slip-ups. His wife is quite observant, and it would be a shame if the lovely Kakiyo had to be dealt with as well. At least, before she has been of more use to Aizen. His plan demands that he eventually control the Fifth division, and the fact she outranks him is... inconvenient.

---

About a week later, Head Librarian of the West 51 District Library Kaname Tousen receives a letter from his sister Kakiyo in the Seireitei. She writes (Or rather, she has carefully dented the Vellum with Braille, the thin calfskin holds the marks better through the mail) about the sudden decline and death of their good friend Genkai, and how profoundly the loss has effected his brother-in-law. She doesn't actually use the name "Gosuke" anywhere in the letter, only referring to him as "My husband".

Kaname is saddened as he reads, but then he worries, as she writes about how stressed she's been- strange lapses in memory, paperwork mislaid- thank goodness third seat Aizen had found and filed that report for her. How distant and humorless her husband has been- coming home late and reeking of alcohol even! She has the terrible feeling that there is something wrong, even more than her friend's sudden and saddening death. Something is terribly, terribly wrong, but she can't imagine what it is.

...Maybe it's just the grief. I keep seeing conspiracies in coincidences, jumping at shadows- but there's nothing there.

I know you've got the summer reading program, and I can't take enough time to travel out there right now- write back soon? Tell me about the summer students and the state of the town, how you and Sajin are. You have a gentleness with your words I could use right now.

All my love,

Kakiyo

#Bleach #bleach fanfiction #AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Kaname Tousen #aizen sosuke #long post under the cut #cw: fictional murder

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plasticfangtastic · 4 months ago

Text

Dairy Girl-- Part 3

A Homelander x F!Reader fic

A/N: 1more part to go, I've be going on a 4 day trip on wed so I should post the final part next wk, thanks everybody for reading here is part 2 (there's a link for part 1 there)

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

tags: child death mention, depressive, dark, kidnapping, stocklhom syndrome, HL tw.

word count: 4.4K

Part 3-- Fields

Months.

You’ve been here for months.

You aren’t quite certain of the timeframe but you kept track of the full moon, how often things faded and re-emerged, you’re sure half a year of your life has vanished slower than ever before, for weeks you find yourself holding on, now you aren’t sure why? This body of yours grows heavier around his arms as you sat there in that massive corner booth listening, as he squeezed your jacket as if to remind you he had a hold on you… or to make sure you were okay, you hoped.

Several months have passed and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up in this Chinese restaurant having dinner with your captor.

Homelander’s visitation continued to be more sporadic, your time seems of less importance these days, you find yourself painfully alone, no matter how pretty the tapestry, how interesting the films have become, how delicious the food is or how the forced expansion of your music taste as they feed you an eclectic collection from japanese city pop to medieval folk rock albums changed the fact that you were alone. It had been endless weeks since you last saw a human being beside Homelander.

You stared at that steel door, its presence tempting you, mocking you, insulting you.

You pressed aimlessly at the panel hoping it would break or force somebody to emerge to tell you off– just the sound of a live human would be enough to fill this emptiness inside you even if it was for a short burst. The library elevator had been locked and no amount of pulling would get it to break, your voice, your sole company, birds would come and sing ‘hello’ but as pretty as they were they flew away at the sight of you.

Everything was perpetually quiet.

At least when the sun still lingered.

At night you couldn’t even sleep this awfulness off, your brain trapped you in a different nightmare.

The only time when this house wasn’t submerged in silence was in your slumber.

Ghost lived here you’ve come to accept.

“Every night I have the same nightmares” you spoke to a squirrel one morning

Cries of a baby you can never find, as you wake up, dazed and exhausted you hear the faintest cry and all your mind has tried to do these past few weeks and months have been to move on but ghostly cries forever remind you of the emptiness left in your arms, ghost hoping to crush everything within you, but when the sun is out you tell yourself that your baby boy is gone, you accept it.

Every night before bed you recite a fresh mantra ‘you’re okay now, that in the future perhaps you could finally become a mother, that the embers still burn inside you, your love is there but is not wrong to move on’ but your nightmares won’t let you move on from a pain you couldn’t forget.

You pray to whatever god you believed, or used to believe for dreamless slumber, each night the thought of sleep frightens you, making you wish for death for it was kinder.

The only peaceful slumber comes with a blond catch.

In your arms he’s both small and larger than life, light and heavy, his lips pursed on your sensitive skin, his quiet moans and mewls send shivers down your spine yet bring you an animalistic primal comfort that tap in a primitive part of your motherly brain, his scent fades and returns the next time reeking of oatmeal and chamomile, as your nose sinks on his hair and he wraps his naked hand around your waist itching to crawl higher, to hold your breast much like a real baby would you forget he is grown, picking his fingers and letting them hang on your own, in this times were you drift away from boredom– you sleep peacefully. Wondering if there was safety in this? The world’s most powerful man held against your bosom, nothing could hurt you here– not even the nightmares. Afraid of him you supposed.

Homelander looks up with glassed eyes, licking his lips as he pops your nipple out his mouth, blissed out, so happy it colors you with envy– that’s the only smile you know it's 100% genuine, you seen all his earlier movies it certainly been refined but his smile is disturbingly faux… convincingly sold, nevertheless as he nuzzles you and giggles softly into your chest that you learn what his truly looked like.

When was the last time you smiled like that? You wondered.

You hand caressed his face cleaning a loose drop off his chin.

“You want me to stay tonite?”

It’s been almost 2 weeks since he stayed more than a couple hours, you don’t know what to say, he still fills you with fear but as the afternoon glow colors the tapestry and the night creeps closer and closer you want that safety… just one night without nightmares.

“Please stay…”

Homelander smiles and squeezes your sides, forcing you into a hug, he begins talking and is not a conversation you can follow or wished to but is music nowadays– the sound of another person, it's the sweetest music you’d ever listened to, searing banalities into your eardrums, but its sweet… something to make you forget that by morning he’d be gone and you be left alone with nothing but ghosts and thoughts.

“Can we switch positions?” Your arm has grown numb under him.

He grumbles pouting like a child, but he’s happy to oblige, the TV plays quietly in the background you’re unsure how much longer the tape has, but he stares at you as he sits straight waiting for further instruction, while you fix the pillows.

“I just want to be the little spoon…”

Homelander eyes light up–literally. It doesn’t last long and his lips curl dropping on the bed with eager eyes, your grimace is internal but you crawl into padded arms.

“Promise me you won’t leave in the middle of the night…” you say so quietly, he stares at those pretty eyes of yours and those thick dark circles under your eyes allowing himself to caress your cheek– until morning…”

“Ryan is off on a camping trip with one of his buddies… I can stay the whole weekend.”

“Weekend?”

“It’s friday, Y/N.” He says as if that was obvious.

Your eyes open so wide it hurts your face, but you nod furiously, a part of you dies, whatever self-respect you had is fading as the only thought consuming you is that for at least 2 days you’ll have company.

“I’m surprised you let him go”

“I have a few men watching him from a distance, and I can fly and check up on him at any point” he says through gritted teeth.

“It’s nice that you trust him. Must make him feel like a big kid… My parents never let me do such things…”

“Why not?” He asks, watching you with genuine surprise as your body loses resistance, sinking into him.

“They worried too much… always sheltering me… watching over me…” You missed them, you missed a world of people, now those obnoxious actions of the past warm your heart but you don’t let it be seen– He’s lucky to have you.”

You stayed in his arms until the credits finished rolling.

“Kill the feed!” Homelander shouts startlingly you stiff, he waits in silence grinding his teeth, jumping out of the bed almsot throwing you off the mattress, once his cape unfastened he turns back to you– what? you think i'm gonna lay down all night in this?”

You just watched him as he moved around your room entering your closet as you shook off the scare, and procuring an oversized t-shirt grumbling to himself about ordering some loungewear, you watched him undress with your heart creeping up your throat, squeezing the duvet as your worst nightmares tease an entrance to reality, with each thud of his suit and clanking of gold your heart rate doubled in speed, he who had very much avoided touching most of you, could very much do so and you’d be powerless to stop him, he turns around throwing you a look of disbelief making you wonder if ‘mind-reading’ was a unpublicized skill of his.

Without his suit… he seemed more human than he had any right to be, his bright orange undies peeking under the old t-shirt with a pulled neck allowing you to see a handful of chest hairs creeping up, Homelander left you in the room heading out, his eyes examining that all cameras were in fact turn off and so were the microphones, stopping by a tacky painting of kittens in the hallway, tapping on the thick frame carefully.

“I was thinking I should have this place redecorated” He said loudly, his hand stroking the frame– bring it into the 21st century… What do you like– farmhouse chic… art deco? Altho your house was a mix-match of things.”

You jumped off the bed and followed him keeping distance as you tried to suppress your trembling hands.

“You’ve been to my house?”

“I was curious about you… you’ve been here 5 months and the doctors are surprised you haven’t… lost your mind.” He turns to you– altho you’ve been playing the music twice as loud as before”

“Is lonely in here…” You look away trying to figure out the best words you ought to say– you haven’t visited me in weeks”

“I told you. I’m busy– I have a movie… we are doing some re-shoots… the studio feels like they need a new direction and we needed a new post-credit scene so it ties up with The Deep’s next film and–” he bites his tongue– I should call… I’ll have a phone installed… but what can I do to make your stay here less lonesome.``

“Keep me company… at least downstairs I could see the other girls…” You look down– are they okay?”

“That whole thing has been shut down. No need for it to continue if I have you.”

He didn’t expect to see that beam of light in your eyes, but then those lips of yours straightened for something sinister came into your mind.

“What happened to them?” Faces that were still fresh in your mind spoil– are they okay?”

“Who knows…” he shrugs with genuine indifference– oh don’t make that look! I didn’t make the order, I simply told them to close shop… I can find out if you want.”

Staring into his eyes for what could’ve been an eternity but you never answered, which seemed to please him, he stretched his hand asking for yours and in that darkened hallway he seemed to be its only shadow, you obeyed afraid of displeasing him punished with abandonment for another endless loop, his fingers are always so warm and soft around yours.

“You don’t sleep very much do you? I used to sleep a lot when they left me alone… which wasn’t often” He squeezes your hand pulling you closer– you can talk to me, Y/N. I want to know…”

“You’ve been to my home… you should know why I don’t sleep much…”

“I can’t… imagine what you’ve been thru… If I lost Ryan–”

“I accepted it. I think it just wasn’t my time or his time…” You cut him off– I don’t know ‘bout God’s plan or nuthin but I just accepted that maybe one day it be for me but not yet.”

Homelander gave you a half moon, glad to see how strong you’ve been, glad to know you could withstand his abuse… you continued to be a challenge.

That night you both laid in bed, cradling him in your arms watching him mumble loudly in his sleep, his eyes shifting wildly, you watch him fight in his nightmare as you thought of your own… of those women and the bottles, how your signatured had doomed them, you bit your lips and watched him until exhaustion ate you up.

Waking up with a kiss from the sun without ever experiencing a single nightmare, not even their faces haunt your sleep.

It made you ill to be so relieved.

He kept you company, watching movies and eating popcorn, lounging around forcing you to read books to him, you thought that this would all you two would do-- just lounge around and pretend you weren’t growing bored.

“Wanna go out for dinner?”

Your ears perked up.

“I’ll go and tell them to get us some clothes, and we can go have dinner.”

“You mean outside?”

“Of course silly… you’ve been good, I think you deserve it.” He jumps off the couch, heading towards the metal door dragging his feet– you like chinese. I saw you had lots of take-out menus.”

“I would love to” You ran after him, hugging him– can we get Ice-cream too… afterwards?”

“I could always go for a milkshake.” He kissed your cheek– be a good girl and go get ready would ya?”

He faded into the other side, hearing those metal doors slide open filled you with joy, you had your chance, you were good, you did all that Homelander wanted of you, you listened to his endless ramblings and you gave him what he stole you for without complaint, and now he rewarded you, the gods had finally heard you.

This was your chance.

You would run to the cops, you would hide in the sewers, you would run until your feet were stumps if you had to but you would get out of here, away from him, away from his dollhouse.

You were so focused you didn't even register his sudden kiss until you started to undress in the bathroom, you touched your cheek wondering about why he'd done so.

You did as you were told and as your hair dried he came back bearing clothes from this century entering the bedroom as you stood covered with nothing but a towel, he came in an orange t-shirt and a navy jacket his sight on your face as if he had manners. It took you a few seconds to realize these were your clothes, washed and ironed, he threw them in the bed lingering for a few seconds before returning you some privacy.

“You look good” You smile feeling weird in your own clothes, nothing but a band t-shirt and your best jeans, he handed you a jacket that was definitely not yours but a matching one to his own– they told me there’s this bar you liked quite a bit”

“The Loose End?” you smiled, they knew you there, the bartender knew you by name, the regular waitress Liz knew you too, if he took you there you could find a way out– they’re cheap and the nachos are great… and they have live music every weekend.”

“It’s a date then.”

For the first time you crossed those steel doors, those wall held a boring room, a set of desk littered here and there alongside filing cabinets, a young man in a lab coat handed Homelander something while you looked around everywhere this whole setup was nothing but a repurposed kitchen, a storage close, and the entry hall, two large windows let the light in allowing you to see the driveway, and more evergreen forest, there were no houses just road and bushes indeed this location was as desolated as initially suspected. Leaving through the front door you spotted a pair of bikes parked on the side, while the garage was closed. A random man dragged a trolley filled with peonies, your feet were trembling as you stepped on that welcome mat, the air was so chilly against your skin, so refreshing on cracking lips.

Grass… trees… clouds… nowhere to run, you looked at the bikes but never did you look for their keys five seconds ago.

“Are we getting an Uber?” You looked at him.

He took you by the waist, not giving you an answer before jumping straight into the heavens, there was a town to the east, a highway near it, before your words could leave your body, he pressed your face against his shoulder, it's a whistling sound singing in your ear as an insanely heavy weighted blanket slammed against you, this song kept playing cut abruptly by honking, your feet hit the ground and you could’ve sworn you’ve died he lets go of your head messin with your hair as you parted from this tight embrace, looking bemused.

“Am I alive?”

“There’s not a safer vehicle in the world than me.” He chuckles– you’re fine.”

Blinking hard you looked around and immediately recognized the street peeking from the end of the alleyway, your old apartment was 20 minutes from this place, you started moving without him.

Your neck snapped back as he took your arm, forcing you still.

“The restaurant is that way.”

He held your arm so tight your fingers tingle from numbness, interlocking elbows as he forced you into the street, to passerbys you were just another nameless couple, nobody gave you guys a second look, the afternoon light was beginning to fade behind tall buildings, you look at strangers pleading for them to notice something was off only to meet discomfort and indifference, people minded their business and in the busy street you two failed to stand out, you knew every street and in your silence you hoped to see familiar faces but nothing but strangers surrounded you both.

Both stopping at the entrance of a chinese restaurant, you’re sure you’d ordered from here before, the place is loud and there’s a TV set on the sports channel, it smells of fried rice and oil and you can hear the cook shouting in cantonese, he never lets you speak and the waitress is too busy talking to her coworker to care just telling you to sit anywhere you like.

He sits you in a booth on the corner away from the window almost hidden but able to see a good chunk of the people, the tv plays in the back but you can’t see it, your face is obscured by a beam, the more you look at the decour it strikes you as cheap and busy, lights dim and there wasn’t many people inside no doubt he picked this place for a reason.

“I feel like egg rolls and sweet and sour pork… you want noodles or rice?”

“Rice… with chicken… and…” You glance at the menu– scallion pancakes…”

Time moves like a dream, you count the exits, the number of waitresses, you hear the phone used for take-out orders but from your spot you can’t see the phone, you see the paper sign saying ‘toilet’ which could lead to an unseen exit, maybe into the kitchen, but as the entree arrived you knew you couldn’t run to your old home, you could run to the nearest metro station take the train anywhere, the direction made no difference you just had to find a cop… anything to save you.

As you force yourself to chew it dawns on you how Homelander has not spoken, turning to see him and he has a dry smile in his lips, his sight focused on the table on the furthest end of the room, the party grew louder you assumed they caught his attention annoyed by their presence or something in that vein.

Dishware clank and people spoke and baseball played but his attention was on them alone, you swore you could’ve run and he wouldn’t notice.

“Are you okay?” You spoke with the meekest tone you could muster– is there something wrong with the food?”

He scoots in his seat moving closer to the edge of table, this boot could’ve sat a party of five with ease so he left you with a lot of space and for a moment you felt as if he was about to just walk out but instead he looked at the empty spot then jerked his head towards the direction of the party.

“Is there a friend of yours there…?” You try to remain bubbly, finding his demeanor uneasy.

Following him you take his former spot but he doesn’t leave the boot, and then you see it.

The big thing he was staring at.

She was so thin that it looked bigger than it should, she was a tiny frail thing and the bump protruded out of her stomach violently. She sat back down, her grin so big and her laugh so chirpy as she rejoined the group.

The group too engrossed in each other to notice… to notice the crying woman on the other side of the dimly lit restaurant.

He seemed the same, his hair was the same, his beard was the same, his shirt was the one you bought him last christmas and he looked… happy… happy as he kissed this woman you’ve never seen, holding her hand, caressing her stomach, she didn’t need a name for you to despise what she meant, there it was your ex-husband who shouted at you about not being ready to be a father, your ex who showed up late to the funeral and didn’t stick around to comfort you, who never made it to the hospital visits more than twice, here he was happy.

Looking at a young thing carrying the baby he did want.

Just like he never looked at you.

“Am so happy you’re having a little girl!” The older woman who sat across from him said– after everything that happened I'm just elated for you Eric.”

You heard your mother’s voice with so much clarity.

“After Y/N I never thought I would find somebody but I think she would’ve been happy for us. I’m just glad you guys are doing okay after everything…”

“It’s hard but you are still family and we can be happy for you and your sweet little girl”

You watched him comfort your mother, the way he talked about you as if he meant it.

When did he ever mean it? Did he find remorse in his heart after you were gone or was it to brush away the accusations.

‘Who would you run to?’ that voice in your head asked, your family was right there, your dad, your mom, a mutual friend of you both, your ex– they were all there but they didn’t see you, the more you focused on their words, the way they mentioned your name as if it made them feel icky.

“I was thinking of naming her after Y/N, I know she meant a lot to Eric and had we not met at that support group–

You ran off the booth, rushing to the bathroom, you’re sure somebody looked at you as the plates rattled, Homelander gave you a glance but didn’t follow you.

Slamming the door behind you, in that ugly cramped bathroom you screamed into your knees, every fiber of your body recoiled, tightening around your chest, you stayed there until your own sobs hurt your throat and your eyes itched from salt.

Staring at your swollen eyes and red nose you washed away what you could, nausea still lingered robbing you off your appetite.

The door opened and there was no red, white and blue suited supe, just a hall with faded pictures and a storage closet, walking not knowing what to find, not wanting to be seen.

He was still in the booth, happily waiting on you with a bag of leftovers propped on the table.

“Let’s go home…” You whispered, your throat hoarse.

“Home? Where is that?” he grins

“Home… take me home… please…”

He stares at the party who are now sharing their final drinks and readying to leave.

You sit on the edge pushing him into the booth, forcing him to pay attention to you and not those behind, maybe it was because he was Homelander that you kissed him, that you had the attention of a more enviable man than Eric ever was that you kissed him in front of him and your family, maybe it was because it felt good, his thin lips soft and delicate against yours, it was quick thing, his shock was palpable in the nervousness of his kiss was cute, but it felt good… for once something felt good again.

“Let’s go Homelander… I don’t wanna be here anymore…”

His lips pressed against your cheek before lifting himself, making sure to cover your sight as you both left the building turning away from the window as the party began to gather their things, he stopped for a second after walking for a few minutes.

“I just need to text Ashley something before I forget… work stuff” You didn’t care.

He typed slowly with his index instead of his thumbs which made you cringe a little.

“All good. You sure you don’t wanna go watch a gig, we don’t have to go back home.” He said softly.

“My tits hurt.” His eyes light up at the lie– unless you wanna have a sippy in the toilets before the show stars to help me out here”

“... I… I do…”

If he blushed any harder he’d be a stop light, you smiled unable to stop chuckling at his stupid face.

“Didn’t peg you for the kind of guy to get freaky in the bathroom of a dingy bar… guess America’s son does have a real kinky side to him.”

“You have no idea darling… do you have a kinky side perhaps?”

“Fuck me.” Her stomach popped into your head, his hand caressing her bulge played on loop, his disgusting smile, all of him played all around you, memories of his touch burnt your skin, everybody had his disgusting mug on their faces– and find out.”

He took your hand and started walking faster, throwing away the bag of takeout into the lap of the first homeless person he’d seen.

The woman looked at Eric as he said goodbye to your parents, her phone buzzed, turning around to hide her screen, a text message from with a receipt for 25,000 dollars deposited on her account, as well as a doctor’s appointment booking.

She signed with relief.

“Understood.” she texted back.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x fem!reader #homelander x you #personal #my fic tag #the boys amazon #extra long segment to make up for the prior delay and the one coming #not proofread cuz am a dog wearing man's skin

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speakofthedebbie · 4 months ago

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by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fic #radioapple #radioapple fic #radioapple fic recs #fic: bedtime rituals #fic: managerial liberties #not sure how to tag the rest cuz i feel like theyre song lyrics #of saints and sinners #osas #freely we serve #a family forged in hellfire #the red thread that binds us #somewhere down the line #debs is a yapper #debs is an original poster

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brailsthesmolgurl · 6 months ago

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“Wake up”

Preview: How the boys usually wake up, either on their own or with you by their side.

Zayne

“What time would you like to meet tomorrow?” He is the type to set only ONE alarm the night before. Even if he has less than 8 hours of sleep, he would still get out from bed the moment the alarm rings. He is a very disciplined man given his profession and he is probably used to working 24 hour shifts during hospital overload seasons. When staying alone, Zayne is very much the early bird. He likes to wake up an hour early prior to get ready for any plans he has for the rest of the day. Even on the days when he is not required to be at the hospital, he would much prefer waking up to his daily dose of Vitamin D and enjoying the breaths of fresh morning air. A little light workout in the morning never hurts for this doctor to keep himself in shape as well.

When he is with you, he might laze in a little more. “It’s alright, you should rest more.” He would say something along these lines, running his large palms from the top of your head and down your back, soothing your warm skin with his icy touch. He enjoys waking up earlier than you sometimes and just watch your undulating breaths as you dreamed. If he is lucky, he might catch you sleeptalking and might record your voice on his phone so he could ask you what you were dreaming of just a while ago. He would never wake you up against your will. A little twist of your lips or a little frown would get him to back off immediately, not wanting to ruin such a peaceful moment of yours when for most of the days, he can only get to deal with your hyped personality. “Sweet dreams my angel.”

Xavier

Never really the one to be waking up from his dreamscape. When he is within the solidarity of his own home, he would sleep whenever he pleases. Morning or night, daylight or moonlight, he does not care. He can practically sleep anywhere; sleeping while reading at his balcony, sleeping right next to his dirty dish after he had finished eating on the countertop, sleeping right when he is about to finish his business on the loo. The possibilities of waking him up are endless as Xavier is such a sleepy boy. Funnily enough, he has a guilty pleasure for his sleeping routine on those sleepless nights. He will never admit to the fact he enjoys listening to Mukbang ASMR until his YouTube search history reveals otherwise.

However, if you happen to be with him, no doubt you are going to be the early bird. Dazed, you would watch him sleep sometimes and realise that even when he was asleep, he twitches ever so often and it made you wonder was it because his battle with the wanderer was so tough that it got re-enacted in his dreams as well. But if you tend to wake up, prepare for a lot of lounging around and “I just need a bit more sleep” but with him still ending up dead asleep after a minute. You can shake him, rattle him, shout at him or utilise any other methods, but this boy would wake up for a glance and drift off again if he wishes to. On days with activities planned out, he will always be timely, but the amount of time he takes to get ready will always remain a mystery to you because sometimes it would be as short as 5 minutes and he is ready to go. Perhaps, another time would take more than an hour because he ended up falling asleep while standing in the shower. “You should stop trying to wake me.”

Rafayel

He is the king of setting alarms for every one minute. This simultaneous alarm situation only applies if he has plans with you. But if it’s for his art exhibitions, or any other activities that does not include you, be prepared to have Thomas charging into his room to drag him out of bed. Rafayel has a specific ringtone set just for you so in case you call him anytime in the night, or while he was quick asleep, he would wake up in an instant to reply you. The ringtone of his is definitely applied to his alarm tone as well because let’s be honest, only you are able to get Rafayel to plan his day with you and for you. Rafayel himself is a light sleeper but on certain situations when he burns the midnight oil for his work, he will give himself the leeway to relax within the embrace of his soft bed.

Being with you would be somewhat different. He might wake up earlier than you sometimes or he might laze in bed later than you sometimes. It depends entirely on his mood or the occasion for the day. “Don’t rush me, the date has to be perfect so of course I am going to take my time in getting ready.” If the both of you have plans, he would weigh the amount of activity and type of activity throughout the day to decide on whether he wakes up 20 minutes prior or 2 hours prior. 20 minutes prior include him having to take his morning shower, brush and blow dry his hair and to change his clothes. While the 2 hours routine involves him soaking himself in a warm bath, styling his hair, shaving his baby-like face, planning his outfit and maybe just having enough time to prepare breakfast in bed for you if you are staying over for the night. “Good morning my love. I made breakfast for you because I kept hearing you muttering eggs in your sleep last night. I made the scrambled the way you like it!”

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softspace-fics · 3 months ago

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Lost pt.3

⚠️ THIS IS NOT A AGE-RE POST. THIS IS A DARK POST. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION, DONT READ IF WARNINGS TRIGGER YOU⚠️

Masterlist - All my work!

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Mentions of violence blood, sewing skin, passing out, being lost with no contact, mature language (cussing), Steve and bucky being worried over reader, reader is mentioned to be a victim of hydra, Reader does not know or remember bucky or Steve in this part! This is mainly backstory to explain reader!! please let me know if I missed any!!

________________

As the next missions continue to come, the murder, the crime, the fraying of your brain, the pain, the burning, the destroying of the sweet person you used to be continued on as well. They forced you to only remember the metal armed man as a traitor and a nuisance to your work. You continued your pattern of jobs for a few more weeks until the day came, where your mission got compromised, the day you were supposedly “saved” from the terror and the experiments.

You slide down the side of the building, bracing yourself for impact while repeatedly hitting your abort button, the button that was supposed to get you safely back into your handler's possession, apparently, they lied.

The moment you pressed that button you were on your own, you were no longer their responsibility. They didn’t care if you died or lived.

Why weren’t they coming?

After everything you had done for them,

They. Weren’t. Coming.

You flew off of sight from your eventually to be boyfriends, and you start to shake as you somehow escape downtown, trying to keep off the radar.

To help you try and keep away from those chasing you down, you sneak in and out of a thrift shop, raiding the clothes that you could find to be able to hide yourself.

You carefully break into a apartment that used to be a place for soldiers under hydra to stake-out, but had turned into a ghost town after they changed locations. Sitting in the bathroom after finding old sewing supplies, you slowly piece your flesh back together after being grazed and hit with a few shots.

When you would get harmed after missions, you never received medical attention unless it was to fix something massive like the time 3 of your fingers went missing. Other than that they threw sewing supplies at you and you had to figure it out.

After 4 hours of doing your best to sew yourself up, you clammer to the corner of the bedroom and under the side table. You position yourself where you cant be seen but you can easily hear if someone enters the apartment. If someone as much as makes a move 4 streets over you’ll know.

You were pumped with similar serum as to your metal armed traitor of a partner. Your senses were so heightened that sleeping was the worst thing to have to do but even after all those training sessions and all of those experiments, you were still somewhat human.

You spend a few hours getting a minimal amount of sleep before you end up waking up and climbing out from under the table. You’re so used to being in a cage that you feel almost concerned being able to now walk freely among other people. How were you not being locked up and trapped again?

Why was life doing everything in its power to trap you in a place between hell and eternal living of the damned? You mindfully check every window, closing the blinds and making sure its completely sealed shut before you move on to the doors, vents, and anywhere else someone could hear you or try and make a move on you.

You search for food in the kitchen, but to no avail. When the place was left behind after hydra expanded, they totally ransacked the place. That means you’d have to go out for food.

As you leave to go and try and find food, you try to mimic everything around you, how people walk, the way their arms move, how they look at others, you were analyzing everything to try and fit in to survive. You just needed food and then you could go stake out back at the apartment.

When you get to a fresh food market, you walk in and steal whatever you could afford to slide by people before quietly sneaking out the back and getting back to your apartment the same way you originally went.

You do your best to live this way for weeks. you never go out, you never are seen anywhere that wast necessary. When you do have to go out whether it be for food or anything important to you, you do it as fast and efficiently as possible. You’re always checking over your shoulder.

As the weeks continue on, your confusion starts to bloom as memories of how you were before being held by your leaders, eventually floods into your mind, one by one ripping a piece of you apart.

The pain of seeing faces of people in your brain that you just can't put a name to, or a place, or anything. Who were they? Why did you feel like you should know them? Why know was it only resurfacing? Were you supposed to know them?

The nightmares begin as you attempt to sleep through countless nights, you remember how every surgery they did felt, the way the serum felt when they would inject numerous variants of it into your blood before shoving you either back into the cryostasis chamber or put back in your cell.

Memories begin to flood your mind at all times of the day, the countless faces you faced before they tried to make you suffer. The many scientists who experimented on you to turn you into the monster that was only just a pet. With the amount of pain and suffering your body went through, you weren’t sure the memories were even yours. The sensors to all of your memories were so frayed and broken that you couldn’t remember them until your body made you borderline live through them again.

There was a time you remembered a family, 2 boys, a mother, and a father. Was that your family? Did you ever have one?

You think about ending it numerous times, you feel pain every time you move, every time you breathe. The scars you stare at for hours, just wondering when did you start to look like you had been touched by the devil himself? You felt nothing but pain and aching pulsing through your veins.

Was this going to drive you to the end?

_____________

Part 4?

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linkspooky · 1 year ago

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hi Spooky! I just read your meta about Gojo's motivation in the fight and you brought up interesting points.

I thought Gojo was fighting in a way that he's trying to save Megumi, because if Gojo is really trying to eliminate Sukuna for good he would go for the most fatal blow, the brain, he knows that Sukuna can still come back even without heart (lungs and liver)... so I thought Gojo is probably trying to weaken Sukuna to "make room" for Megumi. Even if his facade is "carefree", at first he already warned Sukuna that he won't hold back, he seemed worried when he realized that Megumi is the one that got hit by UV. But now I'm worried about his character growth, is it like he's decreasing? or at least he's not showing something better than the Gojo who killed Toji - teen Gojo; what happened to the Gojo that claims to protect his students' youth and who is supposed to be the "good guy" in this fight...

I still think Gojo is fighting with the belief he can revive Megumi after he takes down Sukuna, but I agree with you anon his attitude towards the fight shows his lack of growth after Toji. Not only does Gojo reference Toji a couple of times like the battle is still fresh on his mind but his emotional state resembles the way he was when he fought Toji post-awakening as the "strongest." It wasn't just a happy-go-lucky facade at that point Gojo stated in his internal narration he wasn't fighting to avenge Riko: it really was just about defeating Toji and using his newfound power to reach his full potential.

It's understandable Gojo reacted that way in the moment though. He's seventeen, and it's probably alienating to have that much power thrust on your shoulders at seventeen. However, Gojo shows a clear lack of progress since that battle. Eleven years have passed since the battle with Toji, and Gojo's kind of trapped there mentally. He's still fighting for the same reasons he fought against Toji. Those lines could be applied to how he feels via Sukuna's possession of Megumi.

"Right now I'm not angry for you. Nor do I feel vengeful toward anyone. Right now, it's just that everything feels right."

Word of god supports this: Gege was asked directly if Gojo matured after the battle with Toji, and Gege explained instead of maturing he left the decision making up to Geto.

This is pretty consistent with Gojo and Geto's foiling with one another. Geto tends to be a deeply self-reflective character almost to a fault. While I'd argue that while Gojo is known by the fandom as the more selfish one, he is oddly someone who doesn't self reflect at all.

We know far more about Geto's internal world and how he sees things because of his internal narration. Honestly, if you compare the short time he's a focus character in Hidden Inventory to the entire rest of the manga Gojo receives a lot less internal dialogue. When Gojo does have internal narration it's almost always just him strategizing for a fight. He doesn't have the same richly developed internal world that Geto has because he doesn't really think or reflect on those things. When he does give insight to himself and his belief it's almost always himself talking aloud to other people.

Which neatly dovetails into my next topic re: Gojo's tendency to mask his true emotions under a light-hearted facade. I think it's inarguable he does that, Gojo was acting happy-go-lucky in front of his students about five minutes after killing Geto. Geto commented in the beach scene in Okinawa that Gojo goofing around on the beach was his way of being considerate to Amanai, and that while pretending to be carefree he'd been exhausting himself keeping the limiitless active for days not even sleeping. Gojo even downplays the burden of that in front of Geto, the one person he allows himself to be vulernable with.

However, I don't think Gojo's tendency to mask his true emotions is because he's crying on the inside during his fight with Megumi and at some point he's going to have an emotional breakdown over it. That interpretation I think comes from the fandom's tendency to woobify Gojo because they want to make him a more relatable and easy to understand character when Gojo is supposed to be alienating and off-putting.

He's an exploration of what being the strongest would due to a person's mind, and how much that would alienate a person from the people around him. Gojo's defined by his inability to relate to others, especially the people he finds as weak so it only makes sense he'd process his emotions in a way that's different from most people.

If people learn and grow and change by their interaction with others, then Gojo who's very cursed technique itself makes it so nobody can ever touch him unless he wants them too does not interact with others and therefore does not change.

It's interesting if you look at things from a budhhist perspective, because there are heavy themes of budhism present in the text of JJK itself. Let's say that Gojo attained enlightenment at seventeen. If he's already enlightened then why would he need to grow any more past that point? The ultimate goal of budhism is to escape the cycle of karma entirely, so from that perspective Gojo untethering himself from the world and earthly concerns and other people is his ideal endpoint.

On the other hand Gojo is like a person living in the world - he eats takeout, goes out drinking with his friends, has a job, pays his taxes. He didn't escape life and worldly concerns, because life went on, he's still living in the world and eleven years has passed since the moment he "attained enlightenment."

If he's already enlightened then he shouldn't need to grow, but considering hes still living in the world you need to grow and change with the world and people around you otherwise you're going to be left behind.

From what we've seen in canon Gojo changed a little bit. His ideals changed in the fact he adopted Geto's sense of responsibility and judgement of good and evil. He also witnessed Geto's fall and lost his friendship which is clearly what influences his current beliefs on wanting to protect the childhood of sorcerers, and that there's something rotten about the Jujutsu Society surrounding him.

I don't mean to say that every change in Gojo's life comes from Geto, but rather Gojo's current sense of beliefs are based around what happened to him in his youth. He wants to protect children because his youth was ruined. If Geto never fell and became a curse user would Gojo see anything wrong with the current system worth rebelling over?

Put better in another better meta here.

Still, my point is that... Gojo simply never cared enough about things like ideology. [...] He tried to internalize Geto’s original values of protecting the weak since he could sense some merit to them, finding joy in entertaining Riko and later his students, but he completely missed the reasoning behind those values. This is why he spouted all those things about not saving/reaching Geto (without having attempted it in the first place) and about becoming a teacher to prevent young sorcerers from missing out on their youth (immediately going to indoctrinate young Megumi into their messed up system as a pretext of saving him from the Zenins. [...] The only way he can empathize with them is by remembering what he himself enjoyed in his youth, that being companionship with his bff and his growing power. And when some of them don’t show interest in that (like poor fucking Megumi) Gojo is simply not interested in exploring alternatives. To him, it’s not a question of ‘why’, it never was.

Gojo is extreemly self-oriented in all the good and bad that entails. Good because it makes him an extremely strong, and self confident individual that allows him to pursue those ideals (and his ideals are still pretty good) bad because he easily loses sight of other people's feelings.

A gojo who truly changed after the fight with Toji would have reached out to Megumi in an attempt to break the cycle that started with the Zen'ins abuse of TOji. A true example of being the bigger man by going out of his way to help the son of a man who in a lot of ways caused permanent damage to his life and the people around him.

However, that's blatantly not what Gojo did. Once again we have Word of God on this.

Gojo hasn't matured past his mindset of seeing people in terms of "strong and weak" and as a natural extension of that he tends to treat the same kids he's trying to help as assets so he's not living up to his desire to be the responsible adult in their lives. Because he's not really an adult. His growth stopped in the fight with Toji.

Gojo's solution to the problem of Jujutsu Society's use of child soldiers and treating children as expendable is... to create stronger child soldiers. I don't think Gojo does this maliciously, it's just he has no self-awareness whatsoever. He is Jujutsu Society's ideal and constantly praised as such and because of that can't see the flaws in his own ideology and actions. That's also the way Gojo was raised, pushed to be the strongest and to build his entire life and self-worth around being the strongest he can be. People who lack self-awareness tend to unsconiously recreate the circumstances under which they were raised because it's familiar to them. Do unto others what was done unto you.

To return to my original topic though Gojo has a tendency to make his true emotions but I don't think it's done because he's secretly crying on the inside.

I think Gojo's complete lack of reaction to Nanami's death was his genuine reaction. He's not putting on a brave face or anything. He probably does care that Nanami died, but this is just how Gojo processes his emotions. I also think there's a couple of times where Gojo is disturbed during the fight against Megumi such as when Sukuna used Megumi as a shield for the limitless, but at the same time he's clearly having the time of his life with this fight.

I don't think he's faking that. He shouldn't really be enjoying this battle because there are simply more important things right now than whether or not Gojo finally gets to have fun in a fight and be challenged against someone who's his equal - but apparently Gojo didn't get that memo.

Gojo is probably masking his emotions to some extent, but there's a difference between text (what is stated) and subtext (what is not stated and instead relies on reader interpretation). Gojo visibly enjoying himself in the fight is direct text. Gojo announces out loud that he has no problem beating up Megumi, the narration tells us that Gojo is feeling deeply satisfied with this fight.

While characters do sometimes hide their feelings and lie, and narrators are sometimes reliable, subtext is still an interpretation and it doesn't trump what is directly stated by the work.

The text has already told us directly that number one Gojo doesn't feel any hesitation to fight Megumi, and number two Gojo's first priority is winning and his second priority is worrying about Megumi.

Anything that contradicts that is fandom interpretation of the text. I don't think Gege is trying to pull a fast one or unreliable narrator trick here. Gege has always been blatantly honest about Gojo's flaws as a character, hence why I constantly cite his responses in interviews.

I think it's Gege's intention here to show us how Gojo's priorities are eschewed. You can make an argument that Gojo has to worry about defeating Sukuna first above everything else because of utiliarian reasons. If he loses here then everyone else dies. He may have to sacrifice Megumi to stop Sukuna from killing anyone else.

However, those utilitarian reasons are in direct opposition to Gojo's ideals. Gojo wants to create a world where children aren't sacrificed for the common good. In Gojo's ideals chidlren shouldn't be sarificed for adults, but rather it's adults who should protect children so they can live out their youths. If Gojo fails to protect Megumi here he's going back on everything he supposedly stands for.

So while you can make an argument pragmatically Gojo has to worry about winning the fight first. Idealistically he should be fighting to save Megumi, not to win against Sukuna. However, he's not doing that. By having him care more about the fight itself then Megumi, it shows that Gojo's pragmatism often is in conflict with his own idealism. Which is something we've always known about his character. He wants to help kids but at the same time he's using them as tools to further his own agenda.

Again a lot of Gojo's flaws arise from his own lack of self-awareness. Gojo does conceal his own emotions a lot, but I don't think he's hiding a crying child inside. Instead it's more like he's so alienated from both the people around him and his own emotions that he can't process them or self reflect.

Gojo is blind in a lot of ways, like it's made clear by Shoko that Gojo's isolation doesn't just come from being the strongest. There are people around him actively trying to connect with him and Gojo just kind of ignores them because he's too caught up in the idea that only someone like Geto who was as strong as he was could ever understand him.

Gojo doesn't show his own emotions or make deep emotional connections with others because he probably doesn't understand those emotions himself. He's not only alienated himself from the people around him, but he's alienated himself from his own feelings to such an extent that even when he does care it's difficult for him to show it.

#jjk meta #metasks #gojo satoru

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21slurp-blog · 11 months ago

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ellie during finals Drabble 🍒💋🪩

ellie Williams x fem!reader

warnings - fingering (r!receiving), cum eating, pet names (baby, pretty girl), genuinely think that’s all but lmk if you spot any.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Mush. That’s what your brain was at this point. Literal mush. You’d re-read the same sentence about genetic mutations three times and nothing was going in. You huff in frustration and put your pen down, your hands meeting your temple to attempt to relieve some tension.

After five minutes of staring at the random smudge on your desk you can hear a knock at your door. With a groan you stand up to answer it, trudging with every step until you open the door.

“hi baby”. It was ellie. You feel all the stress drain from your body as you immediately wrap your arms around her, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. All she does it smile and place a gentle kiss to the top of you’re head.

Once you’ve dragged her inside and made her listen to your fifteen minute rant about how studying is useless and you want to drop out to become a runaway criminal she speaks a quiet - “i could…make you feel better”. The small smirk she has on her face as she says it makes wetness pool in your panties, looking up with a pouty gaze and a small nod.

“words. use em” she says sternly. You feel the heat burn your cheeks. “Need you to make me feel good ellie. Please”, and that she does.

She smirks and attacks your lips with her own, ringed fingers slivering under your shirt, gasping from the cold metal against your nipple. She rolls the sensitive pink bud between her fingers, making you squirm and your panties get impossible wetter. “Fuck- please Els no teasing, need you-“ you mumble. It’s almost pitiful.

Ellie decides not to tease you. You’re stressed and clearly you need this. The same cold hand travels down your stomach and slips into your sleep shorts, fingers slipping through your folds. “Fuuuck..so wet n’I’ve barely touched you yet”, you can only whimper in response. Her middle and ring fingers dive into you, curling up and hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time. You moan so hard you think you’ll lose your voice when Ellie’s thumb traces small circles on your clit.

She sucks and bites at your neck as she speeds up the pace, fingers plunging into you at an ungodly speed. “M’gonna- m’gonna cum Els-“ you babble, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Cum for me pretty girl”, and you do. Harder than you ever have.

She lets you ride out your high before slowly removing her fingers and shamelessly popping them in her mouth, sucking every inch of your slick off them. You giggle out of embarrassment and she kisses your head, leaving and returning shortly with a wet rag to clean you. You hiss at the cold feeling on your sensitive cunt and she coos praises “I know baby. You did so well for me..”. She puts a fresh pair of panties on you and brings your head to her chest, your eyes growing heavier and beaver. “Mm love you Els” you mumble tiredly.

“Love you too baby”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

a/n - HOPE YOU LIKE IT AHHH

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #the last of us #tlou #ellie tlou #modern ellie

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lifeonthemurdersim · 28 days ago

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"Who kisses the other awake in the morning?"

"Neither. You wake up and he's staring at you."

Oh my god... Could you profundize this? I can't stop reading this, it's so... I am enthrilled. So, so enthrilled.

Thank you so much for this ask! To clarify for those reading, I gave the above answer when answering ship questions for Lawrence x Violet/Reader.

I started explaining further but then I recalled this was actually one of my unused ideas for my GoreKinktober series so I decided to revisit it as a short piece! I hope this gives the elaboration you were looking for! 😊

My Ecosystem Fandom/Universe: Boyfriend To Death Characters/Pairing: Lawrence Oleander x Reader (his POV) AO3 Link(full tags, warnings etc here) Word count: 1,203 words Synopsis: You're used to waking up to Lawrence watching you by now. What you're not so aware of, is why. Author's Note: This prompt is for the 24th but I'm posting on the 1st of November. More about Gorekinktober on my pinned post! Kinktober prompt(s) used: Somnophilia Goretober prompt used: N/A

Lawrence still isn't used to being this close to a living, breathing human for such a prolonged amount of time. It's a heady mix of overwhelming, being that there's just so much of you to take in, and so, so fascinating. A whole little ecosystem, in his bed, in his arms, that he wakes up to every evening.

He can see the vast expanse of beautiful skin cocooning you, enshrouding all those intriguing little organs; all buzzing away carrying out their functions as they're supposed to. Whatever encounter you once had with the river, it was obviously brief enough to leave you wonderfully untouched. You're not rotting like him, you're fresh, you're perfect.

Imagine if all that's inside of there was visible on the outside. It might not last for very long, but for that brief moment, where everything was still ticking but the whole of you was inside out, it would be glorious. He knew you better than anyone else he had ever encountered, so you wouldn't be another art piece discarded in a random stack nor hung clinically in an empty hall. He had passion for you, he loved you, if Lawrence made you art, you would be his masterpiece.

Although he supposed some part of him would like to see the inner workings of your mind, he'd have a little more time to see you functioning if he left your brain untouched. Actually, he thinks he would leave your face intact, too. He likes it exactly as it is, the shape, the features, especially soft when you're sleeping. Even a master artist couldn't improve upon it. Yes, he'd likely leave your entire head be, it's simply too pretty.

The rest though, he'd deconstruct with searing crimson lines, the first hint of the internal you emerging to the external. It would leave him in need of more. You'd need to be opened up all the way so you could be appreciated in every sense. He would slice deeper into your limbs, folding the muscle and sinew open neatly so see more of you, a larger surface area, but also the things that hadn't been seen before.

Then his focus would be your torso, he'd have to cut slowly so each organ was revealed bit by bit, he needed to savour every inch of you, every second of unwrapping you. The excessive length of your intestines would snake around your waist, forming elegant arcs swinging back and forth behind you like wings of an angel.

The liver has a nice texture when you cut into it, soft but with a little pushback. He could carve out slivers and hold them; they'd be like little brown slugs but ones that could never hurt his plants. He could rest them on your slumped shoulders like art. He could carve a firm L into it, a jagged O. His art needs a signature somewhere. The liver almost re-forms around the letters though. Maybe he would have to carve his initials into a few places on you, just to be sure.

The veins and arteries, though, he'd keep attached to your heart, only cutting where he had to. He'd arrange them like spokes, like a sunburst coming out from your chest, measuring the intervals carefully. If he presses a thumb to your wrist, he can feel them, throbbing gently with every beat of your heart. He brushes his hand up your arm slowly, gently, grazing your shoulder.

You shift slightly. Lawrence freezes up. But you don't stir, so he presses a hand to your chest. There it is. Pulsing under your shell. Imagine if those ribs could be cracked open, releasing the softly trilling little bird from its cage. How much firmer and louder would that beat be without those confines alone?

Better still, what if he could reach out and wrap his hand around it, really feel it? Would it be the slow steady beat it sits at while you dream away, or would the actions taken to lead him there render it to a dizzying pace? Would it become too much, too overwhelming? Would he have to squeeze it hard to get it to stop?

Or...

Would it already have fallen silent before he even got that far?

Never to be heard again.

Not just your heartbeat, either. Your soft assurances when he was spiralling. The pitter-patter of your footsteps as you tended to his plants. Your soft moans and whimpers when he was pleasuring you. The charming little rhythm of your laugh. Your loving words. Your voice in general.

Yes, at times just having another person around him was a lot for Lawrence. But having to live without this one specific person he'd become so attached to would be downright unbearable.

The silence would be overwhelming.

You were the only one who'd seen the river, the only one who really understood. This world wasn't real, but he was forced to exist in it until he allowed his body to decay entirely. But having you around made it bearable. More than bearable.

Good.

He absolutely wanted to do it. He wanted you to be his work of art, his best work. But there was too much to risk, so he couldn't. He wouldn't. But sometimes, he really really wants to. He leans a little closer to you, hoping that will stave off the urge, only for your eyes to blink open. You both jump a little. The thumping of your heart under his hand quickens.

"L-Lawrence!" you stutter out, then exhale to try to calm, he feels it in your chest. "I... never get used to you doing that..."

"Oh..." he replies. "...sorry?" He's not sure if he is sorry, but it feels like maybe he's worried you, so he's supposed to say it.

"It's... OK I guess..." you tell him, softening into the hand at your chest a little. You raise both brows at him. "Did watching me sleep... turn you on?" you ask, looking him up and down.

Lawrence looks at you with confusion at first, but then he allows himself to step out of his detached thoughts and actually feel his body. His cheeks are warm; blushing most likely, all his skin is heated and prickling. His heart is racing faster just like yours, but it's not just from you making each other jump, his breathing is deeper than usual. Probably the most evident part to you, there's a very evident bulge in his sweatpants. While he was busy disassociating into fantasies of tearing you open, his body was flooding with arousal.

"Yeah..." he admits a little breathily. "I... guess it did." A slight smile graces your lips. You come closer, the kind that verges on overwhelming, but right now he wants it, your proximity, your touch. You roll him softly onto his back, straddling him.

"It's a good job I woke up then, isn't it?" you ask suggestively as you push his hair back, smiling down at him.

Lawrence thinks of his imagined you, lying bleeding and wide open and lifeless in his mind. Then he looks at the real you, flushed and adoring and very much alive on top of him.

"Yes." he agrees, smiling back. "It really is..."

#lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death 2 #btd2 #btd #boyfriend to death #murder sim #gorekinktober 2024 #loms fic tag #asks #thank you for the ask!#hopefully the fact i wrote a whole fic shows how much i appreciate asks like this hehe

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karespocketboyfriends · 4 months ago

Text

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> Humour, mentions of murder, Sylus getting his ass slapped, gets the tiniest bit suggestive at the end, situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

I’m going to die today.

I can picture my final resting place now; a six foot hole in the ground with fresh dirt on top, a bouquet of my favourite flowers and a tombstone that reads:

‘Here lies Evie. Dead because she was dared to slap the boss of Onychinus’ ass.’

If I had more time, I would have studied black magic to make sure Luke and Kieran go out with me. But I don’t have more time, not when the re-release of one of my favourite smutty books is on the horizon with an exclusive and very limited cover.

Clearly, I value books more than my own life.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight.”

I jump at the voice, head snapping towards Sylus sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. One of several cars he owns. He isn’t looking at me, scarlet eyes fixated on the road ahead as he drives at the N109 Zone’s speed limit. In other words, faster than Linkon’s law actually allows.

“It’s nothing.” I deflect his observation as casually as I can manage. I turn my eyes to look out the front window, not wanting to risk making eye contact with him should he happen to glance at me, but also not wanting to turn away completely and raise suspicion. “I stayed up later then I should have, that’s all.”

Working for Onychinus has completely warped my sleep schedule. My patterns used to be that of a normal person, awake during the day and asleep at night, but now I’m active beneath both the sun and moon. Instead of sleeping straight through one cycle phase, I’ve learned to split my rest in two. Sunrise and sunset are my resting hours now, with daylight my free time and overnight my work hours.

Sylus hums, and the sound vibrates in my gut. I love hate the way it feels. “Reading again?”

I did fit in more reading time where I should have been asleep, but that wasn’t the cause of my hesitation to start a conversation. “Am I that predictable?”

“Painfully so.” He turns onto the street that leads to the base. “I am, after all, aware of your particular taste in novels.”

My face burns hot, much so that I cross my arms and dig my nails into my skin. “That isn’t the only genre I read. I keep more tame stuff at home.”

He snickers. “I’m sure.”

Minutes later, we arrive. I follow half a step behind Sylus as we navigate the base, the both of us headed in the same direction. My office is in his personal wing, where it has been since I got hired a year and a half ago. To this day, I still haven’t been able to get a clear answer as to why he put me so close to him. On a professional level it makes sense, being his personal assistant and all, but given the nature of his work… it seems odd to place an absolute stranger right outside your door.

Though, I’m not exactly much of a threat. I doubt a man like Sylus sees much harm in a woman whose only weapon is a pencil with a pointy end.

“Take the rest of the night off.” Sylus breaks the silence as we turn down the hallway leading to his wing.

Stunned, I come to a stop. Sylus carries on without looking back, his footsteps alone echoing off the walls. He gets a several strides ahead before I’m jogging to catch up. “But, the notes from the meeting today need to be-”

He grabs the handle of the door that leads to his private quarters, and he finally turns his head to look down at me. Not in the sense that I’m below him, but literally has to look down. “If you’re too tired to interrupt my peace and quiet the way you normally do, then you’re useless tonight.”

I huff and cross my arms. “You make me sound like someone who never shuts up.”

One corner of his mouth curls up. “Are you not aware of how noisy you are, kitten? That’s an order.”

I clamp my mouth shut to keep any witty remarks inside. Sylus waits a moment, and when he’s satisfied that I won’t argue, turns the handle and pushes open the door.

That’s when I realize that if I don’t strike now, I’ll never have a chance to do so again. The boss’ guard is down, the hallway is empty, and several escape routes are available.

Should I go light? No, better to stun him and buy myself several seconds of precious time.

Sylus makes it half a stride through the door before my hand connects with his ass, the resounding slap like a grenade in the silence.

Then I’m flying back the way we came, fleeing for my life and the exclusive book cover I’m so desperate to get my hands on. “Sorry, Sir!”

I whip around the corner, going so fast I almost crash right into Luke and Kieran. They jump to the side, pressing their backs against opposite walls and clearing the way for me to get by.

Luke cackles beneath his crow mask. “Where’s the fire, Evie?”

“I better get a signed copy, you doorknobs!”

I’m racing around the next corner seconds before their howling laughter turns into strangled yelps. My heart sinks. He’s catching up, and he’s catching up fast.

I throw myself into the closest supply closet without thinking, barricading the door with a gun rack and ducking behind a shelf of random things that I make a mental note to sort through at some point in the future. Assuming I even live to see the future.

I throw my hands over my nose and mouth to muffle my breathing when footsteps draw near. I stare through a gap between the shelves, watching the light beneath the door. A prayer my grandmother used to recite comes to mind as footsteps drew near, two points of shadow obstructing the light.

The footsteps fall silent. Neither of the shadows move.

‘Please no, please no, please no, please no, please no.’

The shadows move and the footsteps start again, the sound becoming distant until they disappear completely.

Dropping my hands, I let out the quietest sigh of relief I can manage. I’m not brave enough to risk sneaking out now, not when Sylus is still on the prowl. I’ll stay hidden in here until sunrise if I have to.

Getting comfy on the floor, I fish my phone from my back pocket. The clock reads 11:48 PM.

‘I won.’

Three hours go by. Pain attacks my spine when I finally straighten myself out, fingers numb from holding my phone and battery percentage in the red zone. I started and finished an entire book on my reading app in the time I’ve been hiding here.

No one has passed by the closet since I first jumped in here. If it was Sylus who briefly stopped outside the door, he hasn’t come back yet. Either he was still lingering somewhere in the base, or he stepped out.

Waiting till sunrise to make an escape no longer feels doable. Not if I still want to have any kind of feeling in my body.

Tucking my phone away, I uncross my legs and bite back a cry at the pins and needles feeling that shoots up them. I mentally curse out Luke and Kieran as I grit my teeth through the attack. It feels like forever before the numbness finally fades and I can stand without feeling like my legs are going to give out from under me.

The stupid wheels on the gun rack screech obnoxiously as I push it aside. Then the hinges on the door shriek as I slowly crack the closet open. Both ends of the hallway are clear, and a quick glance at the ceiling doesn’t reveal any sign of Mephisto.

I’m clear. Hopefully. I get going before that changes.

I make it halfway down the hall when something drifting from the ceiling catches my attention. It’s a black feather, and it sets my internal alarm off and has me making another scan for the mechanical crow. I still don’t see him.

The feather floats down in front of me, and my curiosity wins. My hand seems to reach out all on its own to grab it. The second my fingers brush against the soft feather, it disintegrates into black and red mist.

‘Oh fu-’

My wrist is suddenly caught in an iron grip, a pair of crimson eyes narrow, tempting lips set in a firm line. I don’t even think to run.

Instead, I blink up at him. “Hello, Sir.”

“Evie.” My name is flat on his tongue.

“About earlier,” I put on the most innocent smile in my arsenal. “It was Luke and Kieran’s idea. Punish them, not me.”

“Oh, they’ve already received what they’re owed.” He pulls my wrist until I bump into his chest. “Now, what do you think you’re owed for that little surprise?”

“Forgiveness?” Noticing the thin chain on his collar was undone, I fix it for him. “You know, Sir, I think it would be good for you to practice leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past. A handsome face like yours should eliminate as many causes of stress as possible to prevent faster aging.”

He raises a brow, not at all looking convinced. “Is that how it works?”

I nod. “There has been research done. If you let me live, I can have a full report on your desk by tomorrow night.”

Sylus hums as if considering it. Then, miraculously, he lets me go. “Leave yesterday’s grudges in the past, is it? Perhaps you’re right.” He turns to the side and lifts an arm as if to say ‘go ahead’. “Enjoy the rest of your night off, Evie.”

‘I’m so dead.’

I don’t turn my back to him. In fact, I walk backwards while holding eye contact with him, the amused smile on his face a mask for something more lethal. It’s only when I’m forced to turn a corner that I let him out of my sight.

My steps and quick and paranoid, the base seeming to stretch on endlessly before I finally make it to the exit. Then I actually make it outside, the full moon and cool air welcoming me in celebration of my survival.

“Huh.” I cross my arms and pinch my chin between my thumb and index finger. “I can’t believe I actually got away with-”

Something slaps against my ass with a swift, sharp strike. I jump in surprise, a startled yelp forcing itself free from my throat. Eyes wide, I whirl around to find Sylus smirking down at me with one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

“Sir!” I exclaim, rubbing the spot he hit. It was tingling, though I can’t say if it’s from the slap or the knowledge that it was him who touched me. “What happened to leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past?!”

“You’re so naive, kitten. For a man who is more active at night, ‘yesterday’ is still today.” He closes the distance between us and leans down until his lips are at my ear. “Pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll bind your wrists until you’re begging me to set you free. Do you understand?”

My breath hitches. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He nips my earlobe before pulling away. “The driver will take you home.”

Even after he disappears back inside, I’m still staring at the door, my heart hammering and cheeks burning. Is a book cover really worth what I put myself through tonight?

My phone buzzed with a message. It’s from Kieran, showing proof that they held up their end of the bargain. Not only did they get their hands on the exclusive cover, but they got it signed.

‘Totally worth it.’

SFW Masterlist

Tag List:

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

#love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #lnds #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #x oc

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worldstarz · 4 months ago

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writing prompt #1: shinjiro aragaki

prompt: give one character a phobia and put them in a situation where they have to face it while in the company of the other.

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x gn!reader

tags: cw for centipedes; not proofread and i will never proofread this; maybe ooc

a/n: hi chat i am in my crashout era bc i’ve been having a writers block so everything i churn out is kinda shit quality! the prompt generator did not help! but maybe this will aid my fellow shinjiro fans in your daydreams. i always say i will proofread but i cannot ever re-read my own writing without fighting the urge to delete it so this will stay ass. also i picked centipedes bc i fucking hate them and i know they’re hella common in mainland japan. i’m from southern jp though so i’ve only ever had to encounter geckos and giant spiders. maybe writing abt him pregnant will cure my writer’s block idk.

“i need you to come to my room.”

“…what?” you mumble, fresh out of sleep, your thoughts still hazy. it was about 8am on a sunday—the only day you could sleep in—and yet your sleep was disturbed by your boyfriend, shinjiro. you mean this out of love, of course.

“come to my room. now.”

“at least say please,” you yawn, groggily sitting up. “what’s wrong? do you just miss me or somethin-“

“no.” his response was curt. “i just need you to come to my room. please. i’ll explain once you’re here.”

well, you certainly didn’t appreciate his attitude, but you know he didn’t mean it. it’s very difficult for him to properly articulate his emotions, but you’re willing to meet him halfway. “i get it, it’s hard for you to ask for cuddling, but-“

“i-it’s not that!” though he does sound flustered, you can still sense an underlying panic in his voice. “it’s… well… something is in here-“

“a shadow?” you cut him off. shadows only happen during the dark hour, but is it possible for one to show up outside of-

“no,” he says, his voice slightly above a murmur. you can barely hear him through the phone. “it’s a centipede.”

“…a centipede?”

silence.

“shinjiro, are you scared of centipedes?”

“…i’m not scared. i just would prefer to, um, not be around one. i guess.”

it’s hard to hold back a laugh. “that’s so cute! i never would’ve expected that from you!”

“just shut up and come over here!” he grunts, and you hear something clattering over. “it’s moving, holy shit, it’s moving-“

“okay, okay, i’ll be over in a second! i just have one condition; you have to give me a kiss.” it’s the least he could do for waking you up so early!

“fine, i’ll kiss you and whatever, just hurry up!”

you laugh, hanging up. not wanting to undermine his fears too much, you swiftly slip on some slippers and dash downstairs to his room, ignoring aigis in the lounge saying something about how according to her records, you are not usually in the hallway this early.

well, if you’re getting a kiss from shinjiro, who cares about the time?

twisting the handle, you swing open the door gently. shinjiro, still in his pajamas of a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, has his back is pressed against the wall opposite to the door, eyes wide and staring at the space to your right. his desk chair is knocked over on its side, likely the clattering sound you heard over the phone earlier. your eyes follow the target of his gaze, seeing the little creature with an uncomfortable amount of tiny legs right beside you.

“oh, it’s pretty small.” usually, you would opt for a cup and a piece of paper to trap the centipede and bring it outside to freedom, but with how dire the situation is, you have no choice but to abandon the pacifist route.

taking a slipper off, you utilize the footwear as a weapon to quickly smack the centipede. lifeless, it falls to the floor. picking it up with a tissue and discarding it in a nearby trash can, you hope that in the afterlife, it understands that this was a necessary action to get a kiss from your brooding boyfriend.

finally closing the door, you put your slipper back on as you glare at shinjiro, who visibly relaxes now that his opponent is dead.

“now where’s my kiss?” with a hand on your hip, you wait for your prize. you deserve it after all of that hard work, right?

he sighs, acting annoyed, but you both know he would never deny you. his eyebrows furrow as he walks over to you, muttering, “you’re such a moron.” to express his disdain, his hands naturally finds your waist as he presses his lips against your temple. “now we’re even.”

his eyes shift around a little. you look to see if there was possibly another centipede, but his reaction would be much more drastic if you did miss it. “shinjiro, what are you thinking about?”

“uh,” he hesitates, refusing to meet your eyes. “sorry for waking you up so early…i guess. and thanks.”

the corners of your mouth twitch, struggling to hide your amusement. “you know,” you lean against him, “i’m wayyy too tired to walk all the way back to my room. can i sleep with you for a little bit?”

he stiffens, then sighs reluctantly. “you’re such a pain in the ass.”

“oh? do you want me to leave then?”

swiftly, he swoops you off your feet, then gently sets you onto his bed. judging from the subtle raise of his eyebrows, he didn’t expect for that to be so smooth either. of course, you see right through him, laughing with your hands gripping his forearm.

“what’s so funny?” he quirks an eyebrow, slipping out of your grasp.

“you didn't even let me take my slippers off yet.” you kick them off your feet and begin to sit up to properly put them away, but he puts a hand on your chest to stop you. “lay down.”

who are you to deny his orders? like a gentleman, he lines them up properly at the door for you.

the bed dips as he situates himself beside you, making sure the blankets are covering you properly. like a magnet, you attach to his side, your arm wrapped around him and ear pressed against his chest. his heart beats rapidly in response. usually, you would pick on him, but he’s been through enough so early in the morning.

“you’re such a gentleman,” you tease, adjusting your body against him for maximum comfort.

“and you’re such a weirdo.” his heartbeat quickens again as his body vibrates beneath your ear with his gruff voice. “just hurry up and go to sleep.”

hopefully, the centipede’s spirit knows its sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

#rip centipede #shinjiro aragaki #persona 3 #persona 3 reload #shinjiro aragaki x reader #shinjiro aragaki headcanon #persona 3 shinjiro #p3 shinjiro #crashout era #anyway who wants shinjiro mpreg

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

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title: Feyre's Birthday ship: Feysand (+Nyx) type: fluffy drabble re-upload: thank you so much @reverie-tales for pointing out this very silly mistake - lesson learned: recycling old parts of stories without properly proof-reading is not smart...

The Riverside estate is covered in snow, little flakes dancing around, as Rhys and Nyx set out on a sweet yet very important mission. It's her special day – it's Feyre's birthday and Winter Solstice, and they have a wonderful surprise planned before the whole family arrives.

The air drifting in through the partly open window is fresh, and it smells like a wonderful winter day while inside the smell of freshly baked bread, eggs, and fruits wafts through the kitchen.

Rhys carries the tray, always careful to not spill anything, when they ascend the staircase. Nyx is holding onto the leg of his pants, his small fingers curled around the fabric, expression eager. "Mummy will be so surprised!" Nyx expresses happily, his lovely child voice drifting to Rhys's ears and filling the High Lord with nothing but happiness.

Nyx's eyes sparkle with excitement, his tiny feet barely making a sound as they pad over the wooden floor. Feyre has probably already woken up, wondering where her mate is.

But in order to not ruin Nyx's happiness, Rhysand —mind-to-mind— let her know that she should stay in bed and act surprised later on (he did not give her the details of their mission).

When they reach the top of the staircase, their gazes land on the window across from them. Outside the sun is rising slowly, casting a warm, golden glow through the window.

As they approach the door, Rhysand dips his chin, smiling brightly. Little Nyx looks just like him, and whenever he looks at him and immense feeling of pride fills him. This little boy, their little child, is the kindest and loveliest soul he has ever met and he is his son.

"Ready?" Rhys asks.

Nyx nods eagerly. Without further ado, he opens the door and storms inside, all caution about being quite and careful is forgotten, when Nyx loudly expresses, "MUMMY!"

Feyre sits up in bed, the biggest grin possible spreading over her face. She reaches her arms out, making grabby hands a little Nyx who immediately runs to her, flops onto the bed, tiny wings flapping a little behind his shoulders.

"Happy Birthday!" he hollers, curling his little arms around the High Lady's neck. She cuddles him to her, kissing the top of his head many times, tears brimming her eyes. "Baby," she whispers, and lifts her gaze to meet Rhys'. His own eyes are glazed, and his lower lip trembles a little.

Feyre is truly the most beautiful female in the world, and that also with tousled, sleep obvious on her face and in the midst of many blankets and pillows. Her love for her family is palpable and makes Rhys' heart beat faster.

"Good morning, darling. And the happiest birthday to you, my mate," Rhysand says, his voice filled with love. He places the tray down, bends at the waist and kisses the top of Feyre's head. She relishes in his scent, his warmth and can only grin again. Tipping her head back, Rhysand's gentle fingers on her chin, he kisses her lips — short, quick, but nevertheless full of love.

Nyx settles onto her lap, Rhys climbs onto the bed as well. He hugs his mate and then lifts the tray onto his lap. They share their special birthday breakfast in bed, laughing, talking, and sharing stories about winter and Solstice.

Nyx proudly tells how he helped prepare everything, and Feyre can't help but admire the her little boy, and the beautiful and proud smile on Rhys' face.

Outside, the snowflakes continue to fall, covering the world in a sheet of glittery white.

"I love you two so much," Feyre expresses. Nyx, now lying sprawled across Feyre and Rhys' laps, kicks his feet in the air and giggles. "We love you, mummy."

Feyre's tears return — they're tears of pure happiness. She is so grateful for this life, this family, the happiness she is feeling. Inside the cozy bedroom, as snowflakes fall outside and they share happy smiles and laughs, they're once again reminded what love and family truly means.

~~~~~~~~ tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @a-frog-with-a-laptop

#feysand #feysand and nyx #feysand son #rhysand #feyre archeron #acotar #acosf

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speakofthedebbie · 4 months ago

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you (read: i) asked so you shall recieve: radioapple fic recs august 2024 update!!

the following are the ones from the last post w/some minor changes (think: misspellings and even more osas praising) (sorry for the re-tags!!):

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 4 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic. has the same vibe as bedtime rituals, but it is NOT a sequel

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

if youre even half the radioapple fanatic i am and havent read this, literally what are you doing?? i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, with some daily compliments sprinkled along the way, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i foam at the mouth every friday

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. lilith is particularly an asshole even tho we havent seen her yet (or maybe we have. idr, mightve chatted with al) also emily is there (fallen) and has a lil smth to do with als and liliths deal. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6-7 (rosies words) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s(30s?) au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and mimzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent off for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

new recs below!! ↓↓

Alastor and Lucifer do whatever the Hell this is (series) by Vagabond_Sloth (personally asked, no Tumblr, but they might make one 👀)

i know this is radioapple fic rec post but... *cough* Husk and Angel do a Romance for some soft huskerdust *cough* anyway- basically, a perplexing flower arrangement leads to a blossoming something between the resident radio demon and king of hell. seriously, its some good shit, and the author is really nice!

A Compliment A Day by @decembercamiecherries

spinning this around in my head at all times

basically, a classic "charlie makes al and luci compliment each other as a bonding excessive" but it does not disappoint (check out her other three radioapple fics too)

a lovely night (lalaland is that you??) and pancakes, small talk by @mirotic_chess (X Twitter account)

in a lovely night they do a lil dancey dancey and in pancakes, small talk luci makes some pancakes!!

Sin and Sentiment and Time On My Hands by demon_fawn (supposed Tumblr leads to a dead end)

oh my god future debs here and i am so fucking tired of doing these descriptions but. um. the plot for sin and sentiment def seems very interesting and time on my hands is an incomplete (but good!) attempt at radioapple week. hmm not sure if they still post bc the most recent update was july 12th

honestly just every radioapple fic by @otoshigo (i think ive read all but Forbidden Fruit of the Poisonous Tree)

if you look underneath the little island that is radioapple, on god otoshigo is one of the creators holding it up. all 19 (yes, 19. we eatin good tonight [excluding forbidden fruit]) of their radioapple fics are fantastic, buuut if i had to recommend anything specific: A Guide to the Care and Maintenance of the King of Hell (fuck count furfur!) and The Devil's Trip to the Big Apple

not to continue the trend, but basically anything by @thief-of-eggs (even the singular huskerdust) but personal recommendations: Trust and Hair Pets and Let Me Be Your Shelter (sickfics 🔛🔝)

idk if youll catch me doing the descriptions for these anymore shit was exhausting

tagging time!!!! (i want to end it all)

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jaywalkers · 5 months ago

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hi róisín, since ur in med, i was wondering : is aftg v medically accurate ?

hihi! i'll preface with that i'm not a med student, i'm a final year paramedic student, but i think my scope and areas of practice fit the antics the foxes get into in aftg enough to comment on it!

i won't talk on aftg's take on medications, antipsychotics or otherwise, because a lot of other lovely people who are far more educated on the topic have written about it! when it comes to aftg's treatment of injuries, though, i do have some things to say.

i'm going to tee up a couple of examples of frontline medical treatment in aftg and make some comments on them! granted they're very messy, but i hope they're understandable enough.

from the best, to the worst:

kevin's hand

i don't think it's unfeasible that kevin was back to playing capacity two years after his injury happened — while i think that his hand was probably severely fractured, and there was likely different fingers involved too, with good surgical intervention (which he was likely able to access) hand fractures, even complex ones, can be healed enough in 4-6 months.

the ligament injuries would be the more pertinent, and i think those would be the more pressing concern for him outside of the healed bones, considering ligament injuries can cause chronic issues not limited to pain. i would be surprised if abby was the sole medical provider for the foxes, because while she does appear to be a well-rounded sports nurse, kevin probably would have needed to work with a dedicated physiotherapist and/or a hand specialist to get the use of his hand semi-back to normal.

other questions abt kevin's medical problems? please observe here

2. neil's wounds post baltimore

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by medical staff, i have no concerns. the hospital neil is brought to by the FBI seems to have treated the wounds well and left him to sleep off any negative follow-on effects from the chloroform. the only thing i have qualms with is the implication from the hotel scene that the hospital has put an adhesive dressing over neil's burn on his cheek, which is a big no in wound-dressing — burned skin is very delicate, and adhesives can damage or rip it away with removal. it's why we use glad-wrap in the prehsopital setting for burns, because it's sterile and not sticky!

abby, when she gets her hands on neil, changes the bandages so the wounds can be visualised and aired out, cleans them again, and then re-dresses them cleanly. i have no issues here.

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by andrew, i have only this text from my brother when he first read the series a couple of years ago

throughout the series, including post-nest, andrew is constantly getting his grubby little mitts in neils fresh wounds. he should not be doing that. in particular in the hotel scene he peels away the adhesive dressing over a burn which is just a recipe for tissue-loss, severe pain, and increased risk of infection. i don't know how abby didn't scream because i would have.

just andrew. in general. yikes, my dude. don't do that.

3. jean

jean. he is the kicked dog of this series and i genuinely don't know how he was alive at the start of the book series, let alone at the end. at the start of the series, he has (according to the EC) experienced not only numerous fractures to various bones, but has had two incidences where he 'bashed his head open on the concrete', and needed 266 stitches total. also ten incidences of waterboarding.

if we break this down: that's two major head injuries, multiple incidences of significant amounts of blood loss, and ten incidences of asphyxial peri-arrest events.

it's further implied by both the novels and the extra content that jean was not given time to heal from these injuries, and instead had to play games. add to that the hours of the nest and the living conditions, and i actually cannot fathom how jean was not yet dead, by either a single incident or the culmination of many. exy is a contact sport. those head injuries, plus an accidental shoulder-check into the plexiglass could have, and should have killed him.

i'm glad he didn't. i think it's important that he didn't. but it is a miracle of biology and the sanctity of his cerebral blood vessels that he stays alive to the end of the books.

---

anyway i hope this all makes a bit of sense! im writing this half-mad with eight hours until my last exam for my 2nd to last semester so i'm running on energy drinks and way too much memorisation work of how benzos work. thank you for the question! and as always, please field more my way i LOVE this stuff.

#tfc #aftg #asks+answers #aughhh this was fun

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lady-pug · 1 year ago

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In Sickness And In Health - In Health

Summary: Whatever the kid had has now passed onto you. You feel kriffing awful but keep on working because you feel like you have to pull your weight around the ship, making Din worry. If only you’d let him take care of you.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: description of sickness (no throwing up this time tho)

Notes: the sequel! this one is kinda self indulgent, I wish I had a Din for myself to take care of me whenever I'm sick. I hope you enjoy this one!

Reader’s gender not specified.

Next part | Previous part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

You should have known this would happen. It was pretty obvious really, it was bound to happen no matter how hard you tried to prevent it.

After you and the kid had fully rested, the baby was incredibly clingy towards you. One look at your injured forearms and he had started whimpering, his large eyes glossy as he nuzzled into your arms. While you couldn’t understand what he was saying, you could only guess he felt guilty about hurting you.

“Oh, love. It’s not your fault.” you tried reassuring him as best as you could, but he only snuggled closer to you, much to Din’s amusement.

Speaking of which, once you had woken up, Din had explained what he had found while out. Apparently the man he had agreed to meet had scammed him in exchange for help on something? But you had to admit that the idea he had gotten out of it, his plan to search for other mandalorians, was actually quite a good start. So he set course to this backwater planet in the Outer Rim, notorious for housing mandalorian bounty hunters on occasion.

The first leg of the trip was spent in relative peace. The kid was still a little weak after being ill so he was a lot less active than usual (which was a nice change from having to chase him around the hull all the time). After a quick stop to visit the market and buy some fresh food and restock on medical supplies, you were off again.

Which led you to today. As you went to bed the ‘night’ before you were already feeling… weird. Slightly more tired than usual, especially considering you didn’t do anything that could have worn you out that much. And today… well you felt like you had been run over by a Jawa sandcrawler. Your whole body was sore, aching all over, your throat felt scratchy, there was an annoying pressure behind your eyes, your skull felt like it was filled with cotton, and you were hearing funny, as if you were underwater.

Dragging yourself out of your cot and up the cockpit required a lot more strength than usual, and you almost gave up, tempted to go back to sleep, but quickly reminded yourself that you had tasks you had to do, and the kid to look after as well.

Finally making your way inside the cockpit where Din was piloting the Crest, you all but fell on the copilot seat. He turned slightly sideways in his seat to signal he was listening.

“How long until we get there?” you tried to say without wavering, but something in your voice must have given away that you weren’t feeling great, as he turned fully towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” you were most definitely not fine, but were not about to let him know just yet “Why?”

“I don’t know. You just sound… off.” he paused “And you don’t look so good.”

“Gee, Mando, thanks.” you answered, sarcasm dripping from your tone, before shifting back to a more neutral expression “I’m fine, Din. Really. Just feeling tired, didn’t sleep all that well.”

You hoped he would drop it and leave it at that. Your sore throat was starting to burn a little from so much talking.

“Why don’t you take a nap? Restore your energy?”

Ever the gentleman, you thought, your heart fluttering in your chest from how concerned he sounded about you.

“I can’t.” you sighed “Lots of things to do.”

“I can handle the repairs and look after the kid so you can rest.”

This man, this kriffing perfect, beskar covered man was here, offering to do your job just so you could rest. If you weren’t already feeling more warm than usual you were sure your cheeks would have flushed at that. And his offer was oh so tempting, you wanted nothing more than to just crawl back under the covers and let sleep overtake you. But you had work to do. You already felt like you weren’t pulling your weight enough, ever since the kid started getting better, as Din had done most of your chores while you were out. Not only did he come back very tired after hunting down the information, he also picked up your slack. And here he was offering to do it all over again.

“It’s fine. I’m gonna wake the kid up and we’ll have breakfast together. I’m sure I’ll feel as good as new after a fresh cup of caf.”

As you turned to leave the cockpit you missed the way he kept his visor trained on you as you retreated back into the hull, nor did you see the look of concern directed your way from under the helmet.

As it turned out, you did not, in fact, feel ‘as good as new’ after breakfast. If anything you somehow felt worse: the caf you drank upsetting your already uneasy stomach even further. The kid, none the wiser to your current predicament, was happy to sit down and doodle after eating. You were thankful that he didn’t seem to be up to too much trouble today, as you certainly didn’t have the energy to look after him if he did decide to wreak havoc on the ship like he usually did, and got to work.

Although most of the things you had to do were small repairs around the ship, there were lots of them. And on top of that you also had to do the inventory of the things you and Din had bought on the last stop. You worked at a slower pace than usual, occasionally taking small breaks to deal with a coughing or sneezing fit.

At one point you started feeling progressively colder, shivering no matter how many layers of clothing you put on, even though you were dripping with sweat. You must have a fever. The kid doodles away while you try to focus on the task at-hand. You need to finish your chores. Logically and realistically, you knew it was just the fever talking, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were burdening Din. And the very last thing you wanted was to disappoint him.

You were just finishing the last of the repairs for the day, having taken a considerably longer amount of time to get it all done, and were mentally preparing yourself to get started on the inventory when you heard the familiar clanking sound of steps climbing down the leader from the cockpit.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” you lied nasally from how stuffy your nose felt, not sounding very convincing not even to yourself.

He sighed.

“Cyar’ika…”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you lying to me?”

“What do you mean?” you tried forcing a smile but failing “I feel perfectly fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” he started, a twinge of annoyance permeating his voice “You don’t sound fine. And” he tapped something on the side of your helmet before looking back at you “your core temperature is elevated. What’s going on?”

You sighed, realizing your attempts at hiding how you were feeling were pointless as he could read you almost like an open book.

“I think I caught whatever the kid had the other day.” you averted your gaze, feeling slightly like a kid getting scolded after being caught doing something they shouldn’t “I don’t feel really good.”

His shoulders slumped, as if he was relieved.

“Why don’t you go take a nap while I make you some soup? We have all those fresh vegetables that we bought, it should do the trick.”

You wanted to take him up on it.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I still have some things to get done with.”

“Let me handle whatever you have left to do.” he said, raising his voice just a fraction.

“No, I have to finish the work.” you insisted.

“Why are you so adamant on getting work done when you feel bad?” his annoyed tone was back.

“Because!” you snapped, your throat screaming in agony as you did so “I haven’t been able to keep up with the work lately. If I can’t even do my job right, what is even the point of you keeping me around?!”

Din reeled as if you had slapped him.

“You really think so little of me?” he asked in a small voice.

You visibly deflated.

“I-I’m sorry, Din.” you stammered “That’s not what I- I just-”

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I keep you around because I enjoy your company. Because I like having you around.” he said softly.

You smiled softly at him, feeling somewhat relieved, even though you knew that all along.

“Thanks, Din.” your voice came out even more scratchy than before “I mean it. I enjoy your company too.”

He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly once before dropping his hand.

“Why don’t you take that nap now? I’ll wake you up in a bit with something for you to eat.”

You nodded slowly, your limbs heavy and your headache a bit worse.

“Let me take care of you.”

Even in your weak state, something in the way he said it made your heart speed up, pounding like it was going to beat out of your chest, and heat spread through your entire body.

“Okay.”

You started making your way to your cot when Din grabbed your arm and started steering you towards his own bunk.

“But Din-”

“Please.” he cut you off.

You sighed half-heartedly but let him lead you there, snuggling into his slightly uncomfortable mattress. You felt a comforting clench in your chest when he laid the covers over your form, practically tucking you in.

“Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in a bit with some food.”

You barely nodded in response, already drifting off to sleep.

Din was worried about you. If he had to admit it, worried would be an understatement. He could see right through you when you said you were feeling fine earlier, you looked anything but fine, he could hear it in your voice. But he let it go, if it was something important, you would come to him of your own accord when you were ready. Once he realized you weren’t going to relent, he felt the need to step in.

There was also the matter of what you had told him. He knew it was probably just the fever making you just a little bit delirious, probably brought up by the fact you had fallen behind on your schedule, so he tried not to let your comment sting too much. Din knew you appreciated his presence, and knew that you knew he appreciated your own in turn. Or at least he hoped you did. He was more of a man of action instead of words, so he tried to let his actions speak for themselves, always buying you fresh goods, always leaving your favorite flavor of dehydrated protein bars for you, occasionally buying you some trinkets that reminded him of you when strolling a street market.

What Din felt for you, he had recently come to realize, was more than just appreciation. He loved you, he was helmet over boots in love with you. He wanted only the best for you, so he took it upon himself to take care of you and make you feel better. Like you had done for the kid before.

“Come on, kid” he said, picking the boy up and settling him on the counter “Let’s prepare a meal, yeah?”

He tried searching the holonet for some comfort food recipes from Tatooine, your home planet, and eventually settled on making cream of womp rat soup. He was thankful that you had insisted on buying fresh food at the last stop, which made his job here a little bit easier (although he did have to replace the womp rat meat for another kind).

The kid giggled the entire time, helping the Mandalorian stir the ingredients while his father chopped some vegetables. By the time the soup was all ready and steaming in a bowl, he went to wake you up. Opening the door to his bunk, he felt the corner of his lips curl up in a soft grin at the sight of you, curled up in his bed. While he hated waking you up, he knew you had to eat. He shook your shoulder lightly.

“Cyar’ika…”

“Hmm…?” you sleepily raised your head, acknowledging him.

“I got you some soup. Come on.”

“How long was I out?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand.

“One standard hour, more or less.”

Din gently helped you up into a sitting position, with your back against what would be a headboard (if he had one). He went to retrieve the bowl when he noticed the kid peering up at the bed, making grabbing motions with his hands. Picking him up, he placed him over the covers, near your legs.

“Someone wanted to keep you company.” he said, to which you giggled in return, before launching on a fit of sneezes.

He grabbed the bowl and went back to his bunk, setting it over your lap. He noticed the kid had snuggled against your hip, his little head over your thigh.

“I’m not the best cook in the galaxy” he said, feeling a twinge of awkwardness crawl its way up his throat “but I hope you like it.”

“Well, I would tell you it smells amazing if I could actually feel it.” he chuckled in response “If I’m able to taste anything, I’m pretty sure it will be great.”

He sat down by your feet at the edge of the bed, placing a hand over one of your knees and squeezing it softly. After you brought the spoon to your mouth, you let out a tiny moan of satisfaction.

“Maker, Din” you sighed happily “This is delicious. Is this-?”

“Cream of womp rat soup.” he finished.

“Minus the womp rat, I presume?”

He laughed at that, nodding his head.

“I know you don’t really like your home world, but you grew up there. I just assumed you would find some comfort in it.”

“It’s perfect, Din.” you grinned at him, a smile that made his heart skip a beat “Thank you.”

After another spoonful, you piped up again, your voice more playful.

“And it’s certainly better than the one I prepared for the kid the other day.”

You ate in silence, just the occasional cooing sounds coming from the kid, who was dangerously close to dozing off with his head draped over your thigh. Din’s heart clenched in adoration at the loving smile on your face, clearly enjoying the meal he so thoughtfully prepared for you.

You finished eating, drinking directly from the bowl, and turned back towards him.

“It was delicious, Din. Thank you. I mean it.” your smile seemed to light up your face, even with your sunken cheeks and the prominent bags under your eyes that were getting more noticeable by the hour.

“It was my pleasure, Cyar’ika.” he smiled in return, even though you couldn’t see it “Anything for you to feel better.”

You quickly averted your eyes, a nervous look in your eyes making itself known for just a tiny fraction of second, before you looked back at him with a tired smile.

“I think my fever is getting worse.” your face fell when you sighed “I feel like it’s getting colder around here.”

He tapped the side of his helmet.

“Your temperature is getting higher.”

Din got up, retrieving the kid and placing him back on the floor next to his coloring tools. He then extended a hand towards you.

“Come on. A cool shower should help alleviate the symptoms.”

He helped you up on your feet, holding onto your elbow as you swayed upon planting your feet on the cold durasteel floor. He didn’t dare let go of your hand as you two slowly walked the small distance towards the fresher. He leaned you on a wall while preparing the water temperature for you.

“Think you can take it from here?” he asked, a bit awkwardly.

“Yeah. Should be fine.”

As you moved to step away from him, he gently held your hand.

“I’m going to bring you some clothes. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside the door.”

You nodded, thanking him. He was left to watch you step into the fresher, closing the door behind you.

The cool water felt soothing on your feverish skin somehow. The droplets seemed to wash away all your worries and struggles, leaving only a tired body behind.

You washed slowly, your movements precise and careful in order not to drop anything, as you were sure you wouldn’t be able to crouch and pick it up without slipping and possibly injuring yourself quite badly. Leaving your face for last, you enjoyed how it suddenly made you feel just a little bit better. You only exited when your eyelids started feeling heavy and droopy (which didn’t really take long to be honest).

You reached for the towel hanging next to you, wrapping it around yourself after having dried off. With your skin now dry, the cold came back in full swing, having seemingly intensified while you showered, making you tremble on the spot. Maker, all you wanted was to get dressed and slip back under the covers, as you were suddenly getting very tired again, as if all the energy you gained from the small nap and Din’s soup was washed down the drain along with the water.

Opening the door you came face to face with a towering wall of beskar. His arms were extended in your direction, holding a pile of folded clean clothes, his helmet turned to the side, not staring directly at you. Once you got the clothes, he quickly turned around, his back to you, giving you some privacy.

“If you need anything, let me know.”

You felt as if you were dressing in slow motion, your movements sluggish. The shirt was certainly not yours, probably one of Din’s, and the thought made a warm feeling spread across your chest.

“All set.”

Din turned back towards you, tilting his head to the side, like he was assessing your appearance in his clothes. He took a step forward, almost chest to chest with you, and, picking your arm up gently, started rolling the sleeve up, exposing your forearm. Something about the gesture felt incredibly intimate, and if you weren’t so very tired you would definitely be able to pay attention to the erratic beat of your heart. When he was done with the other sleeve he started leading you back to his bunk.

“Can’t you just give me an antipyretic or something?” you whined under your breath.

He chuckled lightly, his heart breaking a little bit for you were suffering.

“No, Cyar’ika. A fever is the body’s natural defense against the infection. Unless it starts getting dangerously high, you should let it go away on its own.”

You huffed, stubbornly, but let it go. As you arrived back on his bed, he helped you lie down and get comfortable, wrapping you in as many blankets he could get his hands on. As he went to leave your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay.”

“Cyar’ika-” he started.

“Please?” you almost whispered.

He hesitated for just a moment before removing his vembrances. One by one the pieces of his armor came off, being carefully placed in a crate near the bunk, leaving him in only his helmet and flightsuit.

Din lied down beside you and you instantly scooted closer to him, nuzzling into his chest. He tensed for just a second, before his body relaxed, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you even closer.

“Thank you, Din” you said “for looking after me.”

Din tilted his head, touching his chest with his chin, and briefly pressed the cold beskar forehead of his helmet to your own very lightly.

“Always.”

You soon fell asleep, feeling safe and protected like never before.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #din djarin fluff #grogu baby yoda #grogu and din #the mandalorian fanfiction

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