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j2lx · 2 years ago

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Arguing With Them (headcanons)

Warnings: angst to fluff, arguments (obviously lol), worrying about safety and overworking, insecurities, crying (a lot of crying), mentions of abuse in Sukuna's part and Naoya's part

A/n: I am so so sorry I went on hiatus without notice =( I just came back from my overseas vacation and I was so tired on the trip and when I just came home that I couldn't do much. I finally got the energy to finish this draft that was sitting in my docs for like a month so please do enjoy reading!

Characters: Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Kugisaki Nobara, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Ryomen Sukuna (Sukuna has his own body in this but isn't in his OG form), Zenin Maki, Okkotsu Yuuta, Inumaki Toge, Suguru Geto (basically high school Geto, before he became all you know), Toji Fushiguro (he isn't broke in this fic just so it isn't as confusing), Naoya Zenin (he isn't misogynistic (for Fem!readers) cuz he loves you a lot!) x Gender Neutral!reader

Itadori Yuuji

You hardly argue with your boyfriend. You understand him, and he understands you. The two of you never argue much since you both are able to come to a mutual agreement. Both of you get along really well, and think in similar ways, so it's rare for things to escalate into a fight.

When it does though, it hurts the both of you a lot. Guilt tends to gnaw at you two, and you both start to feel bad for lashing out at each other instead of talking it out slowly. Yuuji would be the one who's more affected between the two of you. He won't even be able to sleep after arguing with you because of how bad he feels.

Most of the time, you argue because of your boyfriend's lack of concern for his own safety. He tends to put others before himself in all situations, putting him at risk of injuries and even death. While you understand that the both of you being Jujutsu sorcerers would mean risking your life at times, you just can't tolerate how your boyfriend seems to be unnecessarily throwing himself into situations that could kill him.

Yuuji, being the caring and kind person who makes sure to protect others more than himself, fails to understand where you're coming from when these arguments start. It's his job after all, and it's what he should be doing. He just doesn't understand why you are so concerned when you yourself have to do the same. He doesn't get why you say he's "going too far" and "basically almost dying on every mission".

He's always stubborn and defends himself during these arguments, telling you that he's already doing his best to protect himself. But when you start to walk away and cry, he'll start to reflect and more often than not, he does realise that what you're saying is true. He just gets into the heat of the moment during missions and ends up not thinking about ways he could protect himself better, all while getting the mission done.

When you start to walk away, he'll immediately chase after you and try to apologise to you. Most of the time, all you want to do is make up with your boyfriend and cuddle with him while he holds you close to him. However, if you ever decide that you need time alone instead, Yuuji will sit outside of your dorm, listening to the shuffling of your feet in the room, your soft cries and sniffles, waiting for you to open the door and let him in to comfort you when you feel ready enough.

Yes, arguments with your boyfriend might hurt, and it might be tough to get through to him most of the time, but when he sees how desperate, concerned and sad you are, he'll start to understand. He'll never let you stay mad at him after these arguments because he doesn't want to lose you over something that he should have realised that he was wrong about all along. Expect loads of cuddles and Yuuji being clingy to you after arguments! (Also lots of "I love you"s from him)

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, arguments with Megumi occur once in a while, but it hardly escalates into something really big. Megumi isn't always the best at understanding your feelings and trying to see where you're coming from, especially if it's about your safety. He's stubborn and stands his ground in arguments, which makes arguing with him a little… painful.

He tries his best to understand your point of view, really. But you're the most important person to him, and it's natural for him to want to protect you no matter what, right? When arguing with him, it always hurts you more than him, because sometimes it's like he's scolding you and not hearing you out. But after the argument, all the guilt hits him like a ton of bricks and he starts to feel really bad for just lashing out at you.

Arguments with him are the worst when he realises changes in your behaviour. You started to train and exercise a lot in your free time, which confused him. You didn't spend as much time with him anymore and he could tell that you were overworking yourself. When he confronted you about it, you refused to tell him about it and it pissed him off. You were so important to him, and he wanted the best for you, so why couldn't you open up and tell him?

He starts to lecture you about reasons you shouldn't overwork yourself and tells you, in a rather harsh way, that you should tell him what's going on. And the whole time, he doesn't pause to let you speak at all. He's just so worried and annoyed that he goes on and on. He starts getting blinded by his concern and anger that he forgets to listen to you, and even if he does, he tends not to process it before he says something again.

He only knows he's gone too far when you start tearing up, shouting above his voice that the only reason you were overworking yourself was so that you could match up to him, so that he wouldn't leave you behind. And when you run out of his dorm and hide in your own dorm, locking the door the moment you step in, he finally starts to process what you said.

He sits on the edge of his bed, processing everything you said. He feels the guilt of not hearing you out properly, and he knows he has to do something to make it up to you. He knows he isn't the best at expressing his emotions through his words, so he heads to the kitchen and starts to make a cup of your favourite hot drink for you, before heading to your dorm.

He always knocks on your door and asks if you can let him into your dorm. If you don't, he sets the drink down on a table in the common room and tells you to drink it before it gets cold, and then heads back to his dorm. But if you let him in, like you do more often than not, he'll set the drink on the table you have in your room and apologise to you, before asking if he can cuddle with you, which you always agree to.

Kugisaki Nobara

Arguments with her are actually pretty rare! Most of the time, the two of you just try your best to understand each other, and it works perfectly well. The two of you hardly meet a situation where both of you have really different opinions and disagree strongly with each other.

But when that does happen, it gets heated very quickly. One of you would start accusing the other person, while the other has no choice but to defend themselves to the best of their abilities. You both end up really mad at each other because you didn't really listen to each other's feelings and instead, started shouting accusations at each other.

Nobara really appreciates it when you spend time with her on your days off from missions and school. She often takes the initiative to ask you when you're free and then sets aside those few days just to spend time with you. So when you told her that you took up an urgent mission, even though there were other people to handle it, she was really annoyed and pissed off. You had promised three weeks ago that you'll spend time with her on that day, and yet you decided to go on a mission that any other Jujutsu sorcerers could handle instead.

She started out by asking you why you wanted to do that, and when you replied that it was so you could get promoted more quickly, she snapped. She had told you countless times that in the Jujutsu world, you'll forever want to aim higher and higher, and there was no end to it. And yet, you had taken up a mission on a day she specially put aside so that the two of you could go out together.

Accusations and screaming is all that can be heard when your arguments get that heated. She calls you a liar and you retort that she doesn't care about you. She says that she can't trust you anymore and you reply that if she believes that, it's fine by you. It's just her attacking you with her words and you just trying to defend yourself. Eventually, it gets too frustrating for Nobara and she just walks out of your dorm, slamming the door behind her.

In the end, you go on your mission. But on the way there, you start reflecting, and realise that you were in the wrong to begin with. And truth to be told, you don't know how to make it up to your girlfriend. You know that she's always looking forward to these kinds of days, days that she can spend with you, having fun and just hanging out together. And yet, you decided to ruin it all and make her angry by breaking a promise.

When you get back to Jujutsu High, you knock on Nobara's dorm room. You hear a muffled "go away", so you just leave, giving her the space she needs. You head out again to buy her something you know she'll like, and then leave it outside her dorm room when you return. And when she finds the gift outside of her door, with an apology letter, she goes to look for you immediately so that the two of you can make up and cuddle in her dorm after that.

Satoru Gojo

You get into arguments with him mostly because of what he's doing. Be it annoying and teasing you too much, or being too reckless, it's always because he gets too cocky and negligent of himself that the two of you end up arguing. It doesn't happen often, since he listens to your scoldings when you try to tell him to stop being annoying or reckless.

And on the occasion that the argument does escalate, it's always him trying to defend his own actions by giving you random excuses. And if that doesn't piss you off enough, he never gives you the space to cool down after arguments. He'll cling to you, because "the argument is over" and he clearly thinks that it's fine to stick close to you when you clearly need your own space.

It's the worst when you get into arguments with him over his safety. His only excuses are that he's "the strongest" and since he "hasn't died yet, you don't have to worry". And while you don't disagree that he's the strongest, and know full well that he won't bite the dust that easily, you just can't help but worry. Yes, Satoru understands you like no other, the only thing he'll never comprehend is your worry for his safety.

Maybe it's because he's just that confident in his own abilities, or he just doesn't deem it necessary for you to worry over him when he promised that he'll return home to you no matter what. Regardless, he's stubborn when these kinds of arguments happen, more so than usual. He'll pick on everything you say, use things he's said in the past, just do absolutely anything to win the argument when that's not exactly the point. In the heat of the moment, he always forgets that it's you worrying about him, that you're scared for him. And instead of trying to reassure and comfort you, he starts to defend his own actions.

You're always the one to step back from the arguments and head to your shared bedroom to just have some space for yourself. However, your boyfriend takes that as a cue that all's well and good, and that you're on good terms with him again. He'll knock on the bedroom door, and no matter what your response is to that, he'll enter the room and start clinging to you, hugging and kissing you when all you really want is time away from him. He only gets that when you tell him to leave and shove him away from you.

He'll give you all the time in the world after that, just so that you can calm down as much as possible. And instead of distracting himself from the sadness of being pushed away, he sits outside the bedroom door, listening to every sound you make. He has to will himself not to burst into the room when he hears your quiet sobs, and just curls up into a ball, hoping that you'll calm down soon.

And when you finally let him into the room, your eyes red and puffy, he'll pull you into a hug while apologising for how unreasonable and annoying he was. He spends the rest of the day cuddling with you and being at your every command. He would do everything and anything, literally anything, just to cheer you up and make you feel better.

Nanami Kento

Arguments with him are super duper rare. He really tries his best to understand your feelings and will never lash out, even if you're being unreasonable sometimes. He's able to reason with you very well, so the two of you hardly get into arguments if there's ever something that's bothering either of you.

That doesn't mean that there are no arguments at all. Of course, when arguments do happen, Kento tries to let you understand his side of the story and hears you out no matter what. But when it does escalate, he knows when to end the argument and give you some space. There will be raised voices and even shouting, but at some point, he knows that it's not going to help solve anything and gives you the space to calm down.

The worst argument you had with him was over him being "obsessed" with hunting down a curse. You heard of this unregistered special grade curse with a patchwork face, and you knew just how dangerous it was to track it down. But you knew that your boyfriend was trying to help out and protect people from this curse by finding it and exorcising it.

Even so, you couldn't really understand why he had to work so hard to hunt it down, even working overtime on most days just to get information and track the curse's location. It wasn't just that he was spending less time with you, he was risking his own life and safety by trying to accomplish his mission. And you drew the line at that. You couldn't lose Kento. So you confronted him about it one evening after he came back from working overtime yet again.

It started out fine, just you telling him to give it up, or at least not work so hard over this matter. You expected him to understand, to listen to you, but you were wrong. He started to tell you about the mission, why it was important, why he had to do his best to search for it even if it meant that he had to work overtime. And that just leads to you shouting at him, telling him how neglected and scared you feel. And he starts to raise his voice too, saying that you don't understand how important his work is, even though you're a Jujutsu sorcerer too. Both of your voices fill your shared apartment, just pointless screaming that isn't helping either of you to come to a consensus.

After a while, Kento calms down and approaches you slowly, wiping away the tears that flowed down your cheeks without you even noticing. He goes to the kitchen and hands you a cup of water before going to your shared bedroom, giving you some space and leaving you alone in the living room to think about what happened.

He always waits for you to calm down fully and look for him. The last thing he wants is for him to cause you to feel more upset by approaching you while you're still mad at him. Rest assured though, after you go to look for him, he'll apologise very sincerely and do whatever you want to do with him. Expect lots of cuddles and kisses, and even a date later in the week!

Ryomen Sukuna

Arguments with your boyfriend are not exactly common, but they do happen more than should. He's not the best with emotions, but he's really trying his best to understand your point of view. He knows that he needs to start being gentler and more sympathetic, and he's really working on it.

But more often than not, arguments with him do escalate quite badly. He's stubborn, and most of the time he forgets that communication is a two way thing. It's not that he's shutting you out on purpose, he just doesn't register that he needs to let you voice out your opinions so that he can hear you out.

Most of the time, arguments occur because of how overprotective your boyfriend becomes when you talk to another guy. You've told him before that men have taken advantage of you before, gained your trust before throwing you around and using you for their own cruel plans. And whenever Sukuna sees someone being nice to you, he panics. He doesn't think that they're genuinely trying to be nice to you. Instead, his brain thinks of the worst case scenario and immediately his body acts to protect you in case they do anything to you.

It wasn't the first time Sukuna had to meet a male colleague of yours. Considering that you both were Jujutsu sorcerers, most of your colleagues were his as well, and he slowly managed to warm up to them without feeling the need to protect you from them, because he trusts them enough. But when he met your new make colleague who was going to be your mentee, he kind of lost it. Your boyfriend immediately glared at him when he tried to help you carry some documents back to the office, scaring your mentee.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you confronted Sukuna about his actions. To you, it was just plain unreasonable that he had scared someone innocent and who had done nothing to harm you. Your boyfriend got frustrated that you couldn't see it from his point of view and told you to just let him protect you so that no one else would take advantage of you. And while you could see where he was coming from, you couldn't tolerate the fact that he was going around intimidating people who were innocent and had no plan to abuse you like the people you encountered in the past. So you shoved him away and told him to leave you alone as you left the apartment and went to stay over at Shoko's place for the night.

The next morning, you were greeted by your mentee the moment you got to the campus of Jujutsu High. He shared about how Sukuna had apologised to him for scaring him, and had warned him not to take advantage of you, which he assured you he had no intention of doing. Upon hearing that your stubborn and somewhat unapologetic boyfriend actually apologised to someone who wasn't you, you couldn't help but feel a little touched and decided to find him after work to make up with him.

You managed to catch up to him as he was leaving the campus and immediately reached to grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your face into his chest, apologising for being irrational the previous night, and thanking him for looking out for you. He smiled before picking you up in his arms and pressing a kiss on your forehead, whispering an apology as well. He put you down gently and you both walked hand in hand, ready to go back home together.

Maki Zenin

You and Maki have arguments, yes, but they hardly occur. The two of you prefer to sit down and talk about it calmly instead of lashing out at each other, since talking it out makes the both of you more comfortable with sharing your views and helps make the atmosphere less tense.

During the extremely heated and intense arguments, that are few and far between, it becomes much more difficult for the both of you to take a step back and it usually ends up in the two of you ignoring each other for a while.

It's not uncommon to see Maki work out and train in her free time, considering that she wants to work hard to get promoted and just get stronger in general. Anyone who knows her would know that she works out almost everyday during her break time, and you're used to that too. In fact, you do enjoy joining in with her, or just watching your girlfriend while she trains.

But sometimes, it gets a little too much. It's not that you want to be the kind of clingy s/o, nor do you want to disrupt Maki's training regime and deprive her of the time she has to work out, but it's been bad to the extent that she only has time to eat and sleep outside of classes, missions, training and working out. Due to it being the season where more curses appear, all of you at Jujutsu High have been assigned more missions and life has been busier than usual. You would've thought that with the number of missions she was assigned, your girlfriend wouldn't have the time or energy to work out when she got a break (if she got any), but she clearly proved you wrong.

You decided to talk to her about it one day. It wasn't just about the way she spent her time, but also about her health and sleep schedule. You were more worried than anything, and you just wanted to make sure that she was alright and safe. Maybe it was the stress from all the missions, or it could've been the weather, but for whatever reason, Maki was more pissed than usual when you tried to talk to her. You explained the situation calmly and yet she could only snap that you wouldn't understand. And when you tried again to ask her about how she was feeling, she said that she was fine in a deadpanned voice. You got frustrated and ended up shouting at her, which led her to shout at you too. After she made her point she turned to leave and didn't talk to you for the next few days.

Even after the whole argument, you still wanted to look out for your girlfriend as much as possible. That led you to going to the teachers and requesting for them to give Maki fewer missions, just so she wouldn't push herself too hard on a daily basis. And little did you know that a certain blindfolded teacher mentioned it to your girlfriend in passing one day during training.

As a result, you were shocked to see Maki outside your dorm room on a weekend morning, considering that she usually went for jogs at that time. She explained that Gojo has told her about what you did, and apologised for being mean to you. You did the same, admitting that it was probably not right for you to disturb her when she was in the middle of getting ready for a mission. You invited her to spend the rest of the day with you, and the two of you let the rare time you had away from missions and training pass while spending time catching up with each other.

Okkotsu Yuuta

Arguments with Yuuta almost never occur, just because you two get along really well and never actually had a good reason to get into an argument. You two are like relationship goals, being able to understand each other's emotions and adapting the needs of the other party.

Even when things escalate, it never goes to the point of leaving a permanent, unforgettable scar on either of you. The two of you are both very emotional, and neither of you can bear to see the other person crying. So your arguments never escalate beyond a certain point, because you just can't stand to see each other hurt because of what had been said.

The only time you've had a super heated argument with Yuuta was when he finished his training overseas and was going to come back. Despite the fact that he kept telling you that he was going to return home to you soon, the date kept being pushed back. It was a full two weeks since the initial date he was supposed to come back home, and yet he was still overseas because of the missions he had to take up at the last minute.

You were slowly becoming more and more impatient. It's been months since you've seen your boyfriend, and the time you've spent apart just gets longer by the day. Did he not care about you anymore? It started to seem that way. You were normally an understanding person, and you knew how hard your boyfriend had it, considering he was a special grade sorcerer. But if you had to spend just another week away from him, you knew you would break. You decided to call Yuuta, just to let him know that you needed him back as soon as possible.

The call didn't go as you expected at all. You started by telling Yuuta how much you love him, and that you really can't do it anymore. That you can't spend any more time without him by your side. And Yuuta, with guilt laced in his voice, told you that he had to stay for six more days because of the appearance of a special grade curse. And that's when you broke. With tears trickling down your cheeks, you asked him if he even loved you anymore in a shaky voice, before hanging up on him and going to sleep, hugging the plush toy he bought for your birthday to comfort yourself.

You didn't hear from Yuuta the day after that and resigned yourself to the fate that you wouldn't see him until a week later. The last thing you expected was to hear a knock on your door the first thing in the morning, and for your boyfriend to be standing on the other side of the door, his bags and luggage still with him. He handed you a small bouquet of flowers with a small teddy bear on it and hugged you to his chest tightly. You could hear the tremble in his voice as he whispered apologies in your ear, and you pulled away from the hug to give him a peck on the lips.

After he placed his baggage in his dorm room and took a shower, he headed straight for your room to cuddle with you. The two of you talked things out, apologised to each other and started to plan for what to do if he got sent on a long trip again. Needless to say, you both spent the rest of the day in each other's arms, kissing and cuddling to your heart's content.

Inumaki Toge

You and Toge never had an argument before, as weird as it sounds. Of course Toge is a prankster and he loves teasing and flustering you, but he never goes overboard and never causes you discomfort of any sort. The two of you just never had anything to argue over, and you were thankful for that.

Well, that held true until… that happened. That's when you learnt what arguments with your boyfriend were like. And it wasn't even a normal argument. It was a horrible and scarring experience for the both of you. You just shut him out and Toge basically couldn't defend himself because you were ignoring him.

It all started when a new second year student transferred from Kyoto Jujutsu High to Tokyo. They were randomly assigned a buddy from the second years in Tokyo and it just so happened to be your boyfriend, Toge. At first, you were happy for him. Because of his cursed speech, it was difficult for him to make new friends and you had a feeling that this buddying experience would help him gain a new friend.

The warm feeling of happiness slowly turned to bitter envy when your boyfriend's buddy started to cling to him more. They basically spent the whole day together, and the only time they weren't together was during bedtime. From training to doing homework together, Toge's schedule suddenly became dedicated to them. And despite knowing that Toge loved you and only you, jealousy washed upon you and you couldn't help but feel more and more insecure by the day.

It got so bad that eventually, you couldn't even bring yourself to get out of your dorm room, unless it was for classes or training. You didn't want to see his buddy clinging to him, and your boyfriend paying them the attention they were seeking. You decided that you had enough one night, and took your phone from the bedside table and sent a message to Toge that said, "I hope you and your buddy are getting along, because it certainly seems so. If you don't want to be with me anymore, you know you can just tell me right?" And with that, you switched your phone off and tried your best to go to sleep.

You didn't leave your room for the entire day the next day and tried to distract yourself from hunger by reading the books you had. However, by the time it was evening, you were so hungry and desperate for food that you had no choice but to leave your room. And when you opened your door, you saw a lunchbox tied to the door handle on the other side. Without even opening it up, you knew it was from your boyfriend.

You immediately went to his dorm and knocked on the door. It took less than 10 seconds for the door to open and for him to pull you into a tight hug. Toge then dragged you into his room gently, and gestured for you to sit on his lap after he settled onto the edge of his bed. He placed a small kiss on your nose and muttered, "S…Sorry." You instantly felt your heart soften; hearing your boyfriend speak words other than onigiri ingredients was something that rarely occurred. You apologised before cupping his cheek and kissing him roughly on the lips, the kiss conveying all the emotions and love you felt for each other.

Suguru Geto

Yes, arguments do happen but they don't last long nor are they super intense. No seriously, your boyfriend is one of the most compassionate and sympathetic people you've ever met, so it's not often that he can't understand how you feel.

But when he truly fails to see where you're coming from, either because he thinks that what he's saying is more justifiable, or because he thinks that you're overacting, then the argument does escalate into something more heated than usual. He'll still hear you out, but he's likely going to continue to defend himself.

With a boyfriend who's a special grade sorcerer, it's only normal for you to have to spend time away from Suguru at times. It could be because of long missions overseas or just emotional distance because he can't spend much time with you. No matter what, he always makes it up to you after all his missions and assignments and spends lots of time with you.

Maybe it's because you never really showed strong opposition to Suguru going on more and more missions. You knew it had to happen, considering he was one of the four special grade sorcerers and that he was needed by the Jujutsu world considering his strength. But recently, your boyfriend started taking up more missions volunteeringly. And considering that he had never done that before, it felt weird to you… almost like he was trying to distance himself on purpose, which you were pretty sure wasn't the case. Nonetheless, you decided to talk to your boyfriend about it. You wanted to make sure that he wasn't pushing himself too hard unnecessarily, and that he wasn't being pressured into taking on these missions.

When you finally got down to confronting your boyfriend about the issue, he merely shrugged it off and said that it had to be done. He didn't really seem to acknowledge the concern you were showing him, which frustrated you and led you to snap at him, telling him about how he just doesn't seem to care about you or anything you do for him anymore. He then snapped back, saying that if you cared so much, you'd just leave him alone.

He instantly regretted his words, and even more so when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. He muttered a quick "sorry" before he walked towards the door and prepared to leave your shared apartment to give you some space, like he always does after arguing with you. But instead of letting him leave as you would usually do, you pulled the hem of his shirt and whispered, "Stay. Please."

And stay he did. Your boyfriend sat down on the couch before pulling you onto his lap, comforting you by stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings to you, all while you stuffed your face into his chest, letting his smell calm you down. After you calmed down enough to look at him, he kissed you all over your face and offered to make you your favourite dish for dinner that night, which of course you couldn't say no to. And you both knew that after you talked things out during dinner, everything would be alright again.

Toji Fushiguro

There was hardly any reason to get into arguments with Toji. He protected you, took good care of you and most importantly, showered you with love and made you feel so happy just by being with him. However, that doesn't mean that your relationship is always smooth sailing.

Arguments with him always escalate, but that's mainly because they hardly occur and your boyfriend doesn't really know how to deal with it. All his life, he's needed to fend for himself, so it's only natural for him to do the same during arguments with you.

You recently introduced Toji to a job. You used to work as a cashier in a bookstore and after contacting your previous colleague, who was now the manager, about job openings, they told you that there was an opening that just so happened to fit Toji perfectly. The job scope was mostly helping with organising the books in the bookstore, which your boyfriend definitely could do considering his strength and height.

Everything was going really well and he even got commended on his performance at work. Of course, you were really happy for him because he finally had a job and could earn money to support the both of you and the family he wanted to build with you. But that happiness was short lived after you realised that he started betting with his earnings like he did in the past. You couldn't help but feel a little bit betrayed because you thought he would know better than to go back to doing things like that, especially after learning how hard it was to earn money again. But old habits die hard, and you knew you had to stop it before it was too late.

You got Toji to sit with you and talk about how his job was going, before you slowly approached the topic of him betting his earnings. When you did reach that point, you asked him why continued to do it, as gently as you could so as to not make him feel attacked. But when he said that he was merely enjoying life and only betting a small amount each time, something in you snapped. It wasn't that you didn't want Toji to do what he liked to do, but you just couldn't accept that he forgot all about the future and saving money to start a family together. And so you lash out. You tell him that you suddenly feel alone in working towards having a better life and a family together, all while he tries to tell you that he was trying his luck to maybe win big and let you rest instead of working.

Somehow, that managed to make you soften up and as much as you wanted to stand your ground, you couldn't help but walk up to your boyfriend and press a kiss on his cheek. The mere fact that he was doing it so that there was a chance that if he won, he would let you rest and not have to work yourself so hard made you feel touched by his way of thinking.

Toji mumbled an apology, telling you that he didn't know you wouldn't approve of what he was doing and you could feel a wave of guilt wash upon you. You had never set any guidelines on how he should spend his money and you felt bad for making him apologise for doing something he liked with the money he earned himself. You muttered an apology as well, before pressing your lips against his to convey all the feelings you can't put into words.

Naoya Zenin

Arguments with him are the worst. The very very worst. They don't happen very often, but they always escalate quickly because he just lashes out and says everything he wants to say without letting you say anything, frustrating you in the process.

Almost every argument you have with him will escalate, and he just doesn't get that he should listen to you. He doesn't think that your insecurities might be bugging you, which is why the argument even starts. He doesn't stop to process that you're probably feeling really extreme emotions, that you're just desperate for some kind of affirmation and comfort from him. He doesn't realise that he should be gentle with you, instead of arguing with you.

Naoya doesn't spend much time away from you, he knows full well that if he does, your fears and insecurities would probably get the better of you. However, when he starts to do it subconsciously, you can't help but want some form of reassurance that he isn't doing it on purpose. It's your fear that he's still in contact with the Zen'in clan, the very people who abused you for months on end, the people he saved you from.

When you go to him, asking him about why he hasn't been spending as much time with you, he gets frustrated. He doesn't realise that he never told you about all the extra missions he's been taking on to save up more money to surprise you with a vacation for your birthday. He doesn't realise that you're scared, scared that he's going to turn against you and exploit you because you think he's spending time with the clan members, planning to bring you back to them.

And he just lashes out. He doesn't even give you time to explain yourself, he just starts telling you to learn to take care of yourself, to stop relying on him, to stop being "clingy and whiny". He doesn't stop shouting at you, saying that you don't understand why he's even doing all this. And it's true that you don't, because he never told you. He just gets so frustrated that he just continues yelling at you, until you can't hold it back anymore. You just break down in tears and run to your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

Only then does he realise that he's taken it too far. The image of your tear-stricken face gets stuck in his mind, and he starts to feel really remorseful. He remembers you telling him that if he leaves you for too long, you get scared that he's leaving you. And yet that never crossed his mind when he was lashing out.

He goes to the bedroom, and knocks on the door asking if he can enter. And you never answer, too caught up in all your negative thoughts to process that he's trying to reach out to you. He always enters as quietly as possible, so it always catches you off guard. And when he sees how you look at him, your eyes shining with fear and sadness, looking at him like he's one of the clan members who abused you, he tears up too, because he never meant to hurt you that much. He grabs the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you snuggly, pulling you to his chest and letting you sob with him while he mutters apologies over and over again.

I think I went… a little crazy considering the length of this. I was honestly very tempted to make this into a hcs + short fic post and if this gets enough comments or asks requesting for a short fic part, I probably will do it =) Hope you enjoyed reading!

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 year ago

Text

The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee.

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it.

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept.

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture.

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past.

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you. “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain.

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control.

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart.

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin.

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you.

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap.

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding.

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook.

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade.

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight.

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t.

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter.

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits.

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice.

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says.

Fuck.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull.

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun #top gun hangman #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin x plus size!reader #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic

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wingedcat13 · 7 months ago

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Siren Call: 3

[We’ve had past and present Minerva, but what about future?]

One day, Minerva will be familiar with the island’s crags and shelves. She’ll know the way the shore slope becomes a drop off and where the sandbars are, the color and density of all the coral, the migratory patterns of the species who pass by.

Today, she knows enough to avoid triggering the sensors. Even pauses to adjust one that’s started sagging out of place.

Minerva chooses not to walk up the beach, not wanting to track sand into the - house? Facility? Building? - not wanting to get sand caked to her feet and legs. Jumping straight up to the roof in a waterspout is also unnecessarily dramatic when there isn’t a fight to get to. So she just gathers herself, waits for a wave, and urges it a little higher, placing herself at its apex.

It gets her high enough that she can reach the railing of the overlooking balcony, with enough momentum to curl and tuck her body, cartwheeling over the rail partially just for the joy of motion. Even the smooth tiles feel rough compared to the water, strangely unyielding, and she wobbles just a little as she catches her bearings. Belatedly, she realizes she almost kicked the crap out of one of the balcony’s chairs. The little swerve she does is automatic. At least there wasn’t an audience-

“Minerva.” Says Synovus, sitting on the table because they’re deranged. There’s a surprised tilt to the end of her name, like half a question answering itself. They’re wearing civilian clothes again, and some part of Minerva’s mind can’t help noting that their arms are bare. “Welcome - back.”

One day, Minerva won’t scowl at them on reflex.

Today, she demands immediately, “Were you waiting for me?”

“Y-es?” Synovus hedges, not moving. “But also no? I was - I thought you’d be coming up from the shore.”

They sound almost abashed. But that’s too close to ‘embarrassed’ and Minerva is well aware that Synovus has no shame. She may have genuinely surprised them - they’re perched on the edge of the table, and had leaned away slightly. Synovus wanting to be a problem would have chosen a much more… blatant posture. Or at least to sit further back in the shadows. The absence of either a gaudy attention grabber or deliberate stealth indicated this middle ground was not an act. Or perhaps that’s what she’s meant to think.

One day, Minerva will not have to consciously pick aside the paranoia to see what is in front of her.

Today, it takes effort - but she does it.

With a sigh, she closes her eyes, and focuses on each part of her body, bringing herself down from the mild surge of adrenaline. One hand draws back the wet strands of her hair. The other removes the mask that was a gift. She leaves her eyes closed while she rubs the red marks out of her skin.

With her eyes closed, it’s easier to skip past the defensive retort, and say instead, “You could’ve at least had a coffee waiting for me.”

“I don’t actually know your preferences in that regard.” Synovus admits, and for a heartbeat Minerva is worried this will turn into a far too blunt conversation about homecomings, but - “Do you take it black? Iced? Green?”

Minerva scoffs, but it might have just been a laugh. Even she’s not sure. “White chocolate mocha.” She answers. “One shot espresso, oat milk.”

“Ah,” Synovus says, as Minerva opens her eyes. They seem to have had a revelation. “So that’s why Alexandria likes those Unicorn frappes so much. Hm. And here I usually go for the cider.”

A smile tugs at one corner of her mouth at the thought - Synovus, dread assassin, going to a coffee shop and ordering hot apple juice with whipped cream.

Minerva sets her mask on the table. “Stand up a minute.” She tells Synovus quietly, her voice nearly lost in the sound of the waves below.

“I don’t take direction well.” Synovus replies, even as they slide off the table and to their feet, turning to face her. There’s a caution to their movements, but also curiosity, written far more liberally across the unobscured face Minerva once never thought to see.

If Minerva meets their eyes too long, she’ll lose her nerve, so she winds up staring somewhere around Synovus’s collarbone instead. There’s a scar there, hidden for now by a high-necked top, and Minerva knows that because she put it there. It had been a targeted move: Synovus had broken her collarbone the fight before.

She wants to be better at giving back things other than pain.

“Just - give me a moment. Don’t move, please.” She’s pretty sure it’s the ‘please’ that gets them. Synovus goes so statue-still that Minerva’s not sure they’re blinking. But they don’t protest. And they certainly don’t move as Minerva steps forward.

And in one of the most awkward movements of her life, slides her arms around Synovus’s ribcage, setting her chin gently on their shoulder.

This is instantly easier when she no longer has to look at Synovus’s face. Well. When she can’t look. Can’t fixate on finding and parsing the smallest of expressions, assigning meaning to the specific tilt of a chin or speed of a blink. She’s still bad at it - hugging - because she usually just lets other people hug her, and initiating it is weird, but she can’t imagine Synovus is particularly good at it either.

After all, they’re still standing stock-still, and if Minerva wasn’t currently very aware of their breathing, she might even think they were panicking.

“Not a trap.” She mutters, and feels as much as hears Synovus’s responding huff. But their arms slowly, cautiously, hesitantly come up to return the embrace, hands resting lightly on her back. The side of Synovus’s head tips gently into hers.

One day, Minerva might not feel awkward about body contact and physical affection. One day, she may find herself as familiar with Synovus’s scars as she is her own. And she just might reach a point, eventually, where one of them could make a joke about this just being an excuse to get Synovus wet and not immediately both perish from the agony of an accidental allusion to arousal.

For today, this awkward embrace is enough.

———————————————————

Minerva probably won’t ever see a crowd as something other than a threat to be monitored.

Large groups have always made her tense, and that instinct had only gotten worse over the years. Most villains respect the ad hoc agreement about making an entrance, but there are a distinct few who would kill from a crowd. And there are those who are not villains in the distinct, identity sense, but would wreak havoc nonetheless.

So she scans the mall’s sheltered internal colonnade from behind her sunglasses, and listens to her daughter tell her about her day.

“- I just told him that I’d come from further South, and he didn’t ask me any more questions after that, but then freaking Brad asked me if I was an ‘illegal’ and I know what you mean now, about temptation to cram people into lockers. He’s lucky he’s so tall; I couldn’t fold him up to fit without taking some limbs off.”

Alexandria huffs, taking an aggressive pull from her milkshake. The stress of her life is getting to her - no teenager should have worry lines, or bags under their eyes that deep - but she insists this is what she wants. Even if Minerva sometimes wonders whether Alexandria sees herself as a member of the school’s attendees, or just a spectator who sometimes catches a stray ball.

“Did you tell Brad that?” Minerva asks mildly, mostly curious.

Alexandria sighs again, “No.” She says sullenly, shoulders slumping. “I asked him if he thought the government should determine who gets to live where, and then when he started to argue with me I told him I hoped his yacht sank with him on it.”

“Alexandria.” Minerva was still learning to find the right tone. The right amount of reproach, without exasperation or accusation. She must’ve gotten close, because Alexandria just lifts one hand in a ‘not me’ gesture.

“Specifically so he’d wash up in Mexico or Hawaii and get to be illegal himself.” She clarifies. “I don’t think that convinced anyone I wasn’t an immigrant, though. Til Seanna pointed out my grades in Spanish would probably be better.”

Minerva’s sigh is more restrained, but she points out, “There are other languages in South America. Brazilian Portuguese, for example.”

She’s not sure why she’s entertaining this, really.

“That’s true.” Alexandria ponders that for a moment, drinking more of her milkshake. “I mostly just meant to imply I was from one of the towns that got fu- uhhhh, screwed up by the power grabs.”

Minerva briefly leaves the conversation, remembering that shell of a place. The layouts, the dressings of a town, not quite abandoned yet but with nothing else to bleed.

Judging by the nudge she receives under the table, Alexandria isn’t totally oblivious to her distraction. She’s also changed the subject.

“So.�� Alexandria is saying, drawing one syllable into three, “How are you and my godparent getting along?”

‘Godparent’ has become Alexandria’s favored way of referring to Synovus in public. It’s a joke on multiple levels, some of which Synovus seems to appreciate. But Minerva thinks it also makes them slightly uncomfortable, in a way they refuse to express to Alexandria.

“It’s fine.” Minerva replies, on rote. Her eyes flick to Alexandria, then back to the crowds. “What is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘what is it,’?”

“You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want something in particular.”

Alexandria’s mouth twists down, “Can I just get an answer without fishing for it, for once?”

Startled, Minerva looks at her again. Takes a better assessment of her daughter’s body language, the tension there. She knows she’s also gone tense.

Anger creeps into Alexandria’s voice, replacing the annoyance. “I’m not going to lose control. I’m not-“

She cuts herself off, abruptly looking away. Her fingers relax around the plastic cup, deliberately demonstrating that her strength won’t get away from her.

Minerva has a suspicion of how that sentence might have ended. I’m not like you and dad.

Reaching out physically feels like the wrong move here. So does stiffening up further and refusing to talk about it. Be better, she thinks to herself desperately, her mind flicking back to an image of a person with one foot in the water, one on dry land.

“We still… disagree, on some things. Some major things.” Minerva makes herself say. She still doesn’t like that Synovus kills people. She doesn’t like that Synovus has ostensibly killed for her, or for Alexandria. But she also feels relief that Synovus did, and a sense of gratitude she can’t quite smother. It makes her feel dirty, oily, and she hasn’t found it’s root.

Taking a breath, Minerva continues, “But… I don’t think they mean either of us harm.”

Alexandria has relaxed a little, absorbed by what Minerva’s saying. And probably having to pick through it for what she isn’t saying either.

“Would you say that you, I don’t know, maybe, trust them?” Alexandria prompts.

Minerva’s grimace is answer enough.

Alexandria sighs, “Mom.”

“It’s complicated, Alexandria.” She says, but it’s not the abrupt conversation-closer it would have once been. More… beseeching.

“Do you trust anyone?” Alexandria asks, “And like, I don’t even really mean me, here, but like. Anyone?”

Minerva remains silent.

“Do you trust yourself?” Alexandria asks, sounding a little alarmed.

Minerva hesitates - but she can’t really answer that one either.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, just the background roar of the mall’s crowds between them. Minerva hates this. She hates feeling like she can’t actually control herself, can’t master the emotional impulses she’s forcibly crammed into a box for years. She hates that Alexandria is having to pick up the conversation, make the overtures, do the work.

But any time she tries to think of a way to do it herself, her mind shies away from it. The words wilt and die in her throat. Because what if she gets it wrong?

What if she has more to lose?

Eventually, Alexandria looks at the melted remnants of her milkshake, and asks, “Can we stop at the Hot Topic before we leave.”

One day.

———————————

A week later, Rosie pokes her head into the common room Minerva’s reading in. “Minerva?”

She’d finally been asked point blank by one of them what she wanted to be called, because Athena no longer seemed accurate. Committing to Naiad hadn’t felt right either, so she’d given up her civilian name. Synovus already knew it, what was the point?

(It had occurred to her, later, that the small thrill she felt at being addressed by it was possibly what Alexandria felt at being addressed by her chosen name.)

(Also, it would’ve made Albion furious.)

“What is it?” Minerva asks now, letting one finger hold her place in the book as she sits up.

“There’s a fight drifting our way - Zephyr and a few others against the Eye. He’s made another floating platform again.” Rosie rolled her eyes, providing her professional opinion.

Minerva tilted her head, hesitating. Zephyr was a hero she’d worked with before, though they had never gotten along. He’d offered to take her flying, she’d taken that as flirting and shut it down, they’d never really overcome the resulting awkwardness. She had no idea who he’d be working with.

Eye, in contrast, was Eye in the Sky - a villain obsessed mostly with surveillance, and not being observed himself. He was a center point of several conspiracy theories involving the NRA, CIA, and a number of international organizations. She’d never fought him before, just heard the stories.

“What’s the protocol?” Minerva asks, rather than offer any of that information. She was certain this group of people knew far more about everyone involved anyway.

Rosie smiles, “Not much of one, just a lower alert status. Doll and I will make the rounds and check on everyone, Synovus is going to suit up just in case, but we won’t get involved unless territory agreements are breached.” She added, “Alexandria’s still on the mainland, we’ve made sure she knows to be suited if she makes her own way home.”

Minerva taps at the cover of her book, thinking. She feels adrift, still. This isn’t an actual fight, unless she wants to go and be Athena, and the idea of that is physically uncomfortable. It would also invite too many questions. Naiad would-

Hm. “Does Synovus want me in uniform?” She asks, sardonic.

“I didn’t ask and don’t plan to.” Rosie replies flippantly. “If they want you to do something, I imagine you’ll hear about it directly.”

Somehow, that isn’t the response she wants. “I don’t-“

“They also haven’t given any orders that you’re to be stopped.” Rosie points out, cutting her off. “The rest of us will be either in the operations room or up on the roof to watch. Klaxon if there’s trouble.”

She gave Minerva another smile, twiddled her fingers, and withdrew. Minerva shifted, and opened her book again.

She made it through two more paragraphs, then left it unceremoniously on the floor.

———————————-

On the roof, Synovus was pacing.

In a way, that’s reassuring, because even Minerva knew by now that if there was imminent danger, Synovus would be stock-still. The sun glints off the dark helmet, and threw the matte black of the rest of the suit into stark relief against the sandy-colored rooftop. Wind off the sea ripples through the cape, keeping it blown back, perpendicular to the path Synovus is walking.

The sun is kinder to Minerva’s costume, and there is no cape to blow. The dark mask helps keep her from being blinded by the sun. Athena wouldn’t be of much use here; Naiad might be.

Doll - the larger, Russian man who Minerva thought of as Synovus’s second in command - stood up here too, a viewfinder raised to cover his face. He’s looking into the direction of the wind, angled out and up, and Minerva follows that direction.

There it is - flashes of distant, shimmering silver in a cloud bank that’s thinning. Some masking device, most likely, now disabled. There’s tiny flashes of what must be powers or weaponry at use, but she can’t make out more than that.

“How bad is it?” She asks anyway, brisk and businesslike.

“The wind isn’t in our favor.” Doll comments. He’s always answered her as if she’s a coworker, and she appreciates that. “I can’t tell how much of it is powered and how much of it drifts. If there’s been damage to it -“ He lowers the viewfinder to make a hand gesture. “It might not be able to control its direction anymore.”

“Sloppy.” The comment is out of Minerva’s mouth before she can stop it. It draws Doll’s attention, if not Synovus’s. At the slightly raised eyebrow, she sighs and continues, “Disabling propulsion or navigation creates unnecessary risk to everyone involved. The only time it becomes necessary is when there’s weaponry that absolutely must be disabled, and you don’t have either the training or the time to sort out different power systems.”

Doll nods, offering her the viewfinder. “It could be self-inflicted,” he points out.

“Possible, but suicidal. That would require an exit strategy. Do you think Eye has one?”

“He’ll have three, only two of them will work, and none of them will be enough to keep him from getting captured.” Synovus breaks into the conversation abruptly, annoyed. Or perhaps professionally offended. “They’ll be personal craft.”

Meaning the rest of the platform’s crew would be left to die. Incentive for the heroes to try and rescue them rather than pursue, but what a waste.

The viewfinder lets Minerva get a better sense of the platform’s size, and also an estimate of its height and distance. She can make out a glimpse of a gray-shaded costume, diving through the clouds: Zephyr.

“If you interfere,” She asks, while her view is disconnected from her surroundings, “What would that look like?”

There’s a hesitation. A gust of wind snaps at Synovus’s cape. The distant battle continues.

“If they cross the boundaries, there must be consequences.” Synovus says reluctantly. “I will destroy the platform. Survivors will become my prisoners. If the heroes protest, I’ll fight them.”

Minerva lowers the viewfinder, and returns it to Doll. Synovus has stopped pacing. “You don’t have the facilities for a mass casualty event.”

“No.” Synovus agrees. “I don’t.”

————————————

Rosie has come out to join them on the roof by the time there’s significant change. The wind has died down some - likely a marker of Zephyr changing it, finally reaching their shores. The air feels thick and dead without it.

They’ve mostly stood in silence, watching. It feels longer than it has been, and Minerva knows it’ll be worse for those actually fighting. She’s surprised she hasn’t felt more of an urge to intervene.

Though she has been keeping watch for anyone falling to the water below.

It’s hard to say which of them notices first - their attention is collectively on the sky platform, and not each other. But there’s a decided tilt to the mostly-exposed metal monstrosity now, and in very short order, it begins to fall.

“Catch it.” Minerva finds herself murmuring. “Catch it. At least slow it-“

But no one does.

The platform hits the water at the full speed gained from a several thousand foot drop, slamming into the ocean. Those watching know that the metal will crumple on impact, water at that height and velocity worse than slamming into concrete. The surface area only makes it worse; tilted in at a slight angle, it displaces the water in a specific direction.

Towards the island.

Minerva had studied the ocean as much as she could. She knows this phenomena, and can cite times in the past it’s occurred. Not caused by the shifting of the ocean floor or tectonic plates, but by a sudden mass displacement.

They call it a super-tsunami.

Synovus is a statue beside her from the moment the platform starts to fall. Doll catches on once the surface of the water rises - and then doesn’t fall again.

“Three minutes.” Minerva calculates, based on distance and the probable speed of the wave. As many miles to cross. Much taller. “Evacuation?”

“The Jet is under repair, we can’t get it into the air in time.” Rosie answers, grim.

“Seals on the inner portions of the facility might hold, but we don’t know how long we’d be underwater.” Doll says, hitting the klaxon anyway. “The fridges?”

“Only as good as long as the power lasts.” Rosie replies. “Alexandria?”

“Still on the mainland.” Doll growls, running a hand through his hair. “Even if she could reach us in time, we’d have to get everyone onto the plane-“

Synovus has, so far, said nothing. Minerva is the only one close enough to catch when they choke out a strangled, “-fucking submarine -“

Minerva had expected Synovus to have a plan. A power, a strength, a defense mechanism. The realization that they don’t is like a fire’s been lit at the base of her spine.

She doesn’t remember grabbing Synovus’s collar, or dragging them to face her. She does remember saying, “I can stop it.”

Synovus doesn’t hesitate. “What do you need?”

There is no questioning of if she’s sure, or recommendation that she go into the waves to ride it out. No suggestion of running.

“Get me in front of it.”

Immediately, Synovus has one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and they’re running. Off the edge of the roof, not quite flying, flickers of shadow beneath their feet. Minerva doesn’t have time to question it, because her attention is on the big damn wave.

When she had said she could stop it, she had spoken with a bone-deep certainty. But she’d never actually tried to divert a tsunami before, let alone one of this size. The largest amount of water she’s worked with has always been as much as she needs to accomplish her goal, and nothing more. Diverting some rain-induced flooding is nothing compared to the power of the tides.

But she can feel the ocean beneath them, as Synovus clears the island’s coast. She can sense the oncoming wave, so fast to them, but to the ocean like a flinch in slow motion. The ocean doesn’t know how to control a fall.

But Minerva does.

The trick is in grasping the majority of the wave without over extending. She doesn’t need every droplet, every molecule, but she does need the vast majority of them.

It’s like trying to get a grip on something flat with only the pads of her fingers. It’s like misjudging a stair and finding herself both plummeting and ramming into an outside force. It’s like taking the first breath of rain-rich air in the early morning, and feeling life enter her lungs again.

Minerva twists the top back over itself, breaking the wave in the wrong direction. She cuts it down the middle, diverting it off to the sides. She forbids it to go forward, as though it’s met a cliff. And as the water falls, the wave collapsing, so does she.

It takes a brief second to put together that the body that had been holding her aloft is now limp, twisted slightly as though to put itself between her and the wave. Synovus is unresponsive, the shadows gone, only the cape whipping around them as they fall. Minerva is able to catch them, now, grabbing on before they can drift away.

She reaches for the water below them, calling it up to catch them with less than bone-breaking force. It’s easier, somehow, but also harder, and she’s having trouble fixing a direction in her mind for where the wave was and where the shore should be. Hot air, harsh wind, cool water and the dimming depths as they’re both drawn down.

And she remembers, finally, that Synovus can’t swim.

—————

The disorientation has mostly worn off by the time Synovus wakes up.

Minerva had managed to follow the upset currents, but hadn’t wanted to risk trying to shape and change them. Or to fight them overmuch, with her cargo. So they’d wound up washed not to shore, but to a small opening into one of the partial lava tubes at the island’s base.

Outside, saltwater rain is still falling, though it will stop soon. The ocean’s roar sounds, to her ears, slightly confused. The sun is still shining, and the wind has picked up again. ‘Calm’ is a subjective definition, but they’re approaching it.

Minerva had been relieved to find that Synovus’s helmet was intact, even with the impact to the water. She’d managed to find its clasps, and to remove it, making sure the seals had also held and that Synovus wasn’t drowning in their own personal fishbowl. They’re propped up against her legs, which are folded beneath her, and she’s prepared for a violent awakening.

But Synovus’s eyes blink open, and Minerva is able to watch their facial muscles work as they come to terms with their surroundings.

“You fainted.” Minerva informs them.

Synovus squints at her, but doesn’t immediately protest. They also don’t try to move much, other than a slight squirm that Minerva recognizes as a full body check. Do I still have my appendages? Do my fingers and toes all work?

“Yeah.” Synovus concedes. Their voice is raspy with saltwater, even though they didn’t get much of a chance to drown. This time.

Minerva should probably start somewhere else - like making certain they’re okay, or assuring them about the conditions outside, that the wave had been averted. Instead, she all but demands, “If you’re so terrified of water, why in the hells did you build on an island?”

She can see the balk in Synovus’s expression: a furrowing of their brow, a twitch of the nose. Synovus lifts a hand to consider covering their face, eyes the sand on their glove, and lowers it again.

“I already know you can’t swim.” Minerva says flatly.

“I can swim.” Synovus shoots back, annoyed. “I cannot swim well, there’s a difference.”

They sigh, and move to sit up. Minerva doesn’t stop them. She doesn’t expect an answer, at least not without further prompting, but Synovus continues:

“It’s… easier. The isolation. Clearly defined borders. This is mine, everyone else fuck off. And it…” Synovus shakes their head. “It serves its purpose.”

Once, Minerva would’ve accused them of grandstanding. Of the island being a show of wealth and status. She knows better now - knows that while that is true, there’s other reasons, layered beneath.

And she thinks about everything Synovus has ever told her about self control.

“It contains you.”

Synovus hesitates, partially grimacing, but nods. “Serves its purpose.” They repeat quietly.

The two of them sit in silence, in the dark shadow of the cave. They listen to the water, and the waves as they return to normal.

“Thank you.” Synovus says, into the silence.

“I don’t require thanks.”

“But I feel you deserve it, and it’s mine to give.”

“And if I don’t want it?”

“Refuse it. I will survive the disappointment.”

Minerva has the uncomfortable feeling that they are not discussing only gratitude. Rather than address that, or continue the discussion, she says instead: “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Synovus doesn’t reply. They tilt their head, studying her in the dark. Minerva’s dragged them into a cave and confronted them with truths after they passed out from fear doing something on her word, she should give them a break. She doesn’t.

“I should be out there looking for survivors, or recovering the dead. I don’t want to. I should’ve involved myself in the fight, reminded them to be careful of the platform’s vulnerabilities. I didn’t. I don’t feel guilt. I feel… annoyed. Angry. Because they should’ve known better.”

Synovus just turns a bit, to rest their back against a rock. “And that in turn makes you feel..?”

“Foolish. Arrogant. A bad hero, and a worse teacher. I should be patient. Forgiving.”

“They nearly killed you.” Synovus points out dryly. “You’re allowed to be angry about that.”

“And more would’ve died if the wave had reached the coast.” Minerva grits her teeth. “But that anger should be - I can’t control them. I cannot fix them. But I didn’t even try to intervene until it was almost too late.”

“But you did intervene.”

Minerva gestures, attempts to pinpoint the logic fruitless and frustrated. “Am I a hero or not?” She demands. “Do I act for others or only my own skin? I’ve spent years - decades - so sure of the answer but now -“

She raises her hands, half-fisting them in her hair. The sensation provides a little bit of grounding, enough of a distraction she doesn’t think about the words before she says them. “- now you make sense to me, and the things I thought I believed in enough to die for are - are hollow or gone or dead. And I let you kill them. I let you kill him.”

Abruptly, she draws her knees up, burying her face in them. “I let - I made - my child - our child -“

Minerva can’t tell if she’s crying or not. Her breath is coming in gasps, and her face feels hot, and this was always the part of weeping that she hated the most; the lack of control, the inability to communicate. Her eyes burn. So does the center of her chest, her stomach.

And Synovus is here, as her witness. Why not? They’ve seen every other ugly part of her, every other failure. She’s spent a good portion of her adult life fighting this person, exchanging scars, only for them to pick up the pieces and try to protect her. She’s finally had the upper hand, proven that she does have power, that Synovus now owes her in the brutal calculus of lives, and instead of reassuring her it’s broken her.

Because Synovus doesn’t trust themself either.

But Synovus trusts her.

“Do you wish I wouldn’t have killed Albion?” Synovus asks quietly.

The answer is as simple and certain as the water. “No.” She says honestly. “No I - I don’t.”

There’s a pause. Then, “Do you wish I would’ve killed you too?”

That answer isn’t as clear to find. “I - some days.” She says hoarsely. “I committed the same crimes.”

Synovus exhales, across from her, and it isn’t quite a sigh. “Alexandria feels differently.”

Minerva stops breathing.

Of all the answers Synovus could’ve given, that’s the one she can’t counter. She can’t afford to do this. To wallow in self recrimination. Her daughter is out there. And while maybe - maybe her morals are falling to pieces, and she doesn’t know who she is, but she knows that whoever she is loves Alexandria.

“Is it pathetic?” She asks Synovus, in the dark she can’t see through and Synovus can. “To need someone else to determine who I am. What I believe.”

She can hear the twist in Synovus’s expression as they reply, “That’s… inherently not a question I can answer. But, Minerva?” Synovus doesn’t hesitate, so much as pick their way across uncertain footing, “I don’t think you would’ve been able to turn back that wave if you weren’t… as much as you are.”

It’s clumsily phrased. Wavering and uncertain. But Minerva, whether because she’s reading what she wants to from it, or because it’s actually Synovus’s intention, understands.

She takes a deep breath. Then another. Then she stands, and offers a hand in Synovus’s general direction. Her voice is much more certain, calm, when she says, “I need to go organize a search party.”

——————

Minerva may not ever come to terms with her role in her ex-husband’s death, or the harm she caused her daughter. She might not ever find the rock-solid beliefs that she once thought she had.

But she might - just might - come to terms with that uncertainty. The ocean doesn’t have roots either.

She’ll have good days and bad days. She’ll need to make decisions about who she wants to become, and how she feels about who she is. But as both Naiad, and Minerva, she has that freedom.

She’ll never touch the Athena costume again.

And one day, while she’s working on a laptop in one of the common rooms, Synovus on one of the other couches and Alexandria sprawled on the floor, Minerva will say, “I have an idea. Something I’d like to do about the Pacific garbage patch.”

And Alexandria will roll over to look at her, and Synovus will glance up. And Minerva will add, “It’s not precisely legal.”

And Synovus will say, “I’m listening.”

——————————

[And so ends Siren Call! This took much longer than it’s other pieces, and there were things I debated including and things I wanted to cut, but in the end, this was the flow the story took. I’m not saying I’m *done* with Synovus and co, but I will say that I’m glad to have this chapter closed and tied off.]

[As per usual, a copy of this will go up on Ao3 soon, and I’ll find out how long it is, because I’ve once again written directly into tumblr drafts. It’s where the Synovus muse lives, apparently.]

#synoverse #synovus #siren call #siren call 3 #tw: tsunami #as someone whose stress dreams manifest as dreams about tsunamis #HOO BOY did I not like writing that scene much #but it was what needed to happen #and I’m happy with how it turned out #dont @ me about the physics I will not be studying any more about those damn things #it’s magic I ain’t gotta explain shit

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just-some-user-hunny · 1 year ago

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Pino taking care of a sick reader...

~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~

~ Alright for starters, Pino has very little knowledge on illnesses, but he's seen first hand of what the plague has done to the last few remaining people in Krat. He's witnessed the fleeting hope in their voices, and the pain in their coughs, so the moment he picks up on even the slightest wheeze or cough from you he's in shock.

~ You'll have a hovering mother hen of a puppet clung to you protectively. He is genuinely terrified for you, thoughts of having to witness your last breaths strikes him to his very core.

~ It's only when kind Sophia, or his father geppetto, explain to him that thankfully all you have is a cold, that he finally eases up. You can heal. You'll be ok, you're safe. Those are the things that repeat over and over in his mind. You're far too precious for him to lose.

~ Don't even think about getting out of bed. The moment Pino spots you loitering around in your pyjamas, you'll earn a stern look from the taller puppet, his gaze focused on you as he makes his way over to you. No amount of assurances will cease his protectiveness, and at once you're swept away in his arms back up to your room.

(Just Sophia softly chuckling as she sees pino walk past with you cradled in his arms securely, offering a little apologetic yet amused look as you pout a little at the puppets assertiveness)

~ He'll dutingly remain by your side whilst you recover as well. He'll fluff the pillows of your bed and help you climb in, tucking you in comfortably as he sits by your bedside and stays. He's like a guard dog in a way, refusing to leave your side until you're alright again. You may hold and play with his hand, pull him into bed besides you so you may lean on him as you read. Pino will fulfill any wish as long as you agree to rest.

If you try to get up unnecessarily, he'll subdue you to lay back down again with kisses and hugs. Just being hugged to lay down as he tucks his heavy head into your neck, light kisses pressed into the clammy skin of your jaw and shoulder as he tries to convince you to just lay and cuddle with him instead :((

~ Thankfully, Pino cannot catch what you have, so he uses that advantage to be as cuddly and affectionate as he wants. Cold porcelain lips traveling over the expanse of your clammy forehead, his head of dark soft chestnut hair splayed against your pillow as he gives you sticky-cough syrup kisses to your lips.

(He'll pout if you push him away. Why? It's not that gross). He'll look at you like a kicked puppy after that.

~ His legion hand is a little cold, so if you have a temperature he'll gently press his palm to your forehead to cool you down, using his thumb to lightly soothe little comforting circles into your temple to ease any pain.

~ Pino will crawl in beside you if that is what you want. Stepping out of his shoes, he'll shuffle himself beneath the covers and tuck himself besides you- close enough for you to feel the comforting presence of him, but also far away enough for you to tuck yourself closer if that is what you wish.

He'll sit up a little with his face rested against his propped up hand, watching you sleep. His expression soft, but troubled.

(Also he may have a habit where he subtly tries to feel for your pulse 💀 you sleep so soundly it makes him a little concerned. Yes, he is that dramatic)

~ He's a little over-protective of you when you're in this state, so he'll take the tray of food out of polandina's hands and take it to you himself.

(Ok but pino spoon-feeding you soup when you're too tired and shaky to do it yourself :( he's very attentive and gentle when doing so as well)

~ Overall, he's just extra cuddly and protective of you when you're sick. It's only when you've recovered does the worried knit in his brow disappear, and he's his usual Pino self

#lies of p pinocchio x reader #lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p x you #hope this helps with anyone who's gotten sick lately 🥲

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sodapopwrites · 1 month ago

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a ballad of flame and shadow part four

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

summary - When she falls into another length of darkness after the events of Calanmai, her, lucien, and azriel all look back on past memories.

word count - 3.5k

a/n - oh my god. this is a long one and azriel is so down bad. i'm so sorry. i love writing him pining and upset and not knowing how to deal with his feelings. i swear it'll get happier. not soon maybe. but eventually. also shout out to the rest of the inner circle who have to deal with these two's bullshit.

read the rest of the series here!

“She doesn’t want it”

His stubborn words to Cassian interrupted his every thought. There was a strange truth to them.

“He doesn’t want this. Not now.”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that. It wasn’t for him. But the confession in her words haunted his every movement. It was her truth that she had disguised as his. She couldn’t do this. Not now. He was right. In some sense he was right when he told Cassian she didn’t want the bond. He tried to relish in that. In that small victory over Cassian. But it never stuck.

When. When. When. When.

It was all he could think. When would it be okay to tell her? When would the weight of it not crush her? When her brother returned? If he ever did. It had been too long. Rhysand had been gone for far too long. He feared that the damage done between them was something even the high lord couldn’t fix.

In the days after Calanmai she had tried. Tried to go back to whatever normal her and Azriel had built. Tried to continue to let herself sleep in his arms. Tried to let his easy warmth spread through her. But she couldn’t. Not when that golden thread threatened to snap in place every time she drew too close to him. Not when she let herself once again fall into a spiral of guilt.

“It wasn’t enough”

Lucien's rage followed her back to Velaris. His curse a weight on her shoulders. A burden she unnecessarily chose to bear. And Azriel watched as she let darkness consume her just as she had done when Amarantha had first taken over. He knew that darkness well. He was forged from it. He let her withdraw from him and he let himself be consumed by memories of before.

Starfall the year before Rhysand had gone under the mountain. The year before Amarantha’s party.

Azriel’s gaze had not left her once since she entered the room. Her dress, a blue so dark it was almost black, sparkled with a thousand cobalt diamonds, they hung from her dress like glittering drops of rain. He tried not to think too hard about the color choice. Tried not to notice that the diamonds draping her form glittered the same blue as the siphon laid over the center of his chest. Tried not to wonder if it was a conscious decision on her part. Her hair flowed down her back in a cascade of midnight curls. He watched her eyes glitter, reflecting the light of the stars twisting through the sky above. Everything about her effervescent, bright with life. He wanted to drown in it. Instead he held himself back. In a corner of the room. Let his shadows curl around his chest protectively. He stopped himself from going to her, from reaching out to her. Her eyes finally found his, twinkling with a mischief that sent sparks through his entire body. His shadows circled tighter.

She crossed the room and stopped in front of him, smiling like she knew a secret she wanted desperately to tell him.

“Why is it that during every party I always find you skulking in some corner?”

A smile played at the corners of her lips as he shrugged half heartedly.

To keep myself from pulling you into the nearest room and consuming you whole. That’s what he wanted to say. But instead he held his facade of indifference. It didn’t deter her this time though.

“You’re too beautiful to hide yourself away you know.”

She was teasing. It was clear enough that she was teasing. It had to be. But when he held her gaze for a moment too long after her compliment she blushed and sipped her drink in an attempt to hide the flush of her cheeks. Maybe there was some truth to it.

“More beautiful than me?”

Cassian’s voice cut through the tension of the moment. Azriel had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes at his friend's intrusion. Instead he scoffed and received an offended look from the Illyrian general.

“Aw Cass. You’re pretty too.”

Now that was teasing. She laughed as Cassian clasped his hands over his chest as if he’d been stabbed.

“Why is he beautiful and I’m pretty?”

“At least I didn’t call you the funny one”

Cassian rolled his eyes.

“I am the funny one”

Azriel’s eyes flitted between the pair in front of him. Slightly amused.

“I’m funny”

His voice was soft and only a little defensive. Cassian let a hand fall to his brother's shoulder and offered him a look laced with mock sympathy.

“Oh Azriel. You are many things but funny is not one of them.”

She tried to muffle her snort in another sip of her drink. Azriel looked to her, asking for some sort of defense. She gave in immediately.

“Maybe you’re just not bright enough to pick up on the subtleties of Azriel’s humor.”

Cassian scoffed at her comment and looked her up and down, “Nice dress. Those diamonds.” He let out a low whistle before sparing a quick glance at Azriel’s siphons, “They look awfully familiar.”

Azriel watched her closely. Waiting for her response with a new found intensity. She only shrugged before saying,

“I like blue.”

Cassian’s eyes were filled with mirth as he watched the shadow singer's eyes rake over her body, over the glittering diamonds. He knew exactly what Azriel was wondering, he was wondering it himself.

“Any particular reason why?”

He was baiting her. If there was one thing Cassian loved to do, it was bait the pair before him into a conversation about their unspoken feelings for eachother. She brushed the question off and turned entirely away from Cass, looking now only at Azriel.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request. Azriel pushed himself off the wall and let himself take the hand she had outstretched to him. He let her lead him to the dance floor. Let himself wrap his arms around her and hold her closer than he ever should have. He let her wrap her arms around his neck. Her fingers playing gently with the hair at the nape of his neck. The touch sent a shiver down his spine. He swayed them gently to the music and only let himself look away from her once. He saw Cassian and Rhysand watching the two of them dance, snickering to themselves. He shot them a quick glare before returning his focus to her entirely.

“What is the reason why?”

His question came out as a hoarse whisper. It sounded much more desperate than he meant it to. She looked up at him. Knowing he was asking the same question Cassian had asked moments ago. She let her eyes fall to the siphons adoring him, and then back up to his face. She gave him a small smile.

It was the only answer she could let herself give. The only answer that didn’t outright tell him she searched for small pieces of him everywhere. In every color, in every star, in every scent and feel. She searched for small pieces of him to carry with her. The only bits of him she ever dared to allow herself.

Azriel's eyes were closed. Clamped shut. Trying desperately to hold onto that memory. He shouldn’t let himself look back, not after those days had been gone for so long. But he had to. It was all he could do to keep himself from following her into the endless haunting night she had resigned herself to.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

Lucien had grown quiet and more brooding since his encounter with her at Calanmai. He sat down at the sprawling lunch table with Tamlin. The high lord of Spring court’s gaze was fixed on his friend. He stared at him with a nervous concern.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Lucien looked at him blankly before shaking his head.

“You’ve been sulking for months, ever since the Rite, you’ve been just…”

Lucien continued to stare at him.

“...Well dare I say unpleasant.”

Lucien sighed deeply. He pushed his food around his plate before responding,

“Too bad you’re stuck with me forever. Or until Amarantha finally decides to kill us.”

Tamlin let out a low growl. His patience stretched thin by the ginger’s foul mood. By Lucien’s lack of hope for their situation. Lucien bristled at the sound of it and stood up, excusing himself from the meal, and walking briskly out of the dining room. He made his way back to his room and sat on the corner of his bed. He let his head fall into his hands and he rubbed at his eyes.

Regret flooded through him. Regret at the way he had reacted to smelling the shadow singer on her. Regret at the way he had made his resentment all too clear to her. Regret that he hadn’t embraced her or kissed her while he had a chance. He wanted it all back now. Everything they had before.

She had come to him the evening after Starfall under some pretense of work. She always came to him as if they had something serious to discuss, and she always let it devolve into an easy flirtation.

They lay beneath a willow tree, far from the manor, so no one would know of her presence. Lucien propped himself up on one arm to look at her. She was bathed in the orange light of sunset. Her eyes closed and her breathing slow, as if she was sleeping. His hand came to the side of her face and he slid it from her face, down her neck, and to let it rest on her shoulder. He traced lazy circles across her skin, letting his fingers swirl farther across her skin, over her collar bones and dangerously lower. She hummed at his soft touch and opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring you”

She smiled. The expression almost sad. Her eyes searching his so deeply it was like she was almost looking for someone else. He didn’t let it faze him. That expression was one she held often, and he chalked it up to having to hold the secret of the exact nature of their meetings. He cleared his throat.

“So what exactly is the business you had to discuss with me?”

His tone was light and careless as he leaned closer to her, waiting for her response.

“Mmm. You know I can’t really remember”

He let a wicked grin spread across his features, “Oh no?” His hand traveled farther down her body and she arched into his touch.

“Must not have been important.”

Her voice wavered as his hand continued its exploration. He brought his lips to hers. She chased him as he pulled away and there was a clear amusement in his tone as he said,

“How disappointed your brother would be.”

She tried not to recoil at the statement, “Interesting time to bring up my brother.”

“I’m just so sure he’d hate what this meeting has devolved into.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

She pulled him back to her lips, trying to kiss away every mention of her family. Of her complete lack of professionalism. Guilt laced her every movement against him.

God maybe she had been right. It was all he could think. Maybe she had been right. When was he ever not concerned about her family? About where she came from? Why else would he be so secretive about his affections for her? It wasn’t fair to her. To hold that over her. But he never seemed to be able to help it. That deep seated mistrust of the night court and all it held. Those it held.

He wanted it all back. He wanted her back. Maybe he could let it be different. Maybe he wouldn't have treated every moment with her like a distraction from her. From what she was. Who she was.

He pushed his palms further into his eyes. The sharp pain of it sent some relief. An escape from memory.

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She stopped herself from seeking Azriel out constantly. Stopped herself from going to his room when nightmares sent her hurtling from sleep. Stopped herself from going to dinner just to sit next to him. Instead she spent her days traipsing to Amren’s apartment, much to the general annoyance of the silver eyed female. Or training with Cassian. She avoided Mor with everything she had. Not wanting to answer the golden haired female’s questions. Always about Azriel. Always about why she wouldn’t just tell him what he meant to her.

She couldn’t let herself deal with it.

She sat in a plush chair that resided in the corner of Amren’s apartment. Amren was reading some ancient text and ignoring her as best she could.

She sighed. It was probably the fourth time she had let a gust of breath fall past her lips, all too audibly.

“Oh good lord. What?”

Amren’s voice was laced with annoyance.

“Nothing”

“Just go talk to him”

“No”

“Stubborn girl”

She looked at Amren, opening her mouth to spew some defensive excuse. Amren spoke before she could.

“So Calanmai didn’t yield the results you hoped for?”

It was the first time anyone had brought that night up to her. She curled into herself now. Amren narrowed her eyes,

“What exactly were you expecting from him?”

“I don’t know”

“What did you want from him?”

She thought about it. What did she want from Lucien? What did she want to happen when she snuck off to the bonfires of Spring Court.

“Comfort”

Amren clicked her tongue and shook her head waiting for the high lord's sister to try a different response. A more honest one.

“Fine. Not comfort.” She paused, “Distraction I guess.”

Amren gave her a small nod, “From Azriel.”

Not a question. A statement. One that made her raise her hands in defense and shake her head.

“No. From everything. From…from everything.”

Amren studied the girl before her. Her gaze held the truth. It was a distraction from Azriel. A small use of the fox to distract her from the golden pull she feared so deeply.

“What exactly are you so afraid of?”

Amren’s voice was softer now, her best attempt to be sympathetic.

“That he only wants me now because soothing some part of my pain, of my guilt, lessens his own.”

“Are you really so blind?”

She seemed a little surprised by Amren’s question. She quirked an eyebrow waiting for her friend to continue.

“He doesn’t only want you now. Use your brain for once. Look past the darkness of the last few years and let yourself remember.”

That was all Amren said before turning back to her book, shutting her out once more.

Let yourself remember.

When she returned from Spring Court, the day after Starfall. When she had slid into her seat beside Rhys at the dinner table. She avoided eye contact with everyone as she always did when she returned from a tryst with Lucien. She tried to make herself small enough that no one would notice her. It didn’t work. It never did.

“Any news from Spring Court?”

Rhysand kept his tone even. But asking the question simply to remind her that he knew exactly what she had been up to. He watched her deflate a little before lifting her head to respond to him,

“Oh you know. Roses in bloom. Flowers….Usual spring stuff.”

Cassian let out a small laugh at her lame attempt to play it off. Mor narrowed her eyes,

“Spring stuff?”

The judgment in Mor’s tone was evident.

“Yeah spring stuff.”

She started to eat. Still avoiding the gaze of everyone. Especially the shadow encircled male sitting at the end of the table. But Mor pushed the subject further.

“Why him?”

She shrugged. Really not wanting to talk about this.

“Why not one of your own?”

She looked up at this. Stared at Mor’s implication.

“One of my own?”

She didn’t miss the way Rhysand’s eyes flickered towards Azriel. Didn’t miss the way Azriel shifted in his seat and let his shadows unfurl, hiding him somewhat from her sight. The insinuation simmered in her stomach as she shook her head and continued eating. But after a moment of silence, a moment where everyone’s eyes were still on her she said,

“The only people I’m ever around are you guys.”

It was Cassian that spoke up now,

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

There was humor in his voice, as there always was when everyone ganged up on her. A small part of him enjoyed watching her squirm. Okay a large part of him.

“Not a bad thing. Just a vaguely annoying one.”

She stood up from the table, not able to bear it anymore. The judgment. The way Azriel wouldn’t look at her. Everytime she came back wreaking of Autumn and flame, he couldn’t bear to look at her. Couldn’t bear to be more than a couple feet away from her. As if he didn’t want to even be near the faint whisper of someone else on her skin.

She swept out of the dining room and shut herself in her room. She ran a bath. Scrubbing herself of any trace of Lucien Vanserra. She let the warm water encompass her. She sank into it. Letting her head sink beneath the surface. She held herself under water.

The way Azriel’s shadows came around him in a shield of defense everytime anyone mentioned their names in the same sentence together. The way his eyes lingered on her when he smiled, as if her joy could prolong his. The way he trailed close behind her like he wanted her every footstep to be filled with his own.

She couldn’t breathe. She let the thought of him consume her. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want her. He didn’t want her. A chant. A reassurance.

She’d been in love with him for too long. She’d wanted him for too long to no avail.

He was too beautiful. Too powerful. Too important. He didn’t want her. He was too loyal. He wanted her happiness the same way he wanted Rhysands. He didn’t want her. He wanted to serve his highlord and he wanted to keep the inner circle safe. That was why he guarded her. He didn’t want her.

She couldn’t breathe.

She rose from the water. Taking deep calming breaths.

A short knock came at the door of her bedroom. She closed her eyes bracing herself for some dull and vaguely mocking lecture on taking her duties more seriously from Rhysand. She wrapped her robe around her and headed for the door.

It was not Rhysand. When she swung open the door. Azriel stood before her. He took in her wet hair and the way the robe clung to her damp skin. He swallowed once. Refusing to let his eyes drift from her face. She cocked her head in question. He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her.

A necklace. A thread thin silver chain with a small cobalt diamond dangling from it.

She stared at it. She remembered her dress from the night before. Remembered the way his eyes lingered on the dangling gems. Remembered the soft questioning of their color. She looked up at him, at the shining cobalt siphons he always wore.

She gently took it from his outstretched hand letting it dangle from her fingertips. A small piece of him…from him. Offered up willingly.

“I uhm” His voice was low. Nervous even. “I thought you’d like it”

He didn’t want her. He didn’t want her. The chant racing through her mind as she tried to come up with something to say. Instead she looked back down at the stone of the necklace. No. Not stone. The same glass that made up the siphon on his chest, on his hands, on his shoulders. A small piece of him.

A nod was all she could muster.

She was still looking anywhere but at him. He cursed himself silently. Maybe this was stupid. Giving her this. Maybe it was too much. Too obvious. But as he watched her leave the dining room. As he let Mor’s comment about her settling with one of her own and Rhysand’s immediate look towards him sink in. He had to do it. As soon as dinner ended he had excused himself and had retrieved the necklace that he had been saving for her. That he had debated giving to her for years now. He had let his feet carry him to her room. Had decided that he had to try. To give her some wordless notion of his feelings.

He pulled the necklace from her fingers and motioned for her to turn around. She did so without question. She let him lay it around her neck, let him clasp it, let him brush his fingers so so briefly through her hair.

She looked towards Amren once more. Letting her words wash over her again at the memory.

“He doesn’t only want you now. Use your brain for once. Look past the darkness of the last few years and let yourself remember.”

Maybe he had always wanted her. The thought made her pale. She shoved the feeling of the golden thread in her chest down. She couldn't do this. Couldn't let herself hope when everything seemed so hopeless.

When?

She didn't know.

#azriel x reader #acotar #lucien vanserra x reader #cassian acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #rhysand #morrigan acotar #bat boys #amren acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #night court #the inner circle #a court of thorns and roses #azriel angst #azriel x oc #azriel x you

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qin-qin16 · 3 months ago

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Wonder what it would feel like to have a soul bond with Ut sans someday, like- the fact that he trust someone enough to actually considering doing that is so wholesome.

Kinda wanna see how would he act when he realized he want to make a soul bond with reader, would he doubt himself? Would he just act on it? Would he just reassuring himself that maybe now is not the perfect time yet? There's just so many questions about how would he act on the situation makes me almost questioning myself lol.

I swear I love him so bad I wanna give him a smooch until can't think of the surrounding fiwhdlaizi2dnsoxgwxjayx

cw.: Sans x Reader, gn!reader, thoughts about soul bond, he is just a bit shy and anxious, fluff…

note: I didn't know if you just wanted my opinion or a oneshot, so I decided to write a little scene about it, hope you like it :D and I just realized that I never write for him before! Poor UT Sans.

He was always lazy — at work, with his puns, and even in his relationship with you -, but you didn’t seem to mind it. It had a certain domestic charm in a way.

However, he was being a little selfish in wanting a part of yourself just for him — a bit of your soul to bond with his forever. Yet, how could he express this to you? Do you even understand how precious and intimate this is?

Sans didn’t remember seeing anything like that in human culture; the closest comparison was marriage, but even that didn’t quite match the depth of soul bonding - and was unnecessarily expensive too.

He tilts his head down, weary from thinking so hard about this. His weight seems to sink into the old couch, still tense with all the little engines working in his mind. You love him, right? So why the hesitation? Why is he so worried about your reaction? Is he afraid you might reject him?

No, you would never reject it — at least, not in the harsh way he imagined. You were kind and considerate, not someone who would cruelly laugh at his words.

“See? I told you I could match your lazy style!” He lifts his skull to you, seeing your figure appear in the doorway of your shared room — wearing one of his old blue coats and a black-stained shirt underneath.

Your proud smile in such a silly conquest made his own widen, finding your effort to amuse him funny.

“Well, I guess I’m not the only lazy bones around now.” He couldn’t resist the chuckle that escaped through his teeth when you snickered.

I can think about that later, Sans thinks as you come closer, your lips now pressed together but still showing traces of the wide smile from before.

However, he knows he can’t be lazy about this — especially when his own soul cries out whenever you're far away. I can think about that later, he repeats in his mind as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him again.

For now, he is content with the domestic life you share, mostly because he can almost feel your soul’s joyful rhythm against his chest whenever you’re in his arms.

#sans x reader #sans x you #sans x yn #sans #undertale #qinqin stuff 💖

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ilikecrowns · 1 year ago

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Rainy days

Grace Clinton x f!Reader

After a hard training session, there’s nothing more that Grace wants to do than have a coffee date with her best friend. After an unexpected spell of rain, the two friends realise something slightly more than platonic may be between them

based on this request here

warnings- fluff fluff fluff!!

1.2k words

this is my first fic on here so please be nice 😁

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“Ewwwww Grace get off me!” I yell, jokingly shoving off my best friend after she wrapped her strong arms around my shoulders.

“What, you don’t like the smell of success?” Her lips formed a cheeky smirk, as she kept her arms wide open, ready for my ‘loving embrace’.

Instead of succumbing to her whim, I rolled my eyes and starting packing up my stuff. Watching her train was always enjoyable, especially because she was so unbelievably competitive on the pitch. That probably explains her unnecessarily overprotective actions she floods me with when we are out in public.

I catch the sight of Alessia Russo, her England teammate and close friend, and give her a warm smile and soft wave.

I knew Grace so well that I could practically write her whole life and every action before it even happened, and therefore her little scoff and pout was too easy to see coming. “Don’t worry Grace, you can take your best friend for coffee now, I won’t keep you long. Plus Tooney and I are going out tonight so I’ve got to rush off.” She giggled at her younger friend’s reaction, and then picked up her stuff to leave.

“You know you’re my number one, Gracie girl.” I tried my best to make up for my ‘behaviour’, as Grace would say. However, I think I was just being nice!

Taking her arm in mine (after Grace cleaned herself up and changed), we made our way to our favourite café. It was only a five minute walk away from Grace’s apartment, which made it all the more easy to attend at least once a week after her training.

We sat down at our usual table, we both enjoyed sitting outside and watching the world go by. I ordered a frappuccino and muffin, whilst she ordered a plain coffee and croissant.

“So, star girl, how’s camp going so far?” I know she’s confident and cocky, but I can also tell when Grace is struggling. She tends to not show it on the outside, as she doesn’t want anyone to think of her as weak. I know the truth though, and seeing my best friend in pain is the worst type of feeling.

I could see her visibly tense up at the mention of camp, but her strong front didn’t stay for long. She knew she could trust me.

“Honestly, not great. I cant believe i’m here, playing with the best of the best. Like, Mary Earps is our goalkeeper, for gods sake! And did you see that trick Chloe did in training today? And, and, how on earth can Niamh and Hempo run that fast? I have no idea how I managed to get here!’ After softly nodding my head and taking Grace’s hand in mine, I take a deep breath.

“Love, you’re the best footballer i’ve ever seen. At least, to me you are. Do you know why? You’re so young, and yet you have so much talent! Your pace is incredible and your finishes are out of this world. I promise you one day, Gracie, you’ll see what I and the rest of England sees too. You’re here for a reason.”

I can tell my words meant something to her, as the once creased brow softened into her adorable puppy dog face, and her eyes dropped to where our hands were intertwined on the metal table.

As soon as she opened her mouth to share words of gratitude, the rain started.

It’s gentle pitter patter eventually grew to a heavy crash, and before either of us could have time to properly think of the next course of action, Grace stood up and grabbed my arm, propping her hood up.

I was now shivering as the cold rain trickled down my spine, my thin jumper not doing much to keep me warm or covered.

After running a few paces to a tree for a little breath of air, Grace noticed my lack of cover. Without notice, she tore her own coat off, draping it gently across my shoulders, focusing on covering every part of my shivering torso.

I gratefully smile, and stare into her deep blue eyes, enjoying this moment of joy and serenity, despite the harsh weather conditions.

This time I am the one to initiate movement, and I do so by hastily grabbing her now soaking wet hand and placing it in mine, and then start the fast run to Grace’s apartment. We didn’t have to tell eachother where we wanted to go, as it was fairly obvious.

Once we’d reached the entrance to her home, my shivering hands unlocked the white door. I had a key, of course.

“I hope my croissant doesn’t get too lonely and wet out there,” Grace jokes, making sure to rip off her top layer- an england jumper- from her body as soon as she step foot into her clean, warm home.

I laugh, making sure to take off her coat and place it onto a drying rack in the bathroom.

“If only you ran that fast during practice, Grace, you might just beat me in a race!” I joke, knowing she wouldn’t take it to heart. It was a common known fact that I couldn’t run to save my life, and therefore the wide grin on my face was wiped off as she wrapped her arms around me, and lifted me into the air.

“Oh yeah, what was that? Beat me in a race? Not in your dreams, love,” my grin was then matched by the taller girl with her strong arms clutching my waist, still keeping me in the air with ease. I made it slightly easier for her, by wrapping my legs around her hips, ensuring I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Bold of you to assume you’re in my dreams, Gracie girl.” I giggled, before tucking a stray bit of wet her behind her ear.

Sure, we’d had plenty of close moments like that, but this has felt different. Her eyes seemed almost darker, hee smile lighting the room up more than ever. The arms holding me now felt different too, and I knew I never wanted them to leave me.

We stared at eachother for a few moments silence, waiting for the other to be bold enough to speak.

Instead of words, however, I settled on something far more fitting for the situation.

I leaned my head down, holding her neck and back of her head with my hands. Flicking my eyes from her lips back up to her beautiful eyes to ensure this was what we both wanted, I closed the far-too-large-for-my-liking gap between us.

Her lips were gentle and soft, just like how she was around me. I’ve never been happier to be able to know the true side to my best friend. And now, I can see another side to her I’d never thought I would.

Breaking away once the butterflies in my stomach got too much, I let my eyes remain closed, basking in the pure joy of the moment.

“You may not be able to run, but sure can you kiss,” Grace’s composure appeared to return almost as soon as it left, her usual smirk gracing her lips again.

I gave her a roll of my eyes and peck back on the lips again, showing her how much I enjoyed it too.

“So, how about Netflix and Chill?”

#Spotify #football #woso soccer #women’s football #grace clinton #woso x reader #alessia russo #leah williamson #woso fanfics #x reader #fanfic

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restinslices · 10 months ago

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Oooh ummumumumum can you make a kitana (mk1) x f!reader fluff where reader sneaks a pet into the palace and tries to hide it from kitana with the help of mileena 🤗🤗

I’ve never written for Kitana so it’s short and kinda ass 😭

Word count: 1113

Kitana was an observant creature, typically able to spot when something seemed off. Finding out what it was though, was something completely different.

She could tell that you and Mileena were behaving differently but she couldn't figure out why. Everything seemed fine, there were no holidays or events coming up besides the Earthrealmers coming for Mortal Kombat but that usually didn't get a tense response like this.

Everyday Kitana would see you two. Your attempts to be sneaky were clear and in all honesty, a part of her was jealous. The idea that you two had become closer, a duo in a trio if you will, gave her this uneasy feeling deep in her heart that made her typically warm body run cold. It's not that you weren't allowed to spend alone time with Mileena. It just felt weird. Like you two created your own world that she wasn't invited to.

Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe…

She approached Mileena’s door, her nerves unnecessarily high. It wasn't because the Earthrealmers would be here soon. It was because she swore she could hear you both talking. So that's why Mileena had gone missing. She was with you.

She knew it was rude to listen in, but she couldn't help it. Her hand was frozen in a raised position, like she was mid knock.

“We should tell Kitana” she heard Mileena say in a poor attempt at a hushed tone. “I can tell her today”.

“No! Everyone is far too busy worrying about the competition and those Earthrealmers! You'll only worry her”.

Mileena sighed then and Kitana could picture the hand on the hip posture she acquired from their mother. “This is a bad idea. Kitana is suspicious”.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it”

“Reliable source. Just a little longer-”

Kitana wasn't sure why she swung open the door. Maybe it was because being that close to finding out what the huge secret was but being denied made blood rush to her head. It was like being a rabbit and having someone hold a carrot over her head.

Kitana also wasn't sure what she'd see. Her plan was to confront you both then and there and demand to know what the secret was, but that didn't seem to be necessary.

She froze, her mind full of pure confusion. Mileena was standing and you were sitting with the secret, she presumed, in your lap. It was a tiny white kitten with grey markings and wide blue eyes that stared up at her.

“Um… it's an illusion?”, your poor attempt at lying made her unfreeze and process the situation. She walked in and closed the door behind her, making sure no one saw.

“What is that?”

“An illusion”

Mileena tsked and rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“You can answer to”

“It's a kitten” Mileena answered finally.

“I know that. Why is it here?”

“You didn't ask that” you said with a shrug. You started petting its head and Kitana had to admit it. The way it purred in delight made her heart squeeze, and not in the “my sister and friend have a secret. I'm so sad” way, but in the “that is the cutest thing I've ever seen” way.

She took in a breath and looked away from it, “this is what you two have been hiding?”

“I told you she knew…” Mileena muttered as she looked back at you. You, ever so calm said,

“You'd tell the Empress”

“You trust Mileena more than me?”

“Her spine is made of jelly. Yours is more solid. Like wood. It breaks eventually but not right away”. Kitana figured it made sense. It sounds terrible but Mileena was no stranger to secrets. Tarkat and Tanya, she supposed it made sense to go to Mileena. She could handle a kitten and wouldn’t turn it away. In the same breath though, Mileena didn't know Kitana or you knew about Tanya, but it was clear to anyone with two eyes and half a brain cell, so maybe you should have told Kitana first.

“It can't stay. You both know this”

“But why not?” You said with a small pout and held the kitten close. “It's well behaved”

“The Earthrealmers are coming. We're expected to be in public view and we can't have that-”

“You're expected to. Mileena is expected to. Not me”

Kitana hated that you had a point. Her and Mileena were princesses, but you were just a friend of the family. You attending wasn't necessary, so realistically you could watch it in their absence. Still though, with the luck you all had, someone would find out. Her mother would not be pleased about this random animal in the palace. It seems you could sense her hesitations since next you said “she won't find out unless we say something. I sneak it food, I snuck in a place for it to do its business, we use random bowls for water, plus no one comes in Mileena's room… apart from you obviously. Everyone else has to knock-”

“Apart from our mother”

“How often does she grab either of you personally?”. She stayed silent, because once again you had a point. After all, Kitana only found out about this because her mother didn't want to grab Mileena herself. Her mother typically sent someone to grab them, she never grabbed them herself unless it was urgent and they were near each other.

It's not that Kitana didn't like cats. She just really didn't wanna get in trouble. Once again though, you seemed to read her mind. You crept closer to her, cat in hand

“Oh please Kitana!” You said in a high pitched voice “please let me stay! You're so nice and perfect, surely you'll let little old me stay! You wouldn't throw me to the wolves, would you?”. You moved the cat closer to her, and Kitana swore it understood English and how to play its role because it rubbed its head against her.

She guessed you were right. Her spine was wood, and it had broke.

“Is it loud?”

“No and it's a she. We're thinking of names still”. Kitana took the kitten out of your arms and held it, feeling the soft fur under her fingertips. When the unnamed kitten looked up at her and blinked slowly, that's when she knew she had a new pet now, even if that was never her intention.

“She's in my room tonight”

“Of course Princess” You said with a bow and if she wasn't holding the most precious thing she'd ever seen, she would've hit you. Instead she rolled her eyes and looked back down at the small kitten, it sleeping peacefully in her arms.

I have two more fluff requests after this. Y’all make me violently ill. Where are the sad hoes?!

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #kitana mk1 #kitana mk #kitana x reader #kitana mortal kombat #Kitana fluff #Kitana x reader fluff #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat fluff

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bunji-enthusiast · 8 months ago

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So. Uhm..

Have this small idea that came to me.

Sonic.exe world, with Knuckles(like maybe his soul version or before he gets killed) x reader (who can somewhat be like Sonic.exe? But more ,,, normal? Like. A kind & nice exe who saved him from being killed by Sonic.exe)

But with that, they kinda take his form? But their form looks more cartoony & classic-style. Kinda like a simpler and small form, easy to pick up Knuckles (maybe other survivors?) and run just as fast to a safe place. (kinda inspired by my own sonic.exe OC tbh,, but yeah). (You don't have to, tho! Just thought that this was interesting—!)

Mimicking Friend — Knuckles The Echidna

Note || this is a really neat idea! I hope I read this right. And if this is okay ^^

WC || 568

Sypnosis || If anyone told him beforehand he’d get saved by the one lesser of two evils, he would’ve laughed. Now he’s believing it himself.

He was confused as hell when it all began, the ebony grays and the scarlet red skies. It was all so menacing, but not truly to someone like Knuckles, he wasn’t very put off by any bit of the blood either. Only then he got concerned when he started to learn about Sonic, someone who he recently met. The echidna certainly didn’t expect the blue blur to actually kill his two-tailed fox friend, he thought they were as close as brothers can be.

Knuckles felt fortunate when he managed to fight off the demon, the bloody hedgehog was a killer but he sure as hell was no fighter. Even then, he knows the killer can and will adapt overtime, especially with all the strange manipulation of reality he can do. When he was sure the damn demon was down for good, he ran as fast as he could. Knuckles certainly wasn’t about to stick around for that possessed hedgehog to actually succeed in killing the echidna, he couldn’t leave the Master Emerald without the guardian.

When you finally made the decision to make an appearance before Knuckles, he was rather confused. You looked so similar to him, only tinier in size. Yet it was even more surprising when you possessed more strength he realized, carried as if he was a bride just married you ran even further then he possibly could (More so floated, but who cares?). You felt as if you had to keep Knuckles safe and hidden away from the demon, accursed and trickster with a knack for obsessing over things unnecessarily.

“Who the hell are you?” He finally asked after you had whisked away the two of you to somewhere far and safe away from the bloody hedgehog, Knuckles felt as if he was close to snapping within his emotions. He was confused, mixed up about every recent event which had occurred in mere minutes away from each other.

Why’d you save him?

Why do you look just like him?

Many thoughts and questions had run through the echidna’s head, but the one he had uttered was something he found most important.

You looked down, shifting closer to the ground so you could lay yourself for rest. “Someone who just wanted you to stay alive,” You began, feeling the words finicky to find. “Cause they know what it’s like to fail to do so.” Those words felt wrong, yet so right. You wince internally as you search his face for any hint of a reaction to your words. Knuckles sighed, complacency wasn’t his greatest idea of a deal begotten between him and a stranger who just saved his life.

“I owe you.” He spoke, finally decided to break the awkward silence. Knuckles took a moment of pause, closing his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Thank you, I suppose.”

You interject, “You owe me nothing, but I do owe you something.”

At this, he raises a brow. Eyes opening to reveal magnificent purple hues expressing interest in your next set of words, “You need answers yes? I can provide them.” Knuckles was albeit, relieved he could get them from someone friendlier than most entities right now. He wasn’t in a very grateful mood if he were to search for them himself.

“Alright then..” The echidna begins, taking a walk towards the distance.

He then gestures vaguely as he asks, “Who the hell was possessing Sonic?”

#sonic.exe #knuckles the echidna #knuckles x reader

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7-wonders · 2 years ago

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Kiss With a Fist

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: I've wanted to write something about you pulling a Hob Gadling and fighting off someone wanting to attack Dream for a while now. Here it is. Basically you're a badass and you fight a drunk guy trying to pick a fight with Dream. Let me know your thoughts!

(Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns)

We begin…in the Waking World, which is not, in his opinion, an ideal place to be.

Though the Burgess lineage has been snuffed out and Dream of the Endless is far too powerful to ever find himself captured by a mortal again, he still feels a touch of trepidation upon his trips outside of his realm. How could he not, after one such visit went so spectacularly wrong and ended up with him trapped for over a century?

Having reminders of the good of humanity certainly helps ease his apprehension, which is why he typically finds himself with some sort of companion when he leaves the safety of the Dreaming. Most of the time, Matthew is a mere stone’s throw away at all times. If not Matthew, then Dream has increasingly found himself seeking the company of his friend, Hob Gadling.

You’re the most “human” of them all; though both Matthew and Hob were, at one point, completely and utterly mortal, that is no longer the case. You, however, are. He would argue that’s perhaps what makes you so fascinating, but he knows that’s not entirely true. There are a great many things that make you fascinating to him, and your mortality is probably the least of those.

It’s his predilection towards you that has landed him here in the first place, at what you called an “upscale bar” for a friend’s birthday party. To be fair to you, it’s not as if you hadn’t given Dream multiple opportunities to decline your invitation. You even bluntly told him, among other things, that it was almost certain he would not enjoy himself at a mortal event such as this and you were perfectly fine going by yourself.

But no, he had to insist that he would play the role of doting “boyfriend” (which he was, though he preferred terms to describe your relationship that sounded much less juvenile) and accompany you to this celebration. After two grueling hours, he can honestly say that he does not understand why anybody would torture themselves by willingly stepping foot into such an establishment. Between the bone-shaking bass of the music that is unnecessarily loud, the patrons whose wildly inappropriate, alcohol-steeped daydreams stick to Dream like molasses, and the harsh lighting that continues to change depending on the beat of whatever garish song is playing, he’s seen enough to last him five human lifetimes.

He tries to hide his disdain, knowing that you’re enjoying yourself and your night. ‘Tries’ being the key word here: after the fifth person who visibly jumps in fear when they see Dream’s piercing glower, it’s evident that this attempt is not working in the slightest. Whether you’ve finally noticed this or you just decide to take pity on him, he’s not sure.

Regardless, you lean into him and ask, “Are you doing okay?”

“I would like to get some air,” he says, being heard clearly by you despite not having to raise his voice above the music. He’s relieved when you nod; Dream was never a particularly social creature, but that desire for solace increased tenfold after he freed himself from his glass cage.

“We can head out, actually. I’ve socialized long enough.”

Dream could actually cheer at this. Since it would be entirely uncouth of him to do so, he continues to look nonchalant. “Do not feel that you need to end your night early on my account.”

“I’m not! I’m tired and I’d rather go home with you now. I’m gonna close my tab, if you wanna go wait outside for me!”

He very much wants to go wait outside for you, and with one last squeeze of your hand, he separates from you and leaves you to finish paying for your drinks.

There’s something inherently calming to Dream about the evening hours. It may be that the world seems to become more peaceful after the sun sets, or that the majority of dreamers enter his realm at this time. It could even be the fact that this is Mother Night’s domain, complicated as their relationship may be. Whatever the reason, Dream is particularly fond of this time of day, and he enjoys the sudden tranquility after such a hectic environment.

Unfortunately, said tranquility lasts only momentarily before a shadow crosses over towards Dream and he meets the bloodshot eyes of a mortal man. He’s average in every way, from the backwards cap to the scuffed shoes stained with unidentified liquids. A ‘frat boy,’ you would call him. Though the shadows warp behind him as he attempts to scare him off as he did to the others inside the bar, this man remains uncowed by his expression.

“Hey, I saw you earlier at the bar.” Dream scowls, for he did have an encounter with this particular human inside the establishment, and he did not enjoy one second of it. “Yeah, I offered to buy your girl a drink, didn’t I? Then you shoved your way in between us, which was rude. I was just trying to be friendly!”

“Silence, mortal.” He’s had enough of this conversation, if it can even be called that, and glances in the direction of the entrance to see if you’re making your exit. In the process, he sees the man’s expression morph into something ugly, something vengeful. He’s not sure why, considering he has not been insulted; after all, Dream simply called him what he is, which is a mortal.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

Instead of actually bothering with a response, Dream attempts to move away from the wall in order to find you, having had enough of playing this game. The mortal man’s hand lands on his shoulder and stops him from achieving that goal. Dream simply glances at it, deciding that, actually, it has been a good while since he properly frightened a mortal in any realm.

“Why ya tryin’ to leave? I just wanted to have a friendly chat.” The man’s breath reeks of cheap alcohol, and Dream’s lip curls in disgust.

“No, I think not.”

“Hey!” Both heads snap towards the bar’s entrance, where you’re emerging from the door and marching closer towards them. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The mortal man smirks, finding amusement in the fact that you’re now involved. “Get outta here, bitch. This doesn’t concern you.”

Dream has half a mind to incite his nightmares on this boor of a man just for the crude insult (how dare he even think to disrespect the future consort of the Dreaming in such a way), but you’re speaking before he can properly make a decision. “Yeah it does. Leave him alone.”

The man smirks and rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to Dream. “What, you need your girlfriend to fight your battles for you?”

“I’m trying to protect you here,” you say with a laugh, knowing that Dream doesn’t need anyone to do anything for him. “Take your hand off of him and go.”

As you walk past him, you knock your shoulder against the man’s, who goes stumbling back with his arms pinwheeling at his sides as he attempts to keep his balance. Either you’re stronger than you look, or the man is drunker than he lets on; Dream is willing to bet that it’s a combination of both.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, dude.”

Gently, you grab Dream’s hand and pull him away from the wall. He allows you to do so–though he can deny it all he wants, he certainly doesn’t mind when you fuss over him. Sure enough, he watches as you scan him up and down for any sign of injury, seeming to forget that he cannot exactly be injured by a mere mortal.

“Are you okay?”

Were they in private, Dream would laugh (he’s found himself doing a lot more of that lately–laughing) and assure you that nothing so paltry as a mortal attempting to provoke him had caused him any harm or upset. As it is, he simply nods, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

Unfortunately, mortal men seem to love violence. This should not be surprising, considering his brother is—was—Destruction, but it’s something that tends to slip his mind due to how little time he actually spends among them. When they are robbed of the opportunity to inflict said violence on their intended target, they become enraged.

This is no different for this mortal man, whose face turns a surprising shade of red in anger. As Dream turns with you to leave, he allows his natural eyes to appear through the blue ones that he wears when in the Waking. Black pits appear in their place, the stars that are normally there completely snuffed out. Petty, but he cannot resist making the last move.

This works against his favor, however, when the mortal man takes a swing at Dream.

For an immortal, anthropomorphic personification, Dream has not found himself in many fights through his long life. He should rephrase that: he has not found himself in many street fights through his long life. Battles, he’s had his fair share. Glorious battles, either those like the Oldest Game where wit is the weapon or those where he was fighting for a purpose, be it love or honor or his realm.

But battles are skilled; there’s an art to them, an understanding on each side of the formalities and the pomp and circumstance that goes into it all. Though they may be enemies, the foes carry with them a certain integrity that extends to the conflict. In fact, as far as Dream is aware, mortal military campaigns are fought a lot like this as well. Alleyway brawls most certainly do not carry any of this.

Humanity changed, as humanity is wont to do, in the century plus that Dream found himself a prisoner in an English countryside basement. However, the century of imprisonment had to align with one of the centuries that underwent the most societal change. Though Dream very much enjoys watching as humanity evolves, he enjoys watching it as it happens, not learning about it in retrospect. As a result, he has felt woefully behind when it comes to modern standards; a fact which the few mortals or former mortals he knows love to focus on. Not that he wants to sound every bit as old as he is, but before his imprisonment, ladies most certainly did not fight.

All of this is important knowledge to keep in mind for the coming events.

The man’s hit, meant for Dream, connects against your cheek as a result of you shoving Dream out of the way before he can truly process what’s about to happen. He wants to tell you to stop, wants to blow sand in the face of this man and follow through on his silent threat to give him his worst nightmares, but…something stops him. A not-unpleasant warmth in his stomach that begins to bloom as he watches you ball your hands into fists, obviously preparing to fight back against this man.

A few bystanders audibly wince when you punch your adversary’s jaw, making his head snap back. Curses fall from his lips as he swings again, but you manage to grab a fistful of his shirt collar when you duck and his fist hits your forehead. This advantage means that this will be the last hit he gets on you.

With a yank of the fabric, the shirt goes up over his head and serves both to blind him as well as to make it difficult for him to move away from you. He’s more focused on attempting to free himself from your hold than he is hitting you again, and when he finally does regain his sight, he sees your fist hurtling towards his face.

The last punch is a direct hit to the mortal’s nose, blood immediately beginning to drip down his face and onto the ground. Both the pain and the shock of it send him falling backwards onto the ground, where he groans pathetically and clutches at his wounded face. From above, you breathe heavily and shake out your dominant hand, a look of disgust on your face as you stare down at the enemy you’ve taken down with ease.

In all, the actual fight lasts less than half a minute. Dream, however, believes that he shall think of said fight for the rest of his eternal fight.

“Bitch,” the mortal spits out again, the insult the only weapon he has left in his arsenal.

“Don’t forget it, either.” You grab Dream’s hand again, this time pulling him away from the small crowd that’s beginning to form on the sidewalk. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here before someone calls the cops.”

Dream demeans himself and actually runs alongside you, but only until there are no more humans in sight. He pulls you to a stop then, taking his sand out of his coat and tossing a handful in the air. Between one blink and the next, he’s safely inside your Waking apartment with you. Shaking your head a couple of times to clear the double vision in your eyes, you finally look over at him.

“I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think you’d get stuck dealing with some drunk idiot who–oof!”

Dream cuts off your rambling by shoving you against the wall of your bedroom and proceeding to kiss you as though it’s been years since he last laid his lips against yours. You stiffen under him for a moment before your body goes lax, hands curling around the lapels of his coat as you lean into him and attempt to eliminate any modicum of space between your bodies. It’s only when he can hear you beginning to try and take desperate little pants in an attempt to get air into your lungs that he pulls his lips from you, though this doesn’t last for long.

“Do you have any idea,” he pauses to press another series of heated kisses to you, “what seeing you fight that man did to me?”

“...I’m confused. Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Dream scoffs. “How could I be mad, when you defended my honor in such a way. Me, who could have sent the mortal to the Nightmare Realm with barely a glance. I am more powerful than the gods themselves, yet you fought for me without so much as a second thought. No, I am not mad at you. I find myself rather infatuated with you at this moment, in fact.”

“As if you’re not infatuated with me all the time?” He silences your snark with more kissing, which you gladly accept for another few moments.

“Dream,” you finally mumble against his lips.

When he doesn’t answer, you try again.

“Morpheus.”

He still doesn’t answer, nor does he make any movement to let you know he even heard you. Finally, you push at his chest to get his attention.

“While I’d love to continue doing this, my lip is split and it really hurts to kiss you right now.”

Dream steps away from you sheepishly. It’s not often that his control falters in such a way, and it only ever does so when he’s in your presence.

“I apologize,” he says remorsefully. If there’s one thing that Dream hates, it’s causing pain to those dearest to him, of which you are the most dear.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, you couldn’t have known it hurts. I should probably clean myself up, though.” He follows you into your bathroom, where you turn on the faucet and grab a clean cloth off of the towel rack.

“Allow me to help you with your wounds?” Dream asks.

Healing others is not one of his many powers, and you know that. Still, he wants to be of assistance, and so you point to the closet in the corner. “There’s a first aid kit on the bottom shelf of the closet, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing that?”

Dream hasn’t the faintest idea what a first aid kit actually is, but since he’s trying to be helpful, he simply goes off in the direction that you pointed him towards. When he comes back with the bright red bag (he knows enough from dreams to know that the white cross on the front means medical aid), you’re dabbing blood off of the back of your hand with a damp cloth.

“I did not realize that your hand was injured, as well,” Dream says.

“What can I say? Fucker had a hard head.”

He frowns. “I really wish that you would not use such crass language. It’s very unbecoming.”

“You love it and you know you do.”

Dream’s hands skim over the different medical supplies, unsure of what will help or hurt, or even what each item’s intended use is. This confusion must be rather obvious, for you simply have him hold the kit open as you grab whatever is needed and set it out on the counter next to you. He watches, silently and with utter fascination, while you grab a small cotton round and dab some sort of antibiotic on it before you begin to carefully apply it to your knuckles.

He takes this time to actually catalog the injuries you had sustained while fighting for him. In addition to the webbing of surface-level cuts on your knuckles, two wide bruises are already beginning to discolor your skin, one stretching along your cheekbone and the skin below your right eye and the other on your forehead up into your hairline. The ‘split lip’ as you called it, does look rather painful, and he feels bad to have exacerbated that pain. The skin is quite literally split down both your upper and lower lip, dark red blood pooling on the surface. It’s swollen, and another bruise forms on top of the swelling.

Again, Dream feels his heart, which does not work like that of a human’s, clench painfully. You’ve bled to protect him, injured yourself just to keep him safe. He does not know how he could ever repay you for such a kindness, though you’ll assuredly attempt to convince him that you don’t need any sort of repayment.

For Dream, this repayment starts by being the one to take care of you. Now that he’s watched you care for one wound, he can easily mimic your movements as he takes the washcloth you’re running under the tap water and gently presses it to your lip. You wince under his touch, but allow his hand to remain there.

“Where did you learn to fight in such a way?” Dream asks after you’ve nodded that enough time has passed for him to remove the cloth from your mouth.

You shrug. “I was bullied in middle school and it started to get kind of physical–nothing too bad, just mean girls shoving me around or stepping on my heels so that I’d trip and fall.” It sounds far worse than ‘nothing too bad,’ and Dream almost wants to ask you for the names of your childhood tormentors so that he may give them a taste of their own medicine. “Still, my dad wanted to teach me to defend myself, just in case it got any worse.”

“He taught a child to fight?” Dream scoffs in disbelief, one hand gently holding your chin in place while he uses the other to apply the antibiotic to your lips.

“I was twelve, first of all, and it’s not like he was encouraging me to go up to these girls and knock them out. It was a last-resort sort of thing,” you say when he’s finished tending to that cut.

His hand gently skims along the bruise on your cheek, and you can’t stop your reflexes as your hand darts out to grab at his wrist and stop him. He aborts what he was doing, instead grasping your own hand and pulling you to him as he just barely lays his lips on top of the bruise and lets them linger there. He can hear your breath catch in your lungs as he does so, and it makes him smirk just slightly.

When Dream finally pulls away, your body unconsciously tries to follow him as you mourn the loss of his closeness. He asks, “Might I continue to attend to you, my protector? My warrior?”

“Uh, um,” you stutter, trying desperately to remember how to speak. Dream finds it incredibly endearing. “The, uh, I have ice packs in the–in the freezer. For my face? They’re blue, and they should be stacked on top of each other.”

“Go lay down so that you may rest,” he commands. “I shall be back momentarily.”

You describe items well enough that finding whatever it is you request is an easy task, the ice packs being no different. Perhaps Hob Gadling was right to marvel over human inventions at most of the pair’s early meetings. There is something rather fascinating about the resourcefulness of creating something that can be kept cold specifically to help with injuries.

When Dream returns to you, you’ve done as he asked as are laying against the pillows of your bed to rest. He’s unsure of how you apply said ice packs, and hands them to you instead and watches as you lay one on each bruise. Though you recoil from the cold at first, you soon sigh and relax under it.

“Will you lay with me?” you ask.

Dream is not one to turn you down for most things, and he especially will not deny you of this request. He wraps himself around you, black coat billowing out and covering both of you. He knows that it’s only your face that has sustained the brunt of your injuries, but he still tries to be cautious with you just in case.

It’s not exactly resting when you’re on your phone watching the videos that, while they make no sense to Dream, make you laugh, but you’re safe and in his arms, so he won’t say anything to you about the importance of proper rest. Instead, he allows himself to simply think. About you, about him, about this night.

“You need not have come to my defense,” he says suddenly upon remembering what it is he had wanted to say to you earlier, before he was overcome with the need to kiss you. Distantly, he’s reminded of the last time he said such a phrase, and his lips tilt up at the memory.

“Hmm?” You don’t quite know what he means, his statement coming from out of nowhere.

“I was in no danger, yet you so valiantly defended me from the mortal. Why?”

“Because he was going to hurt you.” You say it as if it’s the most obvious conclusion in the world. The sky is blue, water is wet, you fought the man because he was going to hurt Dream.

“He would not have gotten the chance.”

You sigh. “I know that you’re all-powerful and whatnot, but…when you love someone, sometimes that doesn’t matter. Someone was attempting to attack you, and so I decided that I wasn’t going to let them. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I very much would. However, it’s a little different for me than it is for you.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?”

He begins to uncharacteristically stammer in an attempt to explain himself. “No, that’s not–I would never–you–”

You cut him off with a laugh before he can make an even bigger fool of himself. “I’m just teasing you.”

“You are cruel to your monarch, my love.”

“Not my monarch, I’m afraid,” you say cheekily, a smile on your face. “Last I checked, I’m not one of your subjects.”

It will never cease to amaze Dream just how at peace he feels when in your presence. On the rare occasion that conversations start out serious, they devolve into something quaint and full of soft touches and teasing jokes at your hands. Even after he sees you into the Dreaming and has returned the now-melting ice packs to your freezer, he feels this way.

Suddenly, he’s struck with the ‘why’ of it all. He feels at home here. No, he feels at home with you. Being with you is like coming home after a long journey and getting to sleep in your bed again for the first time in months. You’re his comfort, his safe place.

Perhaps, in some cases, the Waking World is an ideal place to be.

#dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #the sandman #the sandman imagine

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houseoflibra · 24 days ago

Text

Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas – Bangai-hen Crimson Rebirth (Part 1)

This is the script for the special chapter that was published in January 2022, the first of a three-chapter arc about Defteros.

Page 1

Defteros: - (Why…?) - (Why have you stayed with me…) - (…Gemini?)

Pages 2 + 3

Defteros: - (Even though I'm the one who killed your master…) - (…my twin brother…) - (…Aspros!)

Pages 4 + 5

Defteros: - ! - (Frost…) - Hey! - Hold back your ice before you put out my fire… - …Aquarius Degel.

Page 6

Degel: - Looks like you remember me. - I'm glad, Defteros.

Defteros: - Cut the chit-chat! Why did you come here?

Degel: - I have orders! - The Pope has assigned a mission to you…

Page 7

Degel: - …the new Gold Saint... - ...Gemini Defteros!!

Page 8

Defteros: - Y— - You can't be serious!! - I'm a despicable star of ill omen that's lived in hiding!! - Making me a Saint is—

Degel: - And yet you were allowed to look after the Gemini Cloth, weren't you? - It seems to me like the Pope's decree is only reasonable. - After all, you are already qualified and able. - And this mission is on Kanon Island.

Defteros: - !! - What?!

Degel: - That's where you're going tomorrow, isn't it? Perfect timing, wouldn't you say?

Page 9

Defteros: - So that's how it is... - That Pope Sage… - How crafty is he?…

Degel: - Heheh… - It just means he trusts you. - This mission is not an easy one, though. - Have you noticed? - A few months ago, one of Hades's Dark Stars fell on Kanon Island.

Pages 10 + 11

Degel: - The island is now in turmoil under the influence of an evil cosmo. - Since it's close to our shores, Sanctuary has sent troops there multiple times, but not a single soldier has returned. - Several of the residents of Kanon Island have also gone missing. - They're so terrified that they are even spouting things such as…

Page 12

Degel: - …how a man-eating demon has occupied the island's volcano.

Page 13

Defteros: - Hey! - Do you Sanctuary people always go out wearing these restrictive clothes? - I don't get the point…

Degel: - Not everybody does, but it's best not to alarm people unnecessarily. - But… - Oh! You don't think they suit you?

Page 14

Defteros: - Stop that. - You'll drain away my motivation to go face the demon.

Page 15

Degel: - We can't have that. - I'll end up getting scolded by the Pope. - … - I'm sorry about Aspros.

Defteros: - !

Degel: - I heard about it. How he was killed after plotting to manipulate you with the Illusion Demon Emperor's Fist to assassinate the Pope. - I was one of the many who admired his intelligence and strong presence… - …but I never imagined that he would go that far.

Defteros: - Yes… - My brother was formidable…

Page 16

Defteros: - Now that he's gone… the world feels awfully quiet. - A whole new path that I never even imagined was possible has suddenly opened up before me and I'm genuinely bewildered. - From here, you can see the fumes of Kanon Island's volcano in the distance. - It's powerful and sinister. - Ever since I was little, I've wondered what it would look like up close.

Page 17

Defteros: - As somebody who lived in hiding, the world outside Sanctuary always seemed so foreign to me. - That's why, Degel…

Degel: - …

Defteros: - …I can't help but feel as if this quiet is only temporary.

Page 18

Defteros: - In his final moments, my brother struck his own brain with the Illusion Demon Emperor's Fist.

Degel: - ?!

Defteros: - Why did he do that? - Even after burying his remains, this ominous feeling won’t go away.

Page 19

Defteros: - It has to mean that he did not intend that to be the end.

Degel: - That's ludicrous…

Defteros: - I am going to meet this demon not for the sake of the mission.

Page 20

Defteros: - I'm going so that I can become the demon.

To be continued...

#saint seiya #the lost canvas #the lost canvas bangai hen #saint seiya the lost canvas #scripts #first published january 2022

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curio-queries · 1 month ago

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I just like reading your thoughts on things, so I'm curious, do you think bts will leave hybe when their contracts end in 2025?

Before 2024, or even just earlier this year, I would've said that question was ridiculous because why in the world would they, but as more comes out related to the legal battle with mhj about what is going on behind the scenes at the company and their incompetency (the leaked document today is especially damning which painted a target on jimn's back while admitting they do nothing about the hate the boys get that gets reported to them), handling of yoongi's situation, jungkook speaking out in a way that did not explicitly support the company, basically ass promotion for their work (the company has learned to rely too heavily on fans doing the footwork for bts), etc. it is kind of making me wonder. K-army across the board pretty much hate hybe and have for a while, everything that comes out just deepens their hate. I do think bts are in a weird position because a lot of the issues are coming from hybe, rather than BH and they seem very close with a lot of the staff who are also intertwined in all this. I also have no idea where they'd go. More and more kpop idols are leaving their agencies and starting their own, but I doubt bts wants to deal with all the business stuff.

Idk, 9 months ago I wouldn't have even considered this question, now I really don't know based on everything we're learning about the company. I do feel bad for jin though, hybe/BH mess plus yoongi's situation have kept bts' name being constantly dragged through the mud since he was discharged. I've been an army since 2016/2017 and I don't think I've experienced a period this bad. I hope all the boys are doing ok right now, I've seen some people say they're glad in they're in the military right now just to be away from all this, but at the same time I imagine it feels awful to be that helpless watching this stuff go down and you can't speak out or defend yourself or each other.

Hi anon,

Thank-you for sending this in; I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you with my answer though...or non-answer more like.

So, the short answer to your question is that I choose to have no opinion. I'll put the reason why below a cut so anyone not interested can pass:

There was a vlogbrothers video years ago about the concept of giving up having opinions on things and I've fully embraced this idea. Basically the idea is making an active decision to not hold an opinion on something. The example they give I think was about other people's m&m flavour preference? Something like that? But have you ever had the experience where someone shares a benign preference like them preferring the peanut m&ms over all of the other flavours and someone else respond with shock about they could prefer different one from you. Having an opinion on someone else's preference over something so trivial adds absolutely no value to your own life experience so it's just wasted energy.

Once I started noticing these kinds of inconsequential opinions that I was holding, and had practice in giving them up, I was also better able to recognize situations where an opinion on my part would just disturb my personal peace unnecessarily.

Back to your question about BTS possibly moving companies in light of the current drama. This is such a large issue that requires some specific insight. At minimum, here's what I would want to consult with an someone more knowledgeable on:

Landscape of the music industry in Korea both past and present

BTS's involvement in the actual hierarchy of the companies involved.

Knowledge of the current events surrounding the investigation

Confidence in the quality of translations

Cultural context

There's more but this is what's sticking in my brain right now. And all of these areas are so far outside the scope of my knowledge that I realized just how much work it would be for me to even feel somewhat confident and informed in making an opinion. When everything started unfolding, I had to make a conscious decision whether to dig in enough that I could get to that point. I recognized that I just don't have the energy or time to really do my due diligence in this area.

My engagement in kpop beyond just listening to the music is wholly an escape. If it ever gets to the point where I'm not ultimately being uplifted, I will stop engaging. Life is hard enough as it is without adding further burden from something that's supposed to be entertainment. So I'm purposefully not planning to delve further into these speculations.

I will give one piece of advice for anyone that is engaging in this. Be very mindful of the sources that you are listening to and try to become aware of what they may have to gain from presenting the events from either perspective. There was a while where I was getting fed some videos of people talking about it in my algorithms but there was always something that didn't sit right with the various viewpoints being presented, no matter which side was presenting it.

I've definitely seen some parallels between this situation and the endless 'discussions' regarding whether the members would receive exemption from their military service. It was so peaceful no longer being subject to that topic once the announcement was made.

Anyway, that's all I have to say on the subject. I hope you find some people that are able to engage in this discussion in the way you're looking.

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sterekbros · 1 year ago

Text

wild and free by Winchesterek

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles asked, looking out at the beautiful waterfalls cascading into the lake in front of them.

The water shimmered shades of green and blue, which looked like emeralds and malachite glistening in the sun. The spray of the waterfall floated through the air, a cool mist clinging to their skin, making Stiles feel sticky. It looked wild and overgrown, the foliage lush and leafy, clinging to the rocks around them.

When he looked back at Derek, his skin was slick with sweat and water, making Stiles want to lick and suck his salty skin. Derek turned to smile at him and it warmed Stiles’ heart, loving how happy Derek looked.

“Just one of the most beautiful places in Croatia, Plitvice Lakes,” Derek replied, reaching out to take Sitles’ hand. “Come on. We can make it down to the water and enjoy it for a little while before we have to head back.”

“Well, we can't stay because I didn't bring my pillow,” Stiles added with a chuckle. “You know I can't sleep without it.”

“Good thing I don't plan on camping out here, then. I know I can make sure that we don't get caught, but I wanna take you somewhere nice for dinner. It’ll take us about two hours to get back to the city so we should leave before the sun goes down.”

“Good thing we got here bright and early, then.” Stiles walked along with Derek carefully and descended along the path to the water, slowly climbing over slippery rocks.

Stiles wasn't sure if this was the beautifulest place he’d ever seen, because they’d been to so many places that were so beautiful that Stiles had a hard time believing that they were real. Like Elafonisi Beach, where they’d spent a week exploring Greece and bathing in the sun. Derek’s skin was beautiful and sunkissed, while Stiles looked a little bit like a lobster for a week afterward until it turned into a light tan.

Once they were down to the water, Stiles grinned as he watched Derek strip his shirt off and toss it onto the ground on top of their bags. He openly ogled his mate, knowing that Derek could scent his arousal and he smirked as Derek unnecessarily flexed for him, but acted like it was a casual action.

Stiles stripped down to his swim shorts and carefully walked across the rocks to the bank next to Derek. “Wow…the water is so clear.”

It was unimaginable to Stiles that water could be so clear, but they’d seen oceans just as clear when they sailed around the world together. “Oh, look! Fish!” Stiles pointed and Derek smiled.

“I’m sure they’ll leave us alone when we’re in the water. Come on, let’s get in!” Derek waded into the lake first while Stiles watched him skeptically.

“There isn't anything in there that will eat me, is there?” Stiles tried to look further into the water, but it was too far away for him to see much with his puny human eyesight.

“Nothing’s going to eat you, Stiles. I’ll protect you.” Derek dipped his head back into the water and ran his hands through his hair when he was upright again. “Get in here!”

“How are you sure?! You can't see all the way over there!” Stiles said, pointing.

“Really? Get in the water, Stiles. This isn't even salt water. There are no large predators in the water here,” Derek promised with an amused look, sighing. “Get in the water! You’re more likely to run into a bear out there than anything happening to you in here. Or step on a snake.”

Stiles looked around the forest and the ground before hurrying into the water. “Why didn't you tell me there were bears! I don't even have anything to protect myself with.”

Derek laughed, wrapping his arms around Stiles when he reached him. “You have me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“You better not,” Stiles replied, wrapping his arms around Derek and drawing him in close. “Because then you’re gonna be all alone on that sailboat. What on earth would you do without me?”

“Regret all my life choices,” Derek joked, but Stiles could tell that he was being serious. “You know I couldn't go on without you. If it’s the last thing I do, it’ll always be to protect you.”

“You know I feel the same way, Derek.” Stiles' voice was soft and almost a whisper, his hand moving to cup Derek’s cheek.

The last thing he wanted to do was make Derek think about losing him. It was why he’d left with Derek to begin with, because of his injury on the job. Unfortunately, Stiles’ brain-to-mouth filter didn't always work.

And Stiles knew that he was Derek’s anchor, just as much as Derek was Stiles’. Or, well, if he was a werewolf. As much as an anchor that Derek could be for Stiles being human.

“We’ll be okay,” Derek promised, kissing Stiles tenderly. “I’ll race you to the other side,” Derek added when they parted, then laughed and dunked Stiles under the water before taking off.

Stiles sputtered as he came up, shaking the water from his face.

“Not! Fair!” Stiles shouted after Derek. “And you can't use your werewolf speed!”

But Derek was almost already at the other end of the small lake as Stiles ran his hands through his hair.

He smiled, the hot sun shining down on them and warming his skin, the cool clear water rippling around him.

This was their life. Traveling the world and being together.

It was all that Stiles ever wanted, just him and Derek and a world full of possibilities.

He dove into the water, knowing that he’d never win or catch up to Derek. But Stiles was perfectly fine with that because Derek would make it up to him later, sprawled out in the sailboat cabin, taking him apart until Stiles couldn't feel his toes and he was warm all over.

Croatia was going to become one of his favorite places in the world, full of memories.

Of him and Derek. Happy and free.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #eternalsterek #sterek is eternal #eternal sterek #sterek au #sterek fanfic #derek x stiles #stiles/derek #stiles x derek #derek/stiles #alpha derek hale #alpha derek #true alpha derek hale #mine #my fic #my art

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los-ninos-tortugas · 2 months ago

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Let's talk about the Familial Bonds AU

So I'm currently at home and looking over all the pages of writing and AU's I've made so far, literally don't know how not to be nervous posting about my own AU's but I think part of it was that I wrote this down a while ago. But! Let's do this anyway.

I started writing this post a full year ago. My grasp on long stretches of time is... slippery at best but goddamn. Evidently I wasn't as close to shaking off my anxiety back then as I thought. Which to be fair is still true now. But I've been sick and miserable this past week as well as incredibly bored and I've been thinking about this AU a lot again lately and I've been trying to find a way to ease myself out of my post college graduation burnout and finally posting this seems like a good way to get the ball rolling. So enough about me, let's finally talk about this AU.

So, going from my notes that I wrote a while ago; You're Family Because I Found You, I Found You Because You're Family (I really had a penchant for long and dramatic titles when I first started writing for Rise). Short name: Familial Bonds AU

AU Summary: Stories in this series fall under the head canon that Casey Jones is Cassandra and Leonardo's biological son. So far there are two(?) stories planned for this series.

Something Unspoken: Despite their close relationship and some obvious signs that Casey was in fact Master Leonardo's son, it was never something they acknowledged. Casey spent his first seven years with his mom, moving around constantly to various resistance bases. In those years Casey only ever saw Leo in passing and hadn't yet made the connection himself-- in spite of having some turtle-y features of his own. Casey came under Leonardo's wing at eight years old after his mom died fighting the krang. Living and learning from Leo allows Casey to figure out their connection pretty quickly, but the fact that Leo himself never seems to bring it up* stops Casey from wanting to bring it up himself. Casey is a bit too young to understand or figure out why Leo never seems to want to talk about it so as the years go on they seem to develop this unspoken understanding that it's just something they don't talk about (even though Leo acts as Casey's father in all but name).

Now that Casey is living in the past with a sixteen-year-old version of his dad he has some very complicated feelings about this whole mess and decides he's just gonna ignore the problem and hope it goes away. (Hint hint, it does not.) But of course, it's not exactly super easy to hide all of his more mutant turtle features so he treads very very carefully to make sure none of them realize he's more closely related to the Hamato's than they initially thought. However this becomes harder and harder as a new branch of the Foot clan** starts creeping into New York's criminal underground, and it becomes clear that they also have a vested interest in the key, which the Hamato's are still struggling to figure out a way to destroy.

From here on my notes actually get pretty spoilery so I'll just keep all that to myself for now and go over some other little details.

*A big thing that I actually ended up getting stuck on (and probably one of the reasons I delayed this for so long) was Leonardo's motivation for not talking to Casey about how they're related. For a while I wondered if it was out of character or unnecessarily cruel for Leo to treat him only as a student and eventually I came upon the conclusion that if nothing else, Leo is his father's son and being emotionally stunted is practically genetic in this family. So his reasons I think are more misguided than anything and still come from a place of caring, if still ultimately rooted in fear. I think being in that place of war and loss and seeing the pain that Casey went through at losing his mother I think Leo might have thought to himself "I can't put this kid through that again." In the bad timeline who lived and who died was never guaranteed, and Leo knew he wasn't excluded from that, so I can see his logic as something along the lines of not wanting to give Casey false hope only to then break his heart again. I don't think he necessarily anticipated living to see the end of the war, or that he and Casey would grow closer anyway. And ultimately Leo is wrong anyway, and he can't spare Casey from the pain, and losing Master Leonardo hurts just as much.

**I like to imagine that the Foot Clan has had a few splinter groups form over the years. I mean, they're a few centuries old it's hard to imagine that some people didn't split off. I like to imagine that the group that eventually made it's way to New York that we see in the show is probably the oldest existing sect, hence why they're still deeply into the world of the mystic as well as savvy enough to build a shell company to finance their endeavors. This new group that's coming in is one that I think dropped out of the mystic world a while ago, and didn't really believe in it. They're more strictly focused on just committing actual crime. But with the New York Foot Clan basically wiped out, and with the invasion changing people's worldview a bit, they seize upon the opportunity they see presented to them. Their interest in the key and in post-invasion New York comes from an interest in the krang technology and weaponry. They're not particularly interested in the krang themselves and they're honestly a little smarter than their predecessors so they don't exactly want to open the floodgates again, but they do still want to study the properties of the key and krang tech for nefarious purposes so it unfortunately falls on the weary Hamato's to stop them (poor kids can't catch a break).

There are a couple of other subplots that unfold in this fic (I've thought about this a lot) but again, in the interest of not getting too too spoilery for now, I think I'll hold those details back for a bit. Let's get into the second story I have planned for this.

The More Things Change: Buckle up gang this is the "Leo loses his arm" fic. After getting ambushed by the new Foot Clan Leo is critically injured and the gang has no choice but to bundle him off to an actual hospital in the Hidden City. As they're all sat in the waiting room Casey starts to wonder if certain things are just inevitable as he thinks back to when Master Leonardo lost his arm. Present Leo is understandably pretty distressed about this new development considering he just got out of recovery for his injuries from the invasion and is of course now wondering how he'll move forward from this and if they'll still be able to execute their plan for getting rid of the Key. Perhaps a little unsurprisingly I don't have a lot of notes for this fic yet because it is a sequel to a fic that hasn't been written yet, but the details will get fleshed out as time goes on and I do have a lot of thoughts about it.

My notes for this AU overall are a bit incomplete, which I'm kinda fine with since I wrote them a long long time ago now and revisiting them now actually gives me a chance to really think about filling in a lot of blanks that didn't come up in my initial ideation process. Like you might notice that for an AU about Casey Jones being both Leo and Cassandra's son that for some reason Cassandra seems to be oddly missing from a lot of the plot?? I'm not sure why I initially forgot to include her for about 90% of this but now I can think of a way to actually put her in and do justice to her character rather than just being Dead Mom(tm) because she's so much cooler than that. And I've also been working on fleshing out everyone else's roles in this story because since I've initially thought of it I've come up with a lot more layers and subplots that fit into this universe that I really want to explore.

That's it for now, thanks for reading <3

#familial bonds au #rottmnt au #rise movie #rise movie au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt casey junior #rottmnt leo #rottmnt cassandra jones #rottmnt casey jones #rise of the tmnt #rise fanfic #katnip talks #katnip writes

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