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vamptizm · 1 day ago

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vi. MISSION JEALOUSY — p.bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis: in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings: angst. explicit language. that’s it i think.

word count: 3.6k

note: this took me soso long i apologize, i’m just not satisfied with this whatsoever. this series will not be revolving around just smut, so obv it’s not going to be in every or every other chapter. idk how long i’ll make it, but most of my chapters are rather short so probably double in the digit chapter count. yeah anyway thank u for being patient and reading this (i loveee comments of any kind so pls don’t hesitate to leave those)

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Clover sat across from Vanessa in a quaint little sushi restaurant downtown, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her water glass as she tried—really tried—to focus on the conversation. The dim lighting cast a warm glow across the table, the soft murmur of voices and clinking plates filling the space between them. Vanessa was mid-sentence, her voice light and animated as she recounted a story from work, but Clover wasn't listening.

She couldn't.

Everything about the evening felt... off. The restaurant, the atmosphere, even the date itself.

Vanessa had been the one to suggest this place, raving about it for days until Clover finally agreed to go. It was supposed to be a fun night out, a break from the monotony of campus life and basketball practices. But instead, the girl found herself counting the minutes, waiting for the check to arrive so she could call it a night.

The truth was, she hadn't been feeling it from the start. Not the date. Not Vanessa.

Vanessa was kind. Sweet. Energetic in a way that most people found contagious. Her laughter was bright, her gestures animated, and her eyes sparkled with sincerity whenever she looked at Clover. She was someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, someone who loved openly and fiercely, someone who deserved the same in return.

But Clover wasn't that person.

She wasn't someone who gave her heart away easily. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she had it in her to give it away at all.

Relationships had never been her thing. The idea of commitment, of letting someone get close enough to see her cracks and flaws, felt like a weight she couldn't bear. Vulnerability wasn't something she handed out freely—it was something she locked away, hidden behind witty remarks and carefree smiles. And still, Vanessa wanted more.

Something serious. Something Clover couldn't give.

"...and maybe next weekend we could check out that new art exhibit?" Vanessa's voice pulled her back to the present. She was smiling, hopeful. Her hands rested on the table, fingers curled lightly around her glass. There was a certain softness to her expression, an eagerness that made Clover's chest tighten with dread.

It was getting too much.

"Hey, listen," Clover interrupted, her voice quieter than usual, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "We've already talked about this."

Vanessa's smile faltered, just a little. Her brow furrowed as she tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face.

"I told you," Clover continued gently, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, "I'm not ready for anything serious."

For a moment, Vanessa froze. Her lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn't come. Instead, she sat back in her chair, shoulders stiffening slightly as she processed Clover's words.

"I know," Vanessa finally said, her voice quieter now, too. "But... I thought maybe if we took it slow, you'd change your mind."

Guilt twisted in Clover's stomach, sharp and unforgiving. She hated this part — the part where things inevitably fell apart, where someone always got hurt.

"I don't think that's gonna happen," she said softly, regret lacing her words. "You're... you're too good for me, Vanessa. It's not fair to let you act like my girlfriend when we both know it's not gonna happen."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Vanessa's face hardened, a flicker of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it. But Clover saw it — she always did. And it only made the guilt worse.

"You show up to my games with signs," Clover added, her voice quieter now, her gaze dropping to the table. "You wait for me after practice. You plan dates, and you're always so thoughtful... I don't deserve any of that. And you know it."

"Why wouldn't you deserve it?"

The question came quickly, sharper than Clover expected. It caught her off guard, and she stilled for a moment, her thoughts scattering.

Why didn't she deserve it?

It was a loaded question, one one required an even more loaded and heavier answer.

Because she didn't appreciate it the way she should. Because it never felt like enough to change how she was. Because the butterflies Vanessa so desperately tried to give her never came—not from sweet gestures, not from thoughtful words or sex, not from anything Vanessa did.

"Because I don't appreciate it," Clover finally said, her voice low, barely audible above the hum of the restaurant. "The way you'd like me to."

Vanessa blinked, confusion clouding her gaze.

"It doesn't... it doesn't do anything for me," Clover admitted after taking a deep breath, the confession weighing heavily on her chest. "It's not wooing me. It's not making me feel any butterflies. None of it. And I don't want you to keep hurting yourself trying to make it happen."

Silence settled over the table like a heavy blanket.

Vanessa's gaze drifted to the window, her jaw tight, lips pressed into a thin line. Her hand curled around her napkin, knuckles white. Finally, she nodded—a small, stiff motion that spoke of resignation more than understanding.

The guilt was unbearable.

Clover signaled for the check, pulling out her card before Vanessa could argue. She paid quickly, avoiding the waitress's curious gaze, and stood without a word.

The silence in the car pressed down on Clover like a weight. The rain tapping against the windshield filled the space where words should've been. Vanessa sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window, her expression distant and unreadable.

Clover clenched the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles white. The guilt gnawed at her, twisting in her chest, but not in the way most people would expect. She didn't owe Vanessa anything — not her loyalty, not her heart. She had made that clear from the start.

Still, something about the way Vanessa sat quietly, radiating disappointment, made the brunette’s stomach churn.

Vanessa finally broke the silence. Her voice was quiet, but steady. "You're not a bad person."

Clover exhaled, the lump in her throat tightening.

"You're kind," Vanessa continued, her gaze still focused on the rain-slicked streets outside. "You're thoughtful. You care more than you want people to think. And I don't know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you're incapable of something real."

Clover's chest tightened.

She hated this. Hated that Vanessa saw her as someone capable of giving more than she actually could. Hated that Vanessa saw something in her that wasn't there. Or maybe, she just hated that she couldn't see it too.

The memory of Paige lingered — the weight of her touch still fresh on Clover's skin, the way her hands trembled slightly when they pulled Clover closer, the way their eyes met in that charged, unspoken moment.

And then the look on Paige's face when Clover left.

It had mirrored the one Clover wore the first time they'd crossed that boundary. She had been the one left standing there, confused and craving more while Paige walked away without a word.

Tonight, it had been her who walked out, and she hated that it still hurt. That it felt so wrong.

Vanessa sighed, her tone softer now, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to reassure Clover. "I just... I thought maybe you'd change your mind. That maybe I could be the one to—"

Clover cut her off before she could finish.

"You're not the one."

The words came out harsh, sharper than Clover intended, but she couldn't take them back. The truth was too raw to sugarcoat.

Vanessa flinched, her lips pressing into a tight line. She nodded slowly, as if piecing everything together, realizing how deeply she had misread the situation.

"I see."

Silence returned, heavier than before.

Clover wanted to tell her that none of this was Vanessa's fault — that she hadn't led her on, that Vanessa deserved someone who wanted to give her what she was looking for. But it would've sounded hollow. Pointless.

Instead, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her mind unwillingly drifting back to Paige.

To the way Paige had looked at her, eyes burning with something Clover could never quite name. To the feeling of Paige's lips against hers, desperate and insistent. To the ache in her chest when she walked out of the room, the echo of her own footsteps on the hardwood floor sounding louder than they should've.

And to the nagging thought in the back of her mind—almost like a whisper from the devil himself—that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't running away from love entirely. She was just running from the wrong person.

"I had sex with someone else before this," Clover said suddenly, her voice steady but quiet, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Vanessa blinked, startled by the blunt confession.

"What?"

"I had sex with someone else," Clover repeated, this time slower, more deliberate. "Right before this date."

Vanessa's expression shifted — not to anger, not to betrayal, but to resignation.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Vanessa said after a long pause. There was no malice in her tone, just disappointment. "I thought I could be different. That I could make you want... more."

Clover stared straight ahead, her chest hollow.

"I told you from the start I wasn't ready for anything serious," she said, her voice steady but distant. "I wasn't lying."

"I know." Vanessa's voice softened again. "But I hoped."

And there it was — the difference between them.

Vanessa was someone who hoped, who believed in love and connection. She thought that if she showed enough kindness, enough patience, she could win Clover over. That she could make her feel the way Vanessa felt about her.

But Clover had stopped hoping a long time ago. The only person who ever made her feel anything real was Paige.

And that terrified her more than it should.

Vanessa cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Did it mean anything?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded.

Did sleeping with Paige mean anything?

Everything.

"Not in the way you think," Clover lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vanessa nodded again, her gaze dropping to her lap. "Right."

The rest of the drive was silent, tension crackling between them like a live wire.

When Clover finally pulled up in front of Vanessa's apartment, neither of them moved right away. Vanessa fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, and Clover kept her hands on the wheel, staring at the rain streaking the windshield.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," Vanessa said softly, breaking the silence.

Clover didn't answer.

Vanessa gave her one last glance before stepping out of the car and disappearing into the building without looking back.

As the door clicked shut, Clover let out a shaky breath. The weight of the evening bore down on her, but it wasn't Vanessa's disappointment that crushed her.

It was the way Paige's name lingered on her mind like a brand, burning and inescapable. No matter how far she ran, no matter how many distractions she sought, Paige was always there.

The way the blonde's gaze lingered a little too long during practice. The way her usually teasing and taunting voice softened when she checked in on Clover after a particularly rough game. The way her presence filled every empty corner of Clover's mind, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

Because Paige had never just been a fleeting crush or a temporary obsession.

It wasn't just admiration. It wasn't just complicated friendship. She had always been something more.

It had been something more for a long time.

The apartment was quiet when Clover walked in, save for the soft clatter of a knife against what she assumed was a cutting board. She barely glanced at the kitchen, her mind clouded with exhaustion, her heart heavy with that same guilt. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and shut out the world.

But of course Paige was still up.

Clover cursed under her breath as she slipped off her shoes, hoping to make it to her room without incident. She knew how Paige operated. Knew the games she liked to play. And Clover wasn't in the mood for another round of it tonight.

"Late night?" Paige's voice cut through the silence, sharp and calculated.

Clover stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking. She set her bag down by the door, straightened, and took a slow breath before turning around. Paige was at the counter, slicing through an apple with a steady hand.

"Something like that," Clover said, keeping her tone flat.

Paige didn't look up. "Thought you'd be back later. Guess the date wasn't that great, huh?"

There it was. The edge in Paige's voice. That barely veiled disdain, like she was trying to poke holes into Clover's night without outright saying what she really felt.

Clover ran a hand through her straightened hair, none of her natural curls in sight. "It was fine."

"Fine." Paige repeated the word with a smirk, like it was a joke only she understood. She tossed a slice of apple into her mouth, chewed slowly. "Guess that's not exactly life-changing."

Clover's patience was already wearing thin. "Why do you care?"

Paige shrugged, finally meeting Clover's gaze. Her blue eyes were cool, assessing. "I don't."

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on Clover's chest. She could feel the unspoken tension between them, like a storm waiting to break. She shifted her weight, debating whether to walk away — but Paige wasn't done.

"You're wasting your time, you know," Paige said quietly, her voice softening. It wasn't a taunt this time. It sounded almost like a warning.

The brunette frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Paige set the knife down, her hands resting on the counter. "These girls you fuck around with. They're not going to give you what you want."

Clover's chest tightened, brow raised in an almost challenging manner "And what exactly do you think I want?"

Paige tilted her head, her gaze never wavering. "Someone who makes you feel the way I do."

The air between them went still, heavy with meaning. Clover froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her pulse quickened, a mix of irritation and something else—something she didn't have the guts to name—coursing through her veins.

"That's overly cocky, even for you," She responded, her voice steady but strained.

Paige's lips curved into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe. But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Clover's hands curled into fists at her sides. She hated how easily Paige got under her skin. How she always knew exactly what to say to make Clover doubt herself.

"God, you just say the dumbest shit sometimes." Clover muttered, turning toward her room.

"You're scared 'cause I'm right, Amar," Paige called after her.

Clover stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her ears, a feeling of unexplainable dread and frustration clawing at her chest.

Paige's voice softened, almost teasing. "Went straight from my bed to her arms. You always like to rebound, don’t you?"

Clover spun around, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" the blonde questioned, feigning innocence.

"Make it sound like it meant something to you," Clover near to snapped. "Because it didn't. You made that clear the first time."

Paige's smirk faltered for the first time. Her gaze dropped for a moment before meeting Clover's again. "And yet, it keeps happening."

The words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable in a way Paige probably hadn't intended or planned.

Clover swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing. "Yeah, 'cause we're both too fucked up to stop."

Paige's expression shifted—something between hurt and frustration flickering across her own face now. "Is that what you think?"

"What else is there to think?" Clover shrugged lazily. "We don’t do that healthy shit. That's how it's always been."

Paige pushed away from the counter, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. Her gaze never wavered, her expression unreadable.

"You keep saying that like it's a rule we mutually agreed on," Paige spoke quietly. "Like it's some fucked up contract we both signed."

Clover's back hit the wall. Paige was standing too close now, the scent of Clover's sweet vanilla perfume lingering in the air between them.

"Isn't it?" Clover whispered, her voice unsteady.

Paige's hand brushed a strand of hair away from the brunette’s face, a light, almost instinctive touch. But it sent a cold shiver down Clover's spine.

"Don't remember signing anything," Paige murmured.

Clover's heart was pounding, her mind racing. She hated this—hated how Paige made her feel out of control. Vulnerable. Exposed.

"You don't know what you want," Clover said, her voice deliberately bland and cold, despite the emotional chaos brewing inside of her.

Paige's hand lingered, her finger tucking the piece of hair behind Clover's ear. "Neither do you."

For a moment, Clover couldn't breathe. The tension between them was suffocating, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on her.

"You think this is a game," Clover said, her voice barely audible now. "But it's not."

Paige's hand dropped away, and for a second, Clover saw something crack in her expression—a glimpse of vulnerability before the mask slipped back into place.

"It's not a game to me," Paige said softly.

Clover blinked, stunned into silence, though she didn't let it show.

But before she could say anything, Paige stepped back, the distance between them suddenly unbearable.

"Get some sleep," Paige said, her voice quieter now, almost gentle. "Gotta be up early for practice tomorrow."

Clover didn't respond. She watched as Paige turned away, heading back to the kitchen to finish her snack, leaving Clover standing there, harshly biting down on her tongue and heart aching with everything they couldn't say.

The sound of Clover's door closing echoed through the apartment, cutting through the thick silence like a blade. Paige stood frozen in the kitchen, staring blankly at the half-sliced apple on the cutting board. Her appetite was gone.

Her hands trembled slightly as she set the knife down, pressing her palms against the counter to steady herself.

'What the hell is wrong with me?'

Paige exhaled sharply, pushing herself upright. She rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers brushing over the faint mark Clover had left there earlier — a kiss, a bite, she wasn't sure which. It didn't matter. It wasn't supposed to matter.

This wasn't supposed to feel like this.

It was supposed to be easy. Fun. No strings, no feelings, no mess. That's how it worked. Clover hooked up with whoever caught her eye, Paige did the same. They'd judge each other, throw around meaningless jabs and at the end of the day they'd be fine. Back to being a team.

So why did it feel like her chest was caving in every time Clover walked away and into the arms of someone else?

Paige clenched her jaw, trying to swallow the frustration rising in her throat. She hated this. Hated feeling out of control. Hated how Clover had walked out on her earlier without a second glance — just like Paige had done with others so many times.

'Is this what it feels like?' she wondered bitterly. ‘To be the one left behind?’

She'd told herself it didn't matter. That Clover going on a date with someone else was none of her business. That it wasn't jealousy, just curiosity. But the sting in her chest said otherwise.

Because deep down, Paige knew the truth.

No one made her feel the way Clover did.

And that terrified her more than it should.

She grabbed the cutting board and shoved it into the sink with more force than necessary, the sound of it clattering against the metal louder than she intended. She winced, glancing toward Nika and Jana's rooms. No lights turned on. No doors opened.

The last thing she needed was a groggy Nika asking her why she was slamming things around at midnight.

Paige turned off the kitchen light and leaned against the counter in the dark, the faint glow from the streetlights outside casting shadows across the room. She could still hear Clover's words in her head, clear as day:

‘Because we're both too fucked up to stop.’

Paige ran a hand over her face, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

She'd spent so long pretending she didn't care. Playing it cool, keeping her distance, convincing herself that what they had was just physical. But it wasn't. Not anymore.

And Paige wasn't ready to admit it.

She thought back to the way Clover had looked tonight — tired, defeated, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Paige had wanted to say something real, to cut through the bullshit and tell her whatever truth there was.

But that truth was messy. Vulnerable. And Paige wasn't good at that.

Instead, she'd resorted to what she knew best: cocky remarks and passive-aggressive digs. It was easier to act like none of it mattered. To pretend that Clover's wandering eyes and restless heart didn't bother her.

But as hypocritical as it was, it did.

And that scared her more than anything.

Paige glanced toward Clover's room, her heart aching in a way she didn't quite understand. She thought about knocking on her door, saying something — anything — to break the silence between them.

But what would she even say?

‘I care about you. More than I want to. More than I should. And it's killing me.’

No. That wasn't her.

Paige pushed off the counter and headed to her own room, her footsteps quiet against the hardwood floor. She paused outside Clover's door for a moment, her hand hovering in the air like she might knock after all.

But she didn't.

Instead, she whispered into the silence: "Good night, Clover."

And with that, she walked away, closing her own door behind her.

taglist (open) @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @starlighttsv @ekisokay @st4rrzynight @ohmybueckers @pbbucks

#mission jealousy #⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers series

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lonesilverw0lf · 2 hours ago

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I had this other idea right after I posted the first Mom Friend idea, only to find several more posts already made! It’s all amazing work too, I’m kinda jealous. Either I’m slow as hell, or y’all write too damned fast! Either way, didn’t wanna throw this away so here it is. Please enjoy!

Mom friend(now shortened to Mama) and Tomboy are sharing a cup of tea when Tomboy gets sleepy all of a sudden. Mama leads her to a room where MC has been knocked unconscious and dropped into a bed. Quickly putting Tomboy into the bed with MC, she covers them with a blanket and closes the room.

Goth, standing right by the door: Do you have to do that? And how did you snag MC in the first place? I didn’t even know he was here.

Mom: Oh MC was actually because of Bully and Track Girl bringing him in. It was Bully’s idea apparently. I was surprised too. Almost made my eyes open. I just wish MC wasn’t literally dragged in with all those lumps on his head. I’m sure Bully thought it was necessary, and he’s probably right, but still…

Goth: That still doesn’t explain why you essentially drugged Tomboy and locked them in a room together. Trying to play matchmaker?

Mama: What? Can you blame me? Those two are cute. Oh I sure underestimated the strength of the sleeping herbs in the tea, that’s on me. Not like I could tell how strong they were with MC being half unconscious when I gave some to him in the first place. They’ll both be out for the rest of the day at least. They both need their rest and if anyone can help MC with his anxiety it’s- wait. Are you jealous?

Goth: Jealous? What? Now you’re being dumb.

Mama: You’re jealous that they’re cuddling like we used to! You’re feeling lonely!

Goth: Now you’re delusional.

Mama, squishing Goths face: If you wanted some attention you just have to ask! It’s not like I can deny my precious twin sister anything in the whole world!

Goth, swatting Mamas hands away: No! Go away! We haven’t done that since we were like seven!

Mama, wrapping Goth up in a hug: It’s perfectly normal to want some loving! Studies show that a healthy mind and body needs a minimum of four hugs a day for just surviving, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth. When was the last time you got hugged since we were summoned here? You must be deep in hugging withdrawal!

Goth, groaning into her hands: What did I do in a past life to get cursed with you as a sister?

Mama: Oh don’t be a Grumpy Joe! You know you love me!

Goth: He was such a good kitty. Had the stupidest face.

Mama: We’ll I’m sure it wasn’t his fault he had a medical condition that made his face scrunch like that. Cmon, let’s go take a bath! I’ll wash your back~!

Goth, squirming out of Mama’s hug: No. Get away from me you perv.

Mama, smirking and in a dramatically flowery story voice: “‘Oh please Edward, not there! Not now!’ Shania moaned, ‘We can’t be doing this!’ But Edwards hands refused to stop, as if they had a mind of their own. Her breath hitched as he-“

Goth, now mortified: You read that?!

Mama: You’re the one who posted it on wattpad ya goob! And those two other websites! You also should do a better job looking after your creative journal. The amount of places I’ve found it out in the open, oh dear~. I must say, for someone who claims to be ‘one of the darkness’ you are pretty innocent in love and even your perverse fantasies are mild! Oh wait, you did write that one about that modern Duke and his ‘fun room’. Although that was pretty mellow too. Where did you get the inspiration? I know you haven’t read 50 Shades, so where did you- did you sneak into mom’s stash again?

Goth, trying to pull her hair out: Argh! You and dad both! That’s it! You just volunteered yourself to be my first cursed subject! Where’s that rat?! I need a sacrifice!

Mama, grabbing Goth by the shoulders and pushing her down the hall: You’re so tense! It’s not like I told them! Cmon, after a nice hot bath I’ll treat you to a nice massage~! Oh? And perhaps an adjustment, your cervical vertebrae don’t feel right. What have you been using for a pillow?

Skater Boy, seated at a table with Queen Bee and Flower Girl, his eyes following them and locked onto Mama’s dump truck of an ass: Now I’m jealous.

Queen bee grabs him by the ear: Now you knock it off! It’s disgusting to see men lusting after Mama! Especially a slacker like yourself!

Skater grabs her nose: Don’t gimme that crap! I see you girls ogling her just as much as any guy! Probably even more so since you all share a locker room! And don’t act like you don’t drool whenever us guys have to train without shirts on!

Flower girl: He’s not wrong Bee, on both counts. And it’s not like any of us would turn down one of Mama’s massages either. Still boggles my mind that those two are twins. They look nothing alike and I get mistaken for any three of my sisters all the time! My younger brother a few times too.

Skater, rubbing his ear: Eh wait til he hits puberty and then that’ll stop. Genetics are weird sometimes. I still get told that I look like my great uncle when he was my age. It’s more shocking to see Goth make those kinda faces. Only Mama can pull anything out of her. She’s so cooly collected with anyone else.

Bee, rubbing her nose: Me and my cousin are often mistaken for sisters too. It might help that our moms are sisters in the first place. Oh Skater, what were you doing out so late last night for?

Skater: Hm? Oh right! Thanks for reminding me. Here Flower, I was checking out the area for those weird plants that you were talking about.

Flower: What weird plants? I’m don’t- *le gasp* a whole bag of knucklebrom weed?! With the seeds and the flowers and roots and everything?!

Skater: MC helped me figure out where to even get some. He was just as lost as to why you wanted them in the first place.

Flower, smiling manically: Oh all the potions I can make with you~! Mix in some iodine, some powdered crows beak, maybe if I- *continues rambling on*

Skater, deadpan to Bee: She is such a Maomao when it comes to her plants and alchemy it’s not even funny.

Bee, equally deadpan: How has she not seen Apothecary Diaries? That would be right up her alley. Kinda looks like her too.

Skater: Throw a kimono on her, give her a haircut, get rid of her glasses, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Bee: If Netflix ever wants to do a live action of that show, and part of me prays that they won’t, but if they do they better cast her as Maomao.

Skater: You’re kidding? We talking the same Netflix?

Bee: Nah, you’re right. They’ll completely fuck it up.

Some minor backstory to the new characters

Skater boy is a slacker without a real direction in life, stays out of trouble but isn’t very dependable. Chill and easygoing, largely nonthreatening, puts in the bare minimum of work to have a good time or just vibe, got that 90s ‘yo dudes’ surfer vibe. This trip has been giving him the kick in the ass he needs.

Flower Girl runs her family’s flower shop and greenhouse with her siblings. Busy as a bee type, but only among plants and on a schedule who follows the rules to a tee. She’s becoming more confident and now is trying new things, even bending some rules. Having an alchemy instructor that’s half mad due to a few too many screwed up recipes blowing up in his face will do that to someone. Just hope she doesn’t absorb too much of his insanity.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

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invisibleicewands · 2 days ago

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‘I’m bursting with ideas’: Michael Sheen launches new national theatre for Wales

Michael Sheen, a global star of screen and stage, is spearheading a new national theatre for Wales, promising to create big, bold plays that bring vital stories about his homeland to life.

Sheen said he was bursting with ideas and promised to appear in the newly forged Welsh National Theatre’s first production, a “foundation” story about Wales staged at the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff.

The actor, who has been announced as artistic director of the theatre company, told the Guardian that Wales’s stories were “under-explored in the English language”.

Sheen said: “Could you tell me the name of the great play about Aberfan or the Merthyr Rising or the Rebecca riots? Where is our Welsh canon of great plays? We can’t do Under Milk Wood for the rest of eternity. I’m bursting with ideas people are bursting with work that they want to do with us and that’s what’s really exciting about it.”

Just before Christmas, National Theatre Wales, which was established in 2009, announced it had “ceased to exist�� after its Arts Council of Wales funding was cut. It has evolved into Team (theatre, education, arts, music), focusing on grassroots work.

Sheen said his new company did not yet have funding. “But that suits my way of thinking. I like the idea of starting small, simple, lean and building it up, working with what you’ve got. Don’t pay for swanky offices if you don’t need them, build it slowly with care and with passion and with vision and with ambition.

“We aim to represent the Welsh people so I would hope that public bodies would be prepared to work with us. I think probably history tells us that relying too much on any one source of funding makes you a bit vulnerable so I first and foremost would hope that this company can stand on its own two feet but we are open to working with whoever wants to get involved.”

Sheen said he was thinking big.

He said: “My instinct has always been, rightly or wrongly, that when people around you are saying: ‘No, you can’t have that, you can’t do that,’ to go even bigger and bolder and go, no we’re not going to do that, we’re going to do 10 times that.”

Sheen said he was not in a position to reveal details of performances but said the plan was to do one production a year. “The plan to begin with is do big plays really well for big audiences. I’m starting to commission writers.”

Sheen said he was also speaking with organisations such as Welsh National Opera and the Welsh language company Theatr Cymru about working together.

He said: “I’m talking about big bold ambitious world stage productions of plays about who we are, where we’ve come from, how we got to where we are and where are we going.

“The first production will be on the Millennium Centre stage. It will be a new Welsh play, it will star Welsh actors including myself, and it will be one of the foundation stories of who we are as a nation.” Sheen said the first production should be staged next year.

He was working on Nye, the hugely successful play on the life of the Welsh politician and NHS architect Aneurin Bevan, at the National Theatre in London last year when it became clear that National Theatre Wales was in deep trouble.

The company was close to Sheen’s heart as he starred in and co-directed its most celebrated work, The Passion, a modern re-telling of the crucifixion featuring hundreds of local people. “That was a life-changing experience for me,” he said.

Sheen spoke to fellow Welsh actors about what should come next. “I realised I was probably the leading candidate for what could happen now. My feeling was very strongly that it should be a completely new company. It should be a fresh start, a new charity, a new board of governors. I didn’t want to take something over I wanted to start afresh.”

When Nye transferred to the Wales Millennium Centre in Cardiff, the experience reinforced Sheen’s determination to launch a new national theatre for Wales.

Sheen said: “You know that phrase: ‘Build it and they will come.’ It was rammed every performance – they were bringing chairs from the bar to get more people in. The appetite for it was extraordinary and it was hugely moving to perform that to a Welsh audience. People were seeing a play about them and their lives and their history and their story. That was revelatory to me.”

#Michael Sheen #Theatre #Welsh National Theatre

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isawritesshit · 3 days ago

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The Color Blue - Chapter 3

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest; borders created by @anitalenia

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, slightly ooc! (?) gojo, mostly fluff with a smidge of tension, cat :), small signs of past mental and physical abuse, violence, death, guns, knives, bit of blood, explosion cause by gojo’s technique, mentions of bruising and choking, brief threats, bits of trauma after an attack, healing myself a little after season 2, sharing a bed, gojo teasing, brief argument, reader says something about her not caring if she dies but doesn’t mean it, cursing, gojo has scars, cuddles and secret kisses :)

Author's Note: Hello everyone. This chapter has been a long time coming, and I apologize that I fell off the face of the earth. More of that will be explained later. However, I want to thank those that did message me and have been enjoying this story so far, but we know how life can get. I had a great time writing this during what little time I had, and it's also a little longer than my usual chapters. So, without further ado, here's chapter 3 !! Remember to catch up on The Color Blue if you haven't done so before reading !! For those of you who I may have forgotten to add in the taglist or would like to be added, comment below!

Word Count: ~8.8k

Apparently, even The Strongest got the jitters. Satoru didn't think it was possible, yet here he was, his leg bouncing as he sat in the back seat of the car as it pulled up to the long, winding driveway.

He would admit to himself that he was counting down the days, and then even the hours, until he got to see you again. It felt ridiculous at this point, the quickening heartbeat knowing you were getting closer by the second, the smile he tried to hide whenever you crossed his mind.

And the... other thoughts he had of you over his trip as well. He had those a little more than he was willing to admit in your absence.

The driver pulled up to the front entrance and Satoru retrieved his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He went up the steps, opened the door...

He frowned when you weren't on the other side. He thought that maybe you would greet him in the foyer. Oh well, just meant he would have to go looking for you. Satoru started with your shared kitchen, then the living room... maybe inside your bedroom?

He opened your door, calling your name. Immediately, as if startled, you jumped up from your bed, hands behind your back, the book in your lap clattering to the floor. Satoru's eyebrows raised at your sudden movement.

"W-welcome home, Satoru! How was your flight back?" you exclaimed. Something must be-

"Mmrreow..."

A cat's soft purr sounded in the air.

"Whatcha got there?"

"A book...?"

Satoru chuckled and smirked, his arms now resting at his sides. "I don't think that was a book..."

Your face scrunched up as your arms moved from behind your back. "Please don't be upset..."

You revealed a small ragdoll cat, probably only a few months old, it's singular eye scanning before it landed on Satoru. Satoru gasped and, like a child being presented with a new toy, threw his duffel bag aside and took the cat into his arms.

You've never heard a grown man squeal. That being said, your worried face softened into a grin.

"When did you get this little cutie?" Satoru laughed, turning the cat over in one arm to pet her little stomach.

"W-well... you told me before you left that... your money is my money, and I've always wanted a cat. I made sure I did my research, though! I bought her from a shelter, and made sure to get her the required vaccinations-"

"Does she have a name?" he exclaimed, handing the cat to you.

"I named her Sugar... if you don't like it, we can-"

"Sugar! Awww, that's the perfect name!!" he cooed, petting Sugar under her chin, her right and only eye squinting as she purred. "She already likes me too..."

Sugar moved out of his arms to lay on your bed as you strode to reach for a book on your dresser. A book for taking care of kittens, he realized. "You don't have to worry about taking care of her. I have her food ready for the next few months, the best kind I could find for her breed and age, and I already have her litter set up in the laundry room. I'm keeping her toys in my room as well," you explained, already paging through the book to support your points.

Satoru looked at you from where he started to kneel at the foot of your bed, getting up close and personal with the new feline friend. He admired your sudden commitment, but... "You don't want my help?" Satoru questioned, cocking his head.

"Well, I figured since I'm the one who bought her, I should take care of her. I don't want to inconvenience you," you answered, clasping your hands with the book in front of you.

"It's not really that much of an inconvenience. The only reason I never got one before was because I felt bad that I was almost never home. But now that you're here, it makes it a lot easier. It's not like you got a dog," he reasoned, now standing to full height while petting across the fur of Sugar's back. "If you really want to take full responsibility, that's fine, but I don't mind helping. I just can't promise I can or will want to change the litter."

You let out a small laugh. "I'm okay with that then..."

After a few moments of silence, you picked up your gaze from the floor, a soft smile on your face and a question on your tongue, only to see Satoru looking at you already.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He had such sweet eyes, like blue cotton candy, and the way he looked at you with them was even sweeter. A small blush warmed your cheeks as you averted your eyes. What were you going to say again?

"Something wrong, pretty girl?"

"W-what? Oh, no, I was just... going to ask how your trip was?"

Satoru shrugged. "Meh, nothing out of the usual. Just a few grade ones here and there, but finding a special grade was a little interesting. I took care of that one too. Oh, and there was this one store-"

Satoru ended up ranting about all of the new stores and restaurants he tried out for an hour, even if you did remember some of these places briefly from your short, daily phone calls. He even paused to retrieve something from his bag at one point: a delicate antique comb with pearls in the handle. A gift, as well as something that reminded him of you.

You took it from him to arrange in your jewelry box. You found it quite absurd that Satoru was telling you more about his leisure time that he spent in Kyoto rather than the curses he fought. You couldn't tell if he was just trying to spare you the gruesome details, or he if really didn't feel like it was that important to talk about. Perhaps to him, these curses were like stones on his path to be kicked or flies he shooed away from his face, barely worth mentioning. At least, that's what it seemed like to you.

It scared you a bit.

"(Y/N)?" Your thoughts broke as he said your name, one of his hands resting on Sugar as he sat by her and the other resting on his knee while he looked at you. "You good?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine..."

"Really? You don't seem like it..." Satoru expressed, now rising from your bed to walk over to you. Since he had left, you had forgotten how much taller he was than you. "Is everything okay? I never got to ask how you were here without me..."

Your face shifted as he said that. "May I confess something?"

His eyebrows raised. "Yes, go ahead."

You held the book in your hands close to your chest. "When... when I first started to live here, I found your presence... unwanted and... a bit frightening. I got more accustomed to it and... as we became friends it had become normal. But when you left for this mission, I didn't realize how used to it I had gotten. So much so that... sometimes, when I found myself eating or going about the house or cleaning our living spaces, I would suddenly feel... I felt-"

"Is this your way of saying you missed me?" Satoru interrupted, a smug grin reaching the handsome planes of his face.

Your face flushed. "W-well, yes! But, what I was trying to get to is that-"

"I can't believe it. (Y/N) actually likes me! Maybe she won't move across the world from me after all, haha!!" Satoru gasped sarcastically before pumping his fist in triumph, to which you huffed. Satoru snickered, ruffling your hair. "Heeey, it's okay. You can admit that you missed your darling, awesome husband."

"Not just my husband. My friend," you returned, a grateful smile gracing your features. He mirrored that same smile, his hands on his hips. After a beat too long, you sauntered past him back to Sugar, who was now curled on your bed. "That being said, I think we should celebrate your return."

"Celebrate?" Satoru's eyes followed you as you walked, subtly taking the shape of your waist as you moved and shoving the ensuing thoughts deep down.

"Yes, as both a welcoming party for Sugar and for your return home," you replied, taking the slumbering kitten in your arms. "Also, mostly because I haven't had anyone to cook for this past week."

Satoru picked up his duffel bag and followed you out the door towards the stairs. "Surely that isn't the only reason you missed me?" he laughed.

"Well, nothing else is coming to mind," you joked right back, turning to him. Satoru looked back at you wide-eyed, an opened mouth grin forming on his face. Did you just... go along with one of his sarcastic gags? Telling by the little hidden smile you were giving him, you were.

This was new.

Satoru just huffed and shrugged, taking a step past you to open his bedroom door. "I think I'm rubbing off on you, pretty girl. Maybe I should've stayed away longer..."

You tried to hide your flush by avoiding eye contact, the sudden drop in octave in his voice causing you to go warm. He saw it anyway. Almost expected it at this point, given how predictable your reactions were. He stepped through his bedroom doorway, duffel bag on his shoulder once more, the epitome of smug satisfactory on his face.

Until you gripped his hand, looking up at him with eyes that could bring him to his knees. "I'm glad your home, Satoru."

It was the first time that you had ever initiated such contact. You knew it of course, and so did he. He clung to that unspoken fact, that knowing bit of trust and maybe something a bit more, as he engulfed your hand in his, giving it a small, warm squeeze.

"Me too..."

The two of you decided on a savory curry recipe for dinner. Nothing too fancy, but still delicious. Satoru chose to use the time as a way to try and test out that new found humor of yours, smiling to himself when he would get you to laugh or reply back with something witty. He'd been waiting to see this kind of side of you for a while, one that you had originally kept reserved, or maybe didn't even know that you had at all.

While eating, Satoru asked what you had been up to when he was away. "I was keeping up with my usual tasks. Nothing too special..." you said, looking down at your plate as you spooned some of the curry.

Satoru stared at you as you did, a small frown on his face. "So you didn't get out at all or do anything?" He also wanted to question why you couldn't seem to look at him right now, but he pushed the thought aside.

You shook your head, taking a bite. "Other than running errands or picking out Sugar, no."

"Well, maybe we should-"

Satoru paused.

You looked up at his sudden silence. "Satoru?"

He shushed you immediately, causing you to bite your tongue. He stared ahead, as if peering right through the wall ahead of him. He was peering right through the wall, using his Six Eyes. You could tell by the feint bits of cursed energy seeping into the room.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, Satoru peeled himself from his seat, his expression suddenly hard. The staff had gone home for the day already, Sugar was sleeping under your feet... What could he possibly be going to check?

"Stay here," he murmured, his voice low. His tone sent a shiver of fear down your spine, not just because of its command, but for whatever the reason could be to change his demeanor so suddenly.

"Satoru, what is it-" you began, your voice hushed and brow furrowed. "Stay here," he growled, his head snapping in your direction as you barely rose from your seat. You complied, inching back down. "I'll be right back."

And with that, he moved, keeping a brisk pace as he opened the door that led to the rest of the estate, and shut it behind him. Worry began to coil in your gut, the thought of what could be so wrong that Satoru would have to just get up and leave. A few seconds passed, then a minute, more minutes...

You couldn't take it. You had to know something. Even if Satoru instructed you to stay put... as long as you didn't leave your shared part of the house, it would be okay, right? You rose from your chair slowly, the wood scraping against the floor as you padded over to the door at a snail's pace, an anticipatory feeling curling in your gut. Fear, something you knew almost all too well. It didn't help that your inner thoughts at the moment were your father's voice, laying out possible consequences and outcomes-

And yet, you grabbed the handle and swung the wide oak door open. Nothing but the dark hall and the stairwell beyond it greeted you.

"Satoru?" You thought that maybe he was playing a thoughtless prank, trying to scare you all for nothing. You almost expected him to pop out from behind you for a moment. No response.

You sighed, turning to shut the door, just before Sugar slipped past you, running. Of course, after her nap her boundless energy would push her towards the one place you didn't want her to be. You lunged forward to grab her, but the kitten only ran further away, as if daring you to catch her in some sort of game. If Satoru saw her, he would know that you must have opened the door at some point!

"Sugar!" you called, running down the hall after her.

"Who wants to tell me how you found my home? First to speak up dies last."

None of the thirty armed men standing in the garden said anything, sticking to aiming their useless guns. Satoru stood before them, arms crossed, the only thing between them and the house. And you.

"Okay, how about an easier question. Who hired you and how did you get past the wards?"

Wards had been placed all around the estate centuries ago when it was first built. No one had ever gotten past them. Until now.

It was almost embarrassing, too. None of these fuckers had any cursed energy, yet he had sensed them creeping through the treeline during dinner. He would've paid it no mind, since the barrier created by the wards should have stopped them. But they had walked right on through, and the barrier probably tickled them with a shock at best. He'd have to check their integrity later. But for now...

"Do I have to treat you like my students and pick on one of you?" Satoru snickered, a hand on his hip. This was a waste of time. The sooner he could get past the easy part, the sooner he could continue dinner with you and figure out who had sent these idiots so he could pay them a surprise visit. He didn't appreciate unexpected guests, especially while in the company of his wife.

Satoru sighed. "Okay then, you." Satoru pointed to one of the men on his left, and the man's arm twisted and exploded in blood and bone, causing him to let out a blood curdling scream. The men replied with open fire, to which Satoru easily blocked with his infinity.

Some of them refrained for a moment, realizing that this was no ordinary target, and that he was no ordinary man. The men stopped firing altogether, bewildered, and watched as the bullets clattered to the soft grass in front of him as he dropped his infinity.

"Should I ask one more time?" Satoru seethed lowly, stalking towards the group. A few of the sensible ones backed away a few steps. One man began to shake.

Satoru turned his head in that man's direction, watching him. The man cried out, and fired off his automatic rifle in a fit of terror, the bullets catching some of his team. The others began to fire with reckless abandon.

Satoru began to take care of them quickly, trying not to waste too much energy as he moved between each target. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Move, apprehend, strike, kill, repeat. Each bit of blood he poured only hit the infinity barrier he kept up and blew off like rain on a windshield. But he needed to keep one alive-

There. One was running back through the trees; a coward then, someone likely to confess. He made quick work of the rest, before running after the escaping man not too far into the surrounding forest.

Satoru caught him by his shoulder, ripped his gun away, and flung him to the ground, putting his shoe to the man's chest. "Talk."

"I-I don't know-"

"Then know. Or you'll end up just like the rest."

"But I can't. I won't. He won't let me remember-"

Satoru's head inclined. "Who?"

The man beneath him let out a shaky breath, pointing back towards the house. Satoru's eyes widened, looking back and-

Someone was dragging you through the back garden doors. They had cursed energy.

Satoru teleported back in a heartbeat, right behind the person, bared hands going to wrap around their neck-

But they reacted too quickly. The person, a woman, whirled you in front of herself, holding you up by your neck as a shield. Your choking made Satoru see red.

"Not so fast, Limitless," she purred. "Step back, or I snap her neck."

It would be so easy to snap hers instead, but he didn't know her technique. He didn't know what she could do to you. He complied reluctantly, and the woman set you down and let you breathe before gently resting a jagged dagger against your throat.

The woman was clearly a cursed user of some kind. Tall, form fitting, her muscular body contrasting the elegance of her red kimono and feminine face. She flashed him a saccharine smile. Whoever she was, Satoru didn't recognize her.

"So nice to finally meet you," the woman careened. "Your wife and I have already gotten acquainted." She pressed the knife closer towards the soft expanse of your neck, the sharp edge tickling your skin. You winced.

"Satoru-"

"It's okay, (Y/N)," he breathed out. But it wasn't okay. He had been a damn fool, telling you stay in the house, unprotected. No, he was a fool for following that last attacker into the forest. He was only there to draw him out, so this woman could slip in undetected. "Why didn't you stay in put-"

"That was my doing, actually," the woman smiled, raising her other hand from your nape. Satoru tensed, but instead Sugar appeared from beside her. The woman moved her hand in a circular motion, and Sugar mimicked it, spinning at the same speed of her hand before walking off. "A little party trick. Mrs. Gojo seems rather fond of the animal, so I figured she would rush to protect it when it "decided" to run off." And lured you to the garden just so she could pluck you out.

So, mind control. That was her technique. Satoru huffed. "I will admit, I haven't seen that one before. But what do you want?"

The woman shrugged. "Why don't you guess?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, trying not to let his slight panic get to him as he saw tears begin to slip down your face. She would pay for that. "Well, lots of people have their reasons. There's always a price for my head, so it could be that, but you seem pretty smart. You know you can't kill me," the woman grinned, "so you went for her. And now I have to... give you something, I presume?"

"Perhaps." The woman began thrumming her fingers on your collarbone. "It is something that you have. Try thinking a little harder."

Satoru crossed his arms, making a show of trying to come up with an answer. "Well, I do have a lot of money, but with your talents you don't seem to need to get it from me. I have valuable information on a vast variety of top secret jujustu subject matters, but really, you don't have to go through me to get those, and, even if you did, I really don't remember anything important, I mean, c'mon look at me. Sooo... other than that I would assume you're trying tooooo get my attention? In which case then, oh, I'm flattered and you seem like a nice gal, but I'm a married man so... what do you want?"

"I want her, dumbass," the woman growled, clearly upset by Satoru's rambling. She pressed the knife point underneath your chin, your chest heaving as you groaned. "Do you know what people would do for Death Immunity? What anyone would-"

"Oh, well, you could've just said so," Satoru grumbled. "Anyway, she-"

A thousand blades lunged at light speed from the trees, all aimed for him, which he deflected without a thought. He turned his head to look at them once they had clattered against the concrete, the knives identical to the one the woman was holding against you. "Geez, did you do that? Where were you keeping all those?" He put a hand to his head, trying to peer into the direction they came from.

The woman's demeanor went from peeved to panic when her surprised attack failed, clutching you tighter in her grasp, her grip beginning to bruise along your collarbone.

"Well, as I was saying," Satoru continued, turning back to the assailant. His eyes briefly took in the woman's nails digging into your skin, his voice rumbling a shade darker. "She's already mine, so I'm afraid you've come here for no fucking reason, other than to get killed. So, without further ado-"

Satoru raised his arm with killer quickness, a blue flash from his hand near blinding you as he aimed and released it into the woman's face. Before the blast could fully take, he pulled you to his chest, turning and shielding you both with his infinity as the woman's head was detonated so fast that her vocal cords were incinerated before she could scream.

You let out a painful sob as he pulled you to his chest firmly, hunching over you with an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. Only when he felt the implosion recede and heard the woman's body thump to the ground did he stand fully and let you turn around. "Are you hurt-"

Your first reaction was to look behind him to where the woman's corpse was still smoking, or what was left of it. "No, no, don't look," he murmured, forcing your head back into his chest. You were a mess, breath heaving, sobs racking your throat, eyes puffy and still crying fat tears.

" 'M sorry! 'M so sorry-" you choked.

"Don't apologize, you're okay now. I've got you. You're safe," Satoru whispered, trying to ground you, rocking you side to side as he cupped your face firmly, bringing his forehead to yours. His hands were warm, so unlike that woman's. Thumbs wiping your tears, he stroked your cheek as if it was the only thing able to pull you back to reality. "You're safe. I've got you."

The investigation at the Gojo estate started within an hour of the attack and was still ongoing the next morning. Members of Jujustu High's Tokyo staff came to help with investigation and cleanup. After they debriefed you, Satoru asked Suguru if the two of you could crash at his apartment for a while, just until he was sure that the location of this estate and the others under the Gojo name were secure. Suguru agreed, leaving with you in tow so you could get some rest and to make sure you were well protected.

Now, those involved in the investigation met in the estate dining room. The chandelier light played off the ancient mahogany walls, overshadowed by the streams of golden sunlight bleeding through the skinny, arching windows and glinting against the many colored alcohol bottles sitting on the flight of shelves against the opposite wall.

Nobody reached for a glass though.

The first one to speak was Ijichi, having entered the room minutes after everyone else. "We have identified the female curse user," he said, passing off a matching folder to each person sitting at the table. "Her name was Kawate Kiko, a curse user who has been hired by many crime organizations and other private buyers for her skills, both in hunting humans and curses."

"And her cursed technique was mind control?" Yaga began.

"No."

All the heads turned to Satoru, sitting cross legged, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. He had switched out his t-shirt and sweats from earlier to his official uniform. "It wasn't mind control. She was able to manipulate knives telepathically at rapid speeds, at numbers probably close to 100."

Shoko set down the file. "Do we have any clue who may have hired her and these men? Or what their motive may have been? Perhaps she hired them to help her."

Yaga grumbled. "Well, if someone didn't blow her face off-"

"Sorry that I didn't give a fuck. Not when she was holding a knife to my wife's throat," Satoru said lowly and firmly. The room went quiet before he sighed and spoke again. "Things don't add up. The men, we know, were all ex-convicts and low lives of local Tokyo crime rigs, with little to no connection to one another or any part of the jujustu world. They would have had no reason to suddenly band together for a hunt like this, especially with someone of Kawate's caliber. Secondly, the man that I hunted down in the forest said he didn't know why he was there and that someone, a he, was preventing him from remembering. Not she. And with 30 non-curse users getting through the estate ward barrier with guns and armor they had no money to possess... there had to have been someone else here tonight with those assets and that technique. Someone with enough caliber to hire someone like Kawate to play along with them. Someone behind the scenes of everything."

"But I thought they were after (Y/N). Why the hell would the other guy not show himself after Kawate was killed?" Kusakabe grumbled.

"Cowardice? Maybe realizing that the entire operation was an impossible job and decided to flee?" Shoko proposed.

Yaga leaned back in his chair. "What doesn't make sense is that someone must have had access to these wards or known how to manipulate them. No one else has access, right?"

Satoru shook his head. "I'm the only person alive that should know how to work mine, but that doesn't mean someone somehow could have been taking the time to study them and learned to break them. But that would also require an insane amount of energy, not to mention the knowledge behind such ancient artifacts."

"But who would try that when they know you could detect them from miles away?" Kusakabe countered.

"I wasn't home this past week, and (Y/N) can't detect them," Satoru pointed. "They must have done it then."

"Do you know who was here, then?" Yaga questioned.

"(Y/N) never mentioned visitors. I could always ask her to see," Satoru replied. "Anyways, tell my students they have the next week off. Little impromptu study week. I'm going to find the clowns that started this," Satoru groaned, stretching as he pushed back his chair. "You guys can handle the rest here, yeah? I'm pooped."

"But this is your house-" Yaga protested, but didn't continue as Satoru meandered out the door.

Suguru let him in to his complex at 9:26am, riding up the elevator and walking down the hall to his place. Satoru always envied Suguru whenever he walked into this apartment, that he had a place to be truly his. Well, as much as Mimiko and Nanako, his adoptive daughters, would let him, with their free range on the decorating. Suguru had saved the two of them with Satoru's help from a village that meant to imprison and abuse them. Shortly after, Suguru had bought this place with what money he had amassed over the years, a home for him and the girls, one where they could heal and form a sense of new identity, Suguru included. And for him, that meant taking the two seven year olds under his wing.

Suguru said something about how had he had been going over the reports that Ijichi had dropped off before he arrived, and while Satoru was happy to catch him up, he just wanted to talk to you, see how you were holding up.

"I think she's still sleeping," Suguru informed, probably sensing his unease. "She didn't end up going to bed until early this morning. She wanted to go take a walk, but I convinced her tea would be better. That was at 4am, and I haven't heard her since."

Satoru thanked Suguru, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest bedroom, one that he had grown accustomed to staying in when the estate felt too big and he felt too lonely. He pried open the door softly, peering through the crack to see your form under the blankets, and stepped inside. He made quiet work of changing out of his uniform, picking out a pair of pajama pants you had folded and neatly packed into his duffel bag before you left, and sat on the edge of the bed opposite of you, the bed creaking under his weight.

He observed how you were curled into a fetal position, your arms wrapped around a pillow (that he instantly grew envious of), and while the sight would have made him smile, he could see the other things too. Your hair looked unkempt and limp, you were still wearing the same clothes, and he couldn't smell your usual vanilla and lavender bath oil, meaning you probably didn't shower. Besides the wanting to take a walk, Suguru never mentioned you wanting to cook or read or maybe even clean, activities that Satoru had known you to do when restless or stressed. You probably only passed out from pure exhaustion.

He hated he couldn't have been here sooner. Hated that he told you to stay inside. Hated he didn't just deal with the problem as soon as possible before they could draw you out like that. Hated that he had just come home and now you both have these other problems to deal with.

He was going to have ask you more questions when you got up too, but for now... he needed sleep. Badly. Didn't even care how much he needed a shower right now or that he was about to sleep next to you in the same bed for the first time.

Satoru got under the blanket, the bed just big enough for there to be about a foot of room between the two of you. He turned on his side and stared at your back, wanting to close that distance so desperately, to pull you right into his chest, into his arms, and to feel your warmth and your breathing against him to remind him that he was next to you, and that you were safe. To feel your hair against his face and neck, your skin underneath his fingertips.

Instead he just stared. And then slept.

When Satoru awoke again, the sun was already setting. As soon as he arose to look for you, Suguru's girls were already dragging him down towards the living room floor to stick butterfly clips and extensions into his hair. It wasn't until he was able to turn in the direction of the kitchen that he saw you stirring something over the stove as Suguru stood next to you, a drink in his hand as he spoke softly. To his surprise, you replied to each thing he said with equal calmness.

Shortly after the two of you had married, Satoru did want to introduce Suguru to you, but after seeing how you reacted to being around just him, he didn't want to put you into a situation you might be uncomfortable with. However, it seems now that maybe Satoru didn't have to worry. You two appeared to have similar personalities anyway. He's surprised he didn't think of that to begin with.

Even as the girls stepped around him from where he sat, Satoru could barely make out the bruises from where Kawate had gripped you whenever you turned to face Suguru, who seemed to have gotten you onto the topic of whatever dinner you were making. Good. Getting your mind off the past 24 hours will help you to better process everything later, when Satoru would inevitably have to ask more questions.

It was odd. Normally, you would let him know you were having visitors coming over the second you knew. Unless since he was gone you decided to not tell him, or maybe they came over unexpectedly? Whoever they were, they would only be able to study the wards from the inside, so anyone who would have visited the estate is a potential suspect. His staff had all been questioned that morning and ruled out as well, so it had to have been anyone you had contact with from outside the estate wards.

And what was Death Immunity-

Satoru's thoughts were interrupted by the girls shoving a handheld mirror in his face for him to look at his new hairdo, the white tuffs of his hair being littered with colorful bits like confetti frosting. "Wow, you two, I'm gorgeous! What's next? My nails? My face?" Satoru exclaimed, touching up his hair and making faces that made the girls squeal in fits of giggles.

"How about dinner?" Suguru chimed in, arms crossed as he stood before the three of them with a smile. In the background, you were busy pouring whatever was in the pot into bowls for the five of you, adding ice cubes into the girls' portions.

Satoru stood, letting Nanako and Mimiko drag him into a chair between the two of theirs as you and Suguru sat across from them. Suguru helped you carry the bowls filled with a veggie and beef stew to the table with glasses of water to drink. The spirited conversation of the children kept the table from going completely silent, which Satoru was thankful for, but he kept his eyes on you throughout most of the meal, watching as you smiled sometimes and nodded but never really gave much input into anything. He knew you were still trying to work through everything that happened. In fact, given your reaction, maybe last night was the closest you've ever actually been to death. The jujustu community had become so desensitized to it that even he forgot to check in on how the view of a smoking corpse or the feeling of a blade to your skin may have affected you.

Soon enough the two of you were beginning to hand wash the dishes, Satoru giving Suguru a thankful nod as he guided Mimiko and Nanako to their rooms when they tried to pull Satoru back to their makeshift salon. You and him fell quickly into a rhythm, with you washing something before handing him it to dry, the light over the dining table behind both of you providing enough visibility.

"Geto is a nice man. Those girls seem to appreciate him as well," you murmured, taking Satoru a little by surprise. He didn't expect you to speak up.

"Yeah, he's a good guy," Satoru replied. "A great sorcerer too as much as he is a dad. I'm lucky he's my best friend."

You hummed and smiled to yourself. "That's good."

After a moment, Satoru snickered, "So, you think he's attractive?"

You furrowed your brow, holding the newly washed dish away from him as you turned your face in his direction. "Satoru, that's not funny."

"You're not denying iiiitt~" he sang, smiling wider and pointing at you with the towel.

"No, I don't think that. Why would you say that?" you muttered sharply, handing him the bowl you had in hand before reaching for the soap to scrub the pot. "Well, you two seemed to be chatting it up over here while you were making dinner," he teased, laughing to himself. He didn't even know why he was asking these things. He knew teasing you was normal, but why about this? Why now? Of course he wanted to take your mind off of things but-

"He was talking to me about you, Satoru," you replied, a slightly hardened look on your face. "I don't want you to think that-"

"Think what? That you might have feelings for someone? Shh, it's okay, I won't tell," he whispered with a laugh. You were talking about him? "Really, (Y/N), your secret-"

"Satoru, why are you asking me this?" you interrupted, handing him the last pot. "Why are you..." You shook your head before continuing, opting to walk to the bedroom you two were sharing. "Wait, (Y/N)-" Satoru set the pot into the sink with the towel, his large steps quickly catching up with you as the two of you stepped through the doorway. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." "I know," you murmured, gently sitting on the bed. "I know you're just... trying to take my mind off of things, which I appreciate. But-"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have done it like that, I know. That was a kinda dick way to do it," Satoru said, scratching that back of his head. You grit your teeth, folding your hands in your lap. "It's okay... I understand." After a pause you added. "I've been worried for Sugar this whole time." "She's okay. We just want to be sure she's safe before we can have custody of her again. And don't worry, Shoko has cats of her own. She knows how to treat them good." Satoru made sure it was Shoko that got to examine Sugar and not someone that would cut her open and dissect her like some common animal. You nodded along to his words, staring at the wall ahead.

"I... the other sorcerers at Jujustu Tech. They wanted me to ask some things... if that's okay. If not we can wait till later-" he began. Maybe be shouldn't bring this up now. "Didn't they already ask me questions?" you muttered. "Yes, but..." Satoru kneeled in front of you were you sat, taking your hands in his. You almost had to stop yourself from letting out a laugh at the butterfly clips still in his hair. "(Y/N), it's imperative that you answer me honestly when I ask this."

Your eyes met his, your eyes narrowing in confusion. "Ask what? What more is there to ask?"

"Was there anyone that visited you during the time I was gone? Anyone that normally would not be at the house?"

Your mouth opened to speak, the answer clearly on the tip of your tongue. "W... why? Do you think they did this? How? Was it not somehow that woman that you-" "I don't know, (Y/N), but what I do know is that if there was anyone you would have known about being on our property that is otherwise not welcome, they may have had a hand in destabilizing our wards, and I want us to be safe so we can return." Satoru squeezed your hands once more. "Was there anyone?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Once. Twice. You sighed. "My brother, Keisuke."

Your brother? "Why did he come?"

You shook your head. "No, Satoru, he would never do anything like this-"

"(Y/N), I'm not saying he did but I need to start somewhere so that I can ensure that you and our home is safe. You understand, right?" Why were you so defensive suddenly? What did your brother do there?

"It wasn't his fault. There was no way he would have had any involvement! He wouldn't want to-"

Satoru stood. "You were almost kidnapped! You could have died-"

"And so what if I did!"

A beat.

"What."

Your hands clasped over your mouth. You looked like you were about to apologize. Satoru stood. "(Y/N)." Your fists clenched. You were probably holding back tears. "(Y/N). Don't you ever, ever, say something like that about yourself." "I'm sorry-" "Don't apologize," he hushed, now moving to sit beside you, an arm around your shoulders. "Just... you don't have to." The two of you paused for minutes, not saying a word. He suddenly began to feel guilty, both for his teasing and for pressing you for details when the attack barely happened 24 hours ago. Hell, you could have died not too long ago, and now he was treating you like this. "We can talk about this later," Satoru murmured. "It was wrong of me to bring it up." "No... it's alright," you whispered, hands coming to fold in your lap. "I'm sorry for arguing with you and... for my outburst." "Don't sweat it." "Is this what's its like to have an argument? And to then forgive immediately after?" "Yeeeep." He added a little pop at the end. "It feels wrong. But civil. But... wrong." "Well, that's because most arguments just feel wrong. I like to think of them as passionate conversations, albeit sometimes with more hurtful comments or name calling." Satoru stood and started walking to the bathroom. "But we didn't call each other names..." you murmured. "We can right now if you want stinkybutt," he replied, turning to lean against the doorway while crossing his arms. He nodded in your direction. "Okay then... uhm... asswipe." "Woah, bringing out the big guns I see." Satoru placed a hand to his chest as if hurt, a playful grin on his face. "I didn't even know you knew how to curse, old lady!" You dropped your mouth in a playful shock. "Well, I'm just imitating the best potty mouth I know, pompous bitch!" He snickered before firing back. "You little asshole!" "Bastard!" "Fucker!" "Dick!" "Motherfucker!" "Dick for brains!" "Pretty girl..." Your next insult halted in your throat, his little purr of those two words forcing a red shade to your cheeks. Before you could react, he spun into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it with a click. "H-hey, that wasn't fair!" you protested, getting up from where you sat on the bed. "What?! Can't talk right now I'm taking a shit!" he yelled back, the shower turning on immediately afterward. You just shook your head, smiling as you sighed. You changed into your nightgown, figuring you might as well lay down and wait until he was done so you could brush your teeth. Was it really only a few minutes ago that the two of us were fighting? The conversation shifted so quickly. Did he do that on purpose? While almost any argument you had ever had ended quickly, it was almost never forgotten nor forgiven. Its reminders sometimes stayed on your body for days at a time. Either way, you were grateful. He was so good at distracting you from things, even things like near death experiences. Distractions. Was this what this was? You still went to bed feeling lonely each night, but the next day he made you forget that you ever did. Maybe that was all you needed, all that anyone ever needed. To go to bed lonely, wake up, interact, forget, and then remember. You spent so much of your days alone before all of this. Does this mean you've become something normal? Perhaps. But was it still normal to feel incomplete?

You were so busy contemplating and staring at the wall that you didn't notice Satoru beginning to sit on the other side of the bed beside you, hair free of butterfly clips. Your thoughts broke when you heard the bed creak, making you turn over to face him.

His shirtless body was backlit from the brightness of his phone screen as he sat on the edge of the mattress. As he scrolled, you quickly noticed the faint scars that were littered across the impressive expanse of his back. Were they from trainings, or from actual battles? Either way, you were surprised that he had any at all because of his technique. You assumed this whole time that his skin would be completely unblemished from any kind of visible injury. Not that you're thinking much about his skin...

Your thoughts were broken again when he plugged his phone into the charger on the nightstand and turned it off. Despite your panic, you didn't move from how you were laying.

Satoru didn't seem to mind. He stretched his arms above his head, shoulders and biceps flexing, as he turned and got underneath the covers. He snickered when he found you already looking at him. "See something you like?" Satoru muttered deeply, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

He didn't need a light to be on to be able to see the color on your cheeks, but he chuckled as you tried to turn away all flustered. "Hey now, I'm just joking. I'm sorry." Satoru placed a hand to your shoulder, motioning for you to face him again. The skin of your shoulder was surprisingly cold, but that didn't take away from its silken feel. You shrugged, biting the inside of your cheek as you murmured an apology.

You'd never shared a bed with anyone in your life. It was odd, but with Satoru, you didn't feel too uncomfortable luckily. You've heard horror stories about other women sharing beds with their husbands. The snoring, the problems with space, being too hot or too cold, too many blankets and pillows or too little, the types of mattresses they preferred, etc. While you did share a bed with him last night, there was no telling if he had any of those issues since you were already asleep when he came to bed.

However, you did remember how he looked when he was still asleep after you woke up. It was... too peaceful of a look for a man that had just killed for you less than 24 hours before.

He had killed for you. And now you were sharing a bed with him.

Killed. Well, you knew way before marrying him that he had done such before. Why does this suddenly change your perception of him?

Yet despite that, you assumed he was a sound sleeper, which you could be thankful for even though you probably will not have to share a bed with him much in the future. It's quite interesting that an attack is what led to you both doing so for the first time. You'd like to wonder what would have had to happen for you to see him asleep like that without the current contexts.

What a weird thing to think about.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sweet dreams." "Goodnight Satoru."

Before long, you were realizing it was going to be very hard for you to fall asleep. You tried counting your breaths to focus on doing so, something that would usually have you out in no time.

You counted up to 256 before deciding to give up.

Your head turned to where Satoru was laying with his back to you, his breaths steady. Once again, your eyes caught the scars of his back that barely peaked over what the blanket covered.

You let out a heavy breath.

"Satoru." "Mmmm?" He's awake. "How did you get the scars on your back?" "Oh y'know," a yawn, "mostly sparring and whatnot. Maybe a curse here or there." "Oh." "Oh?"

You paused a little. "I thought... your technique prevented others from being able to touch you. I thought that..." "That I was indestructible?" He chuckled, his voice low. You shifted a little. "I'm sorry, I-" "No, it's fine. You don't have to apologize for asking." After a moment, Satoru added, "As you probably... have noticed, it's important for me to be able to defend myself without my technique to aid me, to prepare for any worse case scenario. Lot of these are curtesy of Suguru being too rough on me, heh. But... I was never always a full expert when it came to my technique, contrary to what most people believe. I had to become an expert. These just show part of the path to doing it."

You hummed in response.

"But don't worry, they don't call me The Strongest for nothing. I'm fully capable of protecting-" Satoru paused when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

Just before he could register it, you quickly moved them away, withdrawing your hand beneath the covers. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"No," he murmured, shifting himself to face you now, his head propped up by a hand as he reached to grab your hand and place it right over his heart. You stared at where his palm held your fingers against the expanse of his chest, his skin warm and dare you say inviting.

"(Y/N)," he whispered, your open gaze locking onto his sincere one, "just because my technique prevents others from touching me doesn't mean I don't like to be touched."

Your mouth slightly agape, you took in the planes of his handsome face against the rays of a streetlight coming in from the window, hitting the blinds and creating stripes against his face in the dark. One of those stripes hit his eyes, which you took in first, and made your way down, observing the clean slope of his nose, his shaped lips, down the curve of his neck to your hand and back up.

The way Satoru looked at you then, he knew. He knew that you needed him, but not in some passionate or carnal way, but in a way that someone wants cream and sugar in their coffee, or a candle in their book nook on a rainy day. Something familiar, yet more. And even if he had just killed someone yesterday for you, to protect you, he was still the person that you found comfort in each day. That made you feel somewhat worth something more than a last name a potential asset.

"You look cold." The timbre of his voice could have probably warmed you from the inside out, but only for a moment.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then c'mere pretty girl."

Did Satoru expect last night to go the way it did? Definitely not. But when he felt you take the little extra initiative to barely touch his back, he knew he had to make it go that way.

He didn't anticipate or really want anything more than just the cuddling. It didn't take long for you to warm up and fall asleep, listening to the sound of his heart. He was surprised that you didn't ask why it was beating so fast, let alone fall asleep as swiftly as you did while having to hear it.

But he was right, your body did fit perfectly against his. Your head had rested against him sweetly, cushioned by that spot between his chest and shoulder. His arms had wrapped around you, his hands finding purchase on your back and waist. The position of his chin on your head gave him perfect access to kiss your forehead if he wanted to, but he didn't want to push the boundaries too far.

Okay, maybe he ended up giving you two anyway. He tried to hold out and lasted probably about 30 minutes. He just couldn't help it! Not to mention, you smelled so good-

He was half tempted to give you another one right now as you two lay here the next morning, with you still blissfully unconscious. On the nightstand behind you two, your phone began to buzz with a call. Whoever was trying to get you awake right now could go to hell. He didn't want this moment to end.

However, even after the person had called you another time, and then proceeded to leave four more texts, Satoru figured he would see what the fuss was about.

He strained to reach behind him, careful not to disturb your slumber, as he grabbed your phone from the nightstand. Turning it on, he smiled at the already established lock screen of Sugar before noticing the messages.

Keisuke Kamo

Hey, glad to hear you're alright. Just heard about the attack last night.

Keisuke Kamo

I know I had just visited recently, but we need to talk. In person, preferably.

Keisuke Kamo

Just call me back when you can so we can set something up. Please bring Gojo Satoru with you too.

Keisuke Kamo

Please (Y/N). This is serious...

Turns out Satoru wouldn't be able to enjoy your brief solace for much longer.

Tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby--vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox @tqd4455 @stxrrielle @rebirth-of-destruction @yoichiislovie @thesoftugly @gojonegs

thanks for being patient <3

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xxplastic-cubexx · 1 day ago

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BIRTHDAY HAUL courtesy of a very lovely friend of mine 🥺

bonus goofy pics of a bday snack i had earlier with my favorite menace …..

#snap shots #ew hand reveal #I CAN FINALLY BE THOSE PEOPPE WHO TAKE PICS OF THEIR PLUSHIES EVERYWHERE #my lovely friend (same one who got me the comics) told me about the taiyaki at the place i went to !!!#it was SO goof the crisp outer shell coupled with the chewy matcha layer and the cream cheese cream center bringing it all togethr.. perfect #ANYWAY COMICS I GOT !!!! i love this first class series so of course i got more …#this set does. have issues i already down but more issues i Dont #and i said i wanted to read more scarlet witch stories this year no …. hi dötter …..#i actually wanted to see if i could find the 2016 story since i heard that was exceplent but alas #AND OF COURSE I HAD TO GET MY BOY BOBBY !!!!!!!!!!! i love him thats my son #maybe next time.. i felt so bad for my dad he had to stand around so long while i browsed for like an hour 😭#time flies in comic shops i swear its limbo… MOVING ON #lest i forget illyana ….. ill admit i know very little of course however when i saw people talking of this new series #ofc i got the metallic magik cover I LOVE METAL !!! shiny..#i figured now would be the best time to read up … the art here is FANTASTIC #the vibes are immaculate too i love the horror overlay of it… i cant wait to see more of this series #and yk. read This one thoroughly i only skimmed it djAOSJWKS AND LASTLY excalibur.#flipped through it and saw charles was the protagonist AND he was in his chair.. a must buy i fear …#i tried looking for older comics but i never have luck with that but im excited bout these !!#maybe ill get the rest of the excalibur issues- or at least read the rest online. i feel like theres important stuff in there #related to charles at least.. hey does anyone know what issues hve Danger and that whole arc with charles? i wanted that but i forgot…#cashier was like ‘excellent choices’ girl ik….. i have perfect taste… idc if you just sayin that to be nice ik the truth…#ANYWAY !! im sure im running out of tags at this point so for now FAREWELL TEAM #today was a lovely birthday and i thank the lovelies of my inbox (and just following!) for all the love today !!#ok im stretching the tag limit now BYE BYE !! ill read these later for now im sleepy …#thank you so much again to my friend for these lovelt gifts i send her lots of love and care !!! ALL YOU DO THE SAME NEOW 🫵 if you may….

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gods-favorite-autistic · 3 days ago

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Selkie Fabian with selkie Hallariel au you see the vision

Bill accidentally stole Hallariels pelt while he was pillaging in Fallinel and Hallariel fucking hunted him down

Bill fell in love the second she took his eye out but Hallariel only married him because he promised her a life of freedom and adventure on the sea something she’d never had before and she fell in love with him along the way

Telemaine was extremely protective of his daughter because he knew that like a half elf half selkie wouldn’t be very well received in Fallinel so she always hid her selkie-ness up until she left and stopped giving a shit about what Kei Lumennura thought

Part of why she left was because Telemaine refused to let her near the sea (he insisted that her mother learned to live without the sea to keep herself safe so she could too) but he finally caved after Bill stole her pelt because “I’m in danger either way at least I’m not miserable at sea”

She planned on only marrying Bill for a few years before going back home until she actually fell in love and then got pregnant

Fabian was allowed a lot more freedom than Hallariel had growing up but he was still told a bunch of horror stories about selkies getting their pelts stolen so he is very protective of his pelt

Like so protective that the Bad Kids didn’t even find out until like halfway through sophomore year (he only told them because Riz jokingly tried it on when they were all hanging out and Fabian snatched it away in a panic)

The main reason they have as big of a pool as they do is because Hallariel insisted on having someplace her and Fabian could shift

Fabian still misses the ocean terribly and travels down there on weekends he can get away

When Kalvaxus set their houses on fire he had to stop himself from running to check his room and find his pelt because his parents were in danger

When he got home after prom Cathilda immediately handed his pelt to him because she knew he’d be panicking about it

Cathilda knows about Fabian being a selkie (of course she does she practically raised him) but he didn’t realize she knew until he was about 12 (he thought he was being sneaky) so it became sort of a game for her to see how much she could tease him about it before he realized she knew

She insists on washing his pelt because he insists on storing it with the rest of his clothes and she doesn’t want it to get dirty (she always framed it as something similar to giving his selkie form a shower) but she has a rigorous washing process that she insists on doing every time despite it taking like an hour each time

The first week after she gets sober Hallariel takes Fabian down to the beach and gets in the ocean for the first time since she had him

Before Fabian she always insisted she would not become some trophy piece lying around Bill Seacasters house like most of the selkies she’d heard about who married pirates (and the she had Fabian and then…yeah)

Fabian and Mazey have a tendency to borrow each others clothes and it’s all great fun until Mazey takes his pelt without realizing thinking it’s just a regular coat (he is scared to death of telling anyone he’s romantically involved with that he’s a selkie cause, y’know, horror stories) and he has a genuine panic attack when he can’t find it

About an hour after this happens Riz (who Fabian had asked to find the pelt) shows up at Mazey’s doorstep demanding the pelt back and Mazey is just so confused

Fabian finally tells her like a week later and she feels just so bad

Hallariel doesn’t fully trust the Bad Kids until she learns they know Fabian is a selkie

Gorgug starts joining Fabian on his late night oceanside trips after they all find out (he says it’s because it’s not safe for Fabian to be out there alone but it’s really because he just wants to hang out with his friend)

So so many beach trips with the party over summer after junior year (would’ve been sophomore but yknow night yor-*I am shot in the head by Riz Gukgak killing me instantly*)

Kristen challenges Fabian to an underwater breath holding contest and like just to freak them out he just kinda stays under for like 5 minutes

He can stay underwater for a while when he has his pelt but when he got possessed on Leviathan sophomore year he had to leave it behind and when he doesn’t have it he’s kinda shit at holding his breath naturally (he never trained it because he assumed he wouldn’t have to deal with being in the water without his pelt a lot but he started training it after that)

He has control over how much he shifts when he’s in the water with his pelt so unless it’s been like a while and he’s craving the ocean he’ll usually go for just like patches of seal fur along his body and occasionally he’ll let his feet turn partially tail-like if he feels like swimming a lot

The Bad Kids think his patchy form is just so adorable (he would be fully human around them since he’s still not fully comfortable with it but the halfway form is kind of the lowest he’s able to dial it when he has his pelt in the water)

Jawbone finds out partway through junior year (Adaine makes an off handed remark about Fabian’s pelt and he was just very confused) and once he finds out he immediately starts researching the shit out of selkies

He finds out that there’s a support group at Aguefort for selkie students and he gives Fabian the information

Fabian very reluctantly goes and actually enjoys it a lot (it’s less like a support group like it says and just kinda like a place for selkie students to hang out and bond with other selkies) so he keeps going weekly

They were all very skeptical of him when he first showed up (I mean the most popular kid in school who is also the son of a world renowned pirate showing up to a selkie hangout when nobody knows he’s a selkie feels like a red flag) but he brought his pelt with him just in case to make sure they knew he wasn’t an enemy

At first he has a bunch of people giving him pity because they assume Bill basically abducted his mom but he shuts that shit down quick (“if my papa tried to abduct my mama she would’ve taken out his other eye and slit his throat”)

They are all so jealous of the fact that he actually lived on the sea for most of his life (they have a monthly trip to the beach because most of them aren’t able to go out that much and a good majority of the people in Elmville have lived there all their lives or most of their lives)

Ok yeah that’s it for now I just got selkie Fabian in my head and couldn’t get it out

#autism (mads) speaks #fabian aramais seacaster #fabian seacaster #fantasy high #hallariel seacaster #bill seacaster #dimension 20 fantasy high #d20 fantasy high #the bad kids #selkie!fabian au

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kikyoupdates · 3 days ago

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Made to Destroy ⭑˚💎⭑ 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒

bnha x op!reader

op!reader, my hero academia x fem!reader, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

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“This is... food?”

You blink, examining the strange item sitting on the plate in front of you. It’s made of several components, and when you hesitantly take it into your hands, it starts falling apart.

Aizawa frowns as he helps you hold it together. “It’s a burger. Have you never eaten one before? Sorry. I wasn’t exactly sure what you liked.”

You don’t even know what you like, so it goes without saying that he couldn’t possibly know either. But your stomach keeps grumbling loudly, demanding to be heard, so you figure there’s no harm in giving it a try.

Aizawa watches, somewhat mesmerized, as you clumsily cram the burger into your mouth. Granted, you’re just a kid, and kids are notoriously messy eaters, but there’s something about the strange way in which you’re doing it that just doesn’t sit right with him.

It almost looks like this is the very first meal you’ve ever had.

“Burger,” you mumble breathlessly. Crumbs and sauce are glued to your face, and you turn towards Aizawa in disbelief. “This is so... so good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he chuckles. “Go ahead. Eat as much as you want.”

You certainly don’t need to be told twice, and you haven’t yet learned what it means to pace yourself, so you chow down without a moment’s hesitation. Each bite somehow tastes better than the last, and you’re relieved to find that the painful, unpleasant feeling in your stomach is slowly fading away.

Aizawa rests his chin on the back of his hand and keeps watching you eat, but truth be told, he’s more so scanning you over from top to bottom.

You’re a little girl. He can’t place your exact age, but perhaps you’re about six years old? Regardless, you are far too young to have been roaming the streets unattended until a creep snatched you up. It’s possible you were separated from your parents, but so far, you’ve made no mention of it.

And then, there’s your appearance. More specifically, the clothes you’re wearing. If you can even call them clothes.

You’re dressed in nothing more than what appears to be a thin sheet, similar to a hospital gown. Your feet are completely bare, too. No shoes, or sandals, or anything else. Do most kids run around outside without shoes on nowadays? Aizawa can’t say for sure, but it seems strange.

Everything about this situation gives him a bad feeling, and the way that you’re desperately stuffing your face—as if you haven’t seen food in a long time—doesn’t help either.

You make quick work of polishing off the burger, and once you’re done, you look back at him expectantly.

“I think I’m still hungry,” you say. “Can I have another one?”

“In a bit,” Aizawa promises. “But first, I was hoping you might be able to answer a few questions for me. To start off, why were you all alone? What were you doing before that man kidnapped you? Do you remember?”

“I was just walking,” you reply.

“Alone?”

“Yes. Can I have another burger now?”

“Sorry. Just be a little bit more patient. A few more questions, and then I promise I’ll get you another one.” He laces his hands together and leans across the table slightly. “Who were you with up until you went outside? I just want you to try retracing your steps so that you can give me a better idea of what happened.”

Up until you went outside...? Well, you suppose he must be referring to the brief time you spent with Dr. Garaki.

“I woke up,” you say simply. “And there was this man. He didn’t tell me his name. But he hurt me, so I left. I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

Aizawa’s expression darkens. His worst fears have just been confirmed. You must have suffered some kind of abuse and ended up running away from home.

“The man,” he presses. “What did he look like? It sounds like he did something awful to you, and since my job is to take care of bad guys like him, it would really help if I knew a bit more about him.”

“He had a mustache,” you say. “And, um... these things covering his face.” You form shapes with your fingers and place them on top of your eyes. It takes Aizawa a few moments to decipher what you mean.

“Glasses?” he frowns.

“Oh! Yes,” you nod. “That’s what they were. Glasses.”

Talking is quite a troublesome endeavor, you’ve come to realize. Some terms you’re familiar with, while others, you still have yet to learn. But your brain forms the connections quickly enough, and it actually feels rather nice, discovering all sorts of new things about the world.

“A mustache and glasses,” Aizawa sighs, lowering his head in defeat. “That’s not awfully specific. Is there anything else about him that stood out to you? Something more unique that we could identify right away?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember much. I wasn’t there for very long.”

“And I just want to confirm, but this man isn’t your father, is he? Otherwise, you would have been able to tell me other things about him, like his name. Right?”

His question makes you scrunch up your brow. The term father... it feels like you should know it, and yet, the meaning of the word evades you.

“What is a father?”

Aizawa wasn’t expecting you to answer his question with one of your own, and it’s safe to say that his concern has just skyrocketed.

“Your family,” he frowns. “The people you’ve grown up around, who’ve raised you. Is that who this man is?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe. All I know is that I woke up today. There wasn’t anything else before that.”

Memory loss. The situation must be even graver than he thought. It’s entirely possible that you’ve unconsciously blocked out traumatic events, leaving you with gaps in your recollection. This much amnesia seems rather extreme, though. Perhaps you’re still hesitant to tell him the full truth. Perhaps the truth is simply too painful.

Aizawa smiles empathetically. “Alright. Thank you for answering my questions. I promised you another burger, so when the server comes back, I’ll order it for you.”

You’re getting another burger. You’re getting more food. More delicious food, for that matter.

The thought of such a thing makes your heartbeat quicken, and before you know it, your lips are lifting at the corners and stretching across your face.

“Thank you,” you say. This man isn’t like Dr. Garaki. The fact that he isn’t hurting you, and instead getting you yummy food, is proof of it. He’s a nice person, and something tells you that nice people deserve to be thanked.

Aizawa smiles back. He’s relieved to see that you’re not too upset, despite the circumstances.

But he's getting another weird feeling, exactly like when he watched you struggle to eat that burger earlier.

It’s as if you’ve only just now learned how to smile.

“The man’s been taken into custody. Thank you as always for your assistance, Eraserhead. And I’m guessing this is the girl you mentioned?”

Aizawa nods. “Yeah. She was hungry, so I wanted to grab her some food while you were dealing with the perpetrator.”

“I hope she’s feeling a bit better now,” the policeman says. He frowns as he looks you over, which seems to be a recurring trend. “Are you cold, young lady? Your feet must hurt, walking around like that.”

“I’m fine,” you say. “I ate two burgers, and they were really good.”

“Haha. I’m glad to hear that.” He looks back at Aizawa hopefully. “Well, I think she should probably come down to the station. We’ve got a lot of questions for her.”

“Why? Aizawa already asked me some questions, and I answered them,” you frown.

“Yes, but they’re the police,” Aizawa explains. “I’m a hero, so I fight villains, but the police excels at gathering information and getting to the bottom of things. They'll figure out everything they need to know and get you back home, safe and sound.”

“I don’t have a home.”

Even though it’s only been a few hours since you’ve taken your first breath, that much, you know for a fact.

You don’t have a home. You don’t have a place in this world.

If you want to live, like everyone else, you’ll have to forge your own path.

“I think she’s forgotten some things,” Aizawa explains. “I think it might be a response to trauma. But she’s adamant about one man’s involvement, and it sounds like that’s who we need to track down. Maybe we should start with something simpler, like locating her family. Could you find them on the registry?”

“We could try,” the policeman nods. He turns towards you again. “[Name], what’s your family name? Your last name. Even just knowing that would be a big help.”

“I don’t have a last name.” You pause, frowning slightly. “Or maybe I do? But I’m not sure. I just know that I’m [Name]. That’s all.”

Neither of them seems particularly thrilled with your answer, which feels unfair, because you’ve been nothing but truthful.

Aizawa scratches his head. “Well, this is kind of what it’s like. There are clearly a lot of factors in play, and quite frankly, I’m not sure where to start. But it’s obvious that she’s been through a lot and needs our help.”

“Of course,” the policeman nods. “We’ll do everything in our power to fix this. In the meantime, while we track down her family, we should find someplace for her to stay and get some rest. The police station probably isn’t ideal. Maybe child services is better equipped to deal with this sort of thing?”

“I want to stay with Aizawa,” you say. Of course, you don’t really understand what they’re talking about, but so far, Aizawa has yet to let you down. You’d like for him to be with you from now on.

The policeman smiles. “Eraserhead is a good guy, but being a hero keeps him pretty busy. Don’t worry. We’ll find other nice people to take care of you, and I’m sure you’ll love them.”

After what you’ve already been through, you don’t really feel like taking any more chances. Aizawa is good. You like Aizawa.

There’s no point in fixing what isn’t broken.

“I’m staying with him,” you insist, grabbing Aizawa’s hand firmly. His eyes widen at the sudden gesture, but you feel his fingers instinctively squeeze yours.

“I understand how you feel,” the policeman mumbles nervously. “But, um, there are certain things that we just can’t—”

“No. It’s fine.” Aizawa looks down at you, and as he does, his dark eyes soften a touch. “I don’t mind. If it’s a temporary arrangement, I don’t mind looking after her. Whatever helps her feel the most comfortable until you guys get to the bottom of this.”

“Won’t it interfere with your hero duties?”

“I’m not the only hero out there. Besides, if something urgent comes up, I’ll make other arrangements so that someone watches over her, but odds are that you’ll have at least found a lead by then, right?”

“True,” he nods. “A missing child warrants a lot of concern. We’ll probably start getting phone calls within the day.”

“So, it’s fine. At least until then, [Name] will have somewhere to stay. I can have her rest for a while at my apartment. And if there’s anything you need, you know where to reach me.”

The policeman nods once more, and after they discuss a few more details that you can’t quite make sense of, you are finally free to go.

It doesn’t take very long to reach Aizawa’s apartment.

“Sorry for the mess,” he mumbles sheepishly. He then stops to reassess his words. “Actually, I guess kids don’t really care about that kind of stuff.”

He’s right. You don’t.

“This is your home?” you ask, looking around. It isn’t like anything you’ve ever seen before, but you suppose that’s to be expected, given your lack of general knowledge.

Aizawa nods. “Yeah, pretty much. I’ve got a TV, if you feel like watching cartoons or something. Hopefully you can find a show that you’ll like.”

He picks up a device and uses it to turn on another device, and you jolt in surprise as moving images appear upon a screen which was pitch-black just a second ago.

You shuffle closer to what you can only assume is the TV. “There are people in there,” you point. “But they’re so small. How?”

“Have you never watched anything on TV before?” he blinks.

You shake your head.

“...huh.”

Once again, he is completely lost for words. You tend to have that effect on people, and you’re not quite sure if it’s a good thing or not.

“Maybe this has to do with her missing memories,” he mumbles quietly. But he composes himself quickly enough and sits down next to you, cross-legged. “Those people aren’t really inside the TV,” he explains. “Everything you see here was filmed beforehand, and the image was captured so that we could watch it later on. Here, let me find the kids’ channel. It’s bound to be more fun than the weather report.”

He flicks through channels until he finally finds what he’s looking for, then turns towards you, waiting to see how you’ll react.

These are... cartoons? All of a sudden, the TV screen is awash with bright, vibrant colors, which are perhaps a bit too harsh on your eyes. For some reason, though, you can’t find it in yourself to look away. Even though you are an artificial human, your mental maturity is still that of a child, and you feel as if you’re in a trance.

Aizawa chuckles softly. You’ve clearly got a lot going on, but you’re just a kid, at the end of the day. An innocent little kid who likes to watch cartoons.

For a while, it’s silent, save for the sound coming from the TV. You are completely transfixed, so you don’t bother saying anything to him, and he has no intention of interrupting you.

Someone else decides to interrupt, though.

“Yoohoo! Eraser, are you home? I see the light under the door, so you must be!”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. God, what awful timing. The sound of that insufferable man’s voice must have caught your attention too, because for the first time since the cartoons came on, you frown and look his way.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures. “It’s just someone I know. You can keep watching. I’ll only be a minute.”

You nod absentmindedly and focus back on the TV, and soon enough, you’re completely zoned-out again.

Meanwhile, Aizawa opens the door and finds himself face to face with a carefree, overbearing idiot.

“My schedule was looking pretty free, so I came to hang out!” Present Mic grins.

“Of course you did,” Aizawa scowls. “But no, now’s not a good time.”

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re getting ready for bed already. I know you like your sleep and all, but—”

He stops midsentence, because he can hear the TV playing in the background, and being the nosy bastard that he is, he sidesteps Aizawa and sneaks a peek inside.

Then, he lets out a loud, exaggerated gasp.

“Eraser! There’s a kid in your apartment!”

“Thanks,” Aizawa mutters sarcastically. “I hadn’t realized that until now.”

Present Mic takes a moment to assess the situation. He’s normally obnoxiously loud, to the point that Aizawa has to tell him to shut up, so the fact that he’s been rendered speechless says a lot about the situation.

Unfortunately, he can never keep his mouth shut for long enough.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Present Mic shakes his head disappointedly. “I never took you for the type to have a secret love child. But what matters is that you’ve decided to take responsibility and look after her. And don’t worry! I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Present Mic flashes him a thumbs-up, and Aizawa has the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“I think my show is over,” you say suddenly. “And I’m hungry again, so I kind of want another burger. Also, who’s that guy?”

Present Mic steps forward, puffs out his chest, and with great pride, promptly declares:

“I’m your uncle!”

Aizawa really should have punched him in the face while he still had the chance.

More chapters are available on Quotev or Wattpad!

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lanalosty0uu · 3 days ago

Text

⋆.˚ PROLOGUE ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

no specific warnings on this chapter slight foreshadowing of another stranger things character!

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

"Oh, no need to help, dear! I can do it by myself."

The nice 50 year old-ish lady told you not to worry about her fish pond. You're a second year high school student who just got accepted in an exchange program, and now you’re finally here, in Hawkins, Indiana.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Byers, I can handle it pretty well… My dad also has a fish pond on the back of our house.” You tried to reassure her that it’s totally fine for you to take care of it. Remembering that she can already be categorized as an old lady, it would be very cruel of you if you let her clean it by herself.

“You are truly an independent and hardworking young lady… Reminds me of myself back in the old days.” You can see her smile while looking to a blank space, probably reminiscing herself back when she was younger.

You chuckled at her compliment, slightly thanking her for saying something you don’t hear everyday, especially from your parents. Instead of saying anything further, you smiled at her before continue cleaning her fish pond.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“Please, dear. Feel free to look around.”

Ever since you got here last week, you never had the courage to explore her gigantic house. Not because it has spirits living on it, of course not! (hope so) But, it’s more like you don’t wanna disturb her peace and you don’t wanna look like you’re being nosy about her personal stuff. Yet, from the first step you took on this house, you literally fell in love. The vintage architecture, big pillars on her yard, it seems impossible for an old lady to live her by herself.

Sure, her house only has two levels, but the interior of her house is just mesmerizing. The details and antique things in this place are remarkable. If only you don’t have to control yourself, you’d already touch every single one of her things.

The only thing that you did here was to go to school and spend time with her a lot. You went shopping together, clean the house, do regular house chores, watch cheesy rom-coms or comedy movies (which you surprisingly also love). The whole week basically already felt comfortable for you.

You always loved old people. You get to hear their stories, adventures, and all what happened in the past. It seems… Very interesting, so different with what you have now. And one of the things you love about Mrs. Byers, is that she talks about her youth days a lot in the 80s! You, as a person who is a big fan of the 80s always had an open jaw when listening to how beautiful life seemed to be in the 1980s, especially in the year 1985.

“These are some beautiful watch collections, Mrs. Byers!” You looked through a cardboard box full of old clocks and watches inside.

“Those were my parents’. I was planning to give those to the antique store since I don’t really use it. But you can look around there if you’d like, dear! If one catches your eye, please do take it before people put a price on it in the antique store.”

The feeling of knowing that you can look at these old watches and actually bring them home without needing to let out a single dollar made you feel euphoric. But, you still need to help her cleaning up this messy attic, not wanting her to get asthma from breathing the dusty air so much.

“Maybe I’ll do it later, Mrs. Byers. I gotta clean these up first.”

Mrs. Byers looked at you, giving you the ‘I swear this kid never rests’ look. Yet, she just smiled. And you know deep down she’s really happy to have someone to be her company and to help her around since her husband died a year ago.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs, okay dear?” Mrs. Byers excused herself to go back to her room, probably knitting since it’s what she’s been doing at home (as far as you know). She left you there in the attic, wandering through her watch collection.

As you were diving through it, you took pictures of every single watch, especially the ones that has unique details in it. But one caught your eye… A golden pocket watch. It has golden chains, chained to the top of the watch. Tiny details surrounding the face of the watch. Since it looks pretty old, it was also covered in dust and rust, including the roman numbers that tell the time inside.

You made the watch dangle around your arms, admiring it’s old, yet timeless beauty. You started turning the clock around, seeing if it still works or not. Sadly, it’s broken. You immediately thought of the 80s just by looking at it, imagining how Mrs. Byers would always wield it and brought it everywhere she goes, even though you know this watch must’ve came from an older time… Most likely to be from the 30s or the 40.

Since you liked that pocket watch so much, you put the chains around your arms, keeping it there as you put back the rest of the watches gently inside the cardboard, not wanting to be irresponsible after Mrs. Byers let you mess around with all of it.

note: hey, i'll be publishing the first chapter like around... later! but i'll be posting it today as well (i'll try hihi ^^), lmk what r ur thoughts about the prologue so far, and if there's any of u that wants to be in the taglist, feel free to ask! hope you like this one <3

@xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse since y'all seemed pretty excited abt this, i've decided to tag y'all in this and all future chapters, really hope y'all like it and continue reading <3

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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quirekey · 2 days ago

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Can I request for D-16 with a tomboy femme s/o where she has a crush on him.

Okay i may or may have not done one-sided love until i saw the s/o… 😀 my bad I HOPE THIS WORKS

[ D16 ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ d16 x cybertronian!femme!tomboy!reader ]

READER INTRO

You were one of the casual miners who never really got involved. You had a small friend group that consisted of both mechs, femmes (this includes D16). You put consistent effort into your work and only rebelled every once in a while. You were sometimes mistaken as a mech instead of a femme considering you had many traits that conflicted with the typical femme cybertronian. You had a deeper audio box, you never cared for your looks and you were more brave and rebellious than even some mechs. Because of this, you were quite popular and seen as charismatic between other miners.

HEADCANONS

- When you invited D16 to the group, he was honestly surprised. You liked his enthusiasm when it came to his idols and Sentinel and he was just a cute guy. D16 saw you as a cool miner and you reminded him of Orion so he was glad he could make a new friend. You both agreed and you didn’t know that this simple miner would make you go insane.

- Coincidentally you guys had the same shifts so you guys had a lot of one-on-one time. Because of this, you two got to know each other faster than your average friendship.

- D16’s fanboying was so dumb but cute due to how often he’d do it. Sure, he’s independent, but he’s also pretty reliant on cybertronians who remain famous for their actions. You aren’t the type to fangirl so you’d silently listen as he went on and on about every tiny detail about some bot you never even knew existed.

- Your liking for him grew big pretty fast. He was way too cute and maybe even hot for a simple bot like him. He had so much more personality than anybody else in your group and the way he gets flustered is so fun.

- Ever since you gained a crush on him, you started to tease him more. You would call him names and playfully give him light punches as greetings. This does irritate D16 quite a bit and he tells you to stop often.

- Giving him kisses was something you could never do. You may be bold for a femme, but you still had a thing called anxiety. Your charm of being a masculine femme doesn’t help nor does it stop you, and that charm was the only thing that actually could’ve helped you try to confess.

- D16 introduced you to his close friend Orion quite a while ago, so you both got along quite well. Orion always saw you coming onto D16 and shipped both of you, calling you guys a couple and perfect sparkmates. Oh, how you would get so flustered, chuckling it off while D16 argued with Orion. This only wavered your hope that D16 would like you back.

- You always were giving hints. These hints weren’t straightforward but they were there. You thought they were noticeable but they always skimmed over D16. You would hold his hands or talk about stuff that you think he would like. You would polish yourself before seeing him but he just assumes that you wanted to get a change.

- This crush thing stayed untold till the war. Seeing the guy you loved turn into the villain of the story was devastating, especially because he was unaware of your love for him. You knew you couldn’t tell him now or ever. You felt your optics dim and your spark drop when the somebody you saw as your world was banished from Iacon. You told yourself something that would linger with you for the rest of your life.

“Why did I have to be so scared?”

#transformers #transformers one #tfone #d16 #megatron #d16 x reader #d 16 #tfo #transformers x reader #headcanons #megatron x reader #tfone x reader

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earthlybeam · 2 days ago

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Could you describę,how Thranduil's beloved has a problem with accepting her own body. Thinking that,Thranduil loves her less,which of course is not truę. Because of this,she starts to eat less,less,and less meals,and she starts to lose more and more węight. Her dress starts to hang. She is getting weaker,frailer. Thranduil sees this after a long timę,when she is already very bąd,assuring her that she is for him,the most beautiful elleth everewherę.🥺🖤🌌🧝‍♂️🔥

Trigger Warning: Anorexia

This story touches on themes related to anorexia. Please proceed with caution if this topic is sensitive for you. Your well-being is the most important, so take care of yourself and prioritize your mental health.

I’ve written this from the perspective of “she” (you, the reader), but it’s not overly detailed as I want to remain cautious and considerate. As someone in recovery from anorexia, I know firsthand how challenging it can be to navigate these topics. Writing this was both personal and difficult, but I wanted to create something meaningful for others who might be struggling or healing . I apologize if it doesn’t delve deeply into specifics—I intentionally kept it this way to avoid triggering myself or anyone else.

To anyone reading who is struggling with anorexia or disordered eating, please remember you’re not alone. Recovery is possible, even when it feels out of reach. Be kind to yourself. ❤️‍🩹🫶✨

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

Thranduil is often lost in his own duties and the responsibilities of his realm, but even he cannot miss the gradual change in his beloved. At first, it wasn’t as noticeable—small things that he might have dismissed had his keen senses not been so attuned to her presence. She would push her plate aside at meals after only a faint nibble, offering a quiet explanation that she simply wasn’t hungry or had eaten earlier. Her tone was soft and convincing, so much so that he hesitated to question her further. It was not unusual for elves to sometimes abstain from food when preoccupied, and he attributed it to fleeting restlessness rather than anything deeper.

But her habits grew more peculiar over time. More often than not, she would skip meals entirely, assuring him in gentle words that she had already eaten. Though her words seemed sincere, a faint doubt lingered in his mind. When he pulled her close during the night, wrapping her in his arms as they rested, the growing unease took root. His hands, brushing feather-light against her body, began to notice the subtle yet undeniable change in her. Where there had once been soft curves and warmth, there was now a startling firmness—sharp edges that made him pause, his brow furrowing slightly in the dim moonlight. Even then, he said nothing. Thranduil was no stranger to sorrow, to burdens that weighed heavily on the heart, and he respected her autonomy too much to press her before she was ready to speak. He told himself he would wait, that she would come to him in time. But as the days turned into weeks, his concerns only deepened.

In an attempt to ease her struggles, he began encouraging her to share breakfast with him in the mornings. He framed it as a small moment for them to spend together before the demands of the day pulled him away. She would comply, sitting across from him with a faint smile and picking at the food before her. She ate just enough to appease him—small bites that seemed painfully measured—but he watched her closely, noting the deliberate pace with which she moved. It was enough, or so he thought, to convince him she was eating, and he allowed himself to be reassured, if only for a short while. But the truth was far more troubling than he could have imagined. Once he left to attend to his duties, satisfied that she had eaten something, she would retreat to the privacy of her chambers or the nearest restroom. There, the food she had carefully consumed was discarded, her fragile body rejecting what little she had allowed herself to take in. This hidden ritual became her way of maintaining the facade, of keeping her pain and self-doubt hidden from him.

Over the course of months, her decline became impossible to ignore. Her once vibrant frame, so full of life and grace, seemed to shrink before his eyes. Dresses that once fit her beautifully now hung loosely, their fabric billowing around her as though the wind might carry her away. Her face, which he adored for its soft glow and gentle features, appeared hollowed, the light in her eyes dimmed. Even her movements, always so elegant and assured, began to seem too light, as though her body no longer held the strength to move with the same vitality. Thranduil noticed it all, though he told himself at first that it was not yet time to speak. He convinced himself that perhaps it was just a passing phase, that her appetite would return with time. But the weight of his doubts grew heavier with every glance, every moment spent by her side.

It wasn’t until a shared dinner one evening that the reality of her condition struck him fully. She sat across from him, her head slightly bowed, her hands trembling faintly as she held her utensils. He watched her take only a faint nibble of her meal before pushing the plate aside, her expression calm but distant. His piercing eyes, so often unreadable and aloof, softened with a mix of confusion and deep concern. As she rose from the table and quietly retreated to her chambers, Thranduil’s gaze followed her, his heart aching in a way he had not felt in centuries. The realization hit him with a force he had not anticipated: he had let this go on for far too long. Whatever pain or fear she was hiding, whatever thoughts had driven her to this state, he could no longer stand idly by. Though his duties had often drawn him away, he could no longer ignore the truth staring him in the face. His beloved, the one he cherished above all else, was slipping away from him. And this time, he would not let her fade.

That night, Thranduil does not let her slip away into isolation as he has unwittingly allowed her to do before. His duties and the weight of his crown have often occupied his mind, but this time, he casts aside all else. His steps are purposeful as he ascends the stairs to their chambers, his heart heavy with guilt and determination. He has been blind for too long, content to wait, to let her come to him when she was ready—but now, he understands that the waiting has cost them dearly. He will not lose her to this. Not to her own self-doubt. Not to her pain. When he reaches their shared quarters, the soft glow of candlelight spills into the hallway. Pushing the door open with a deliberate calmness, he finds her standing before the tall, ornate mirror by the window. Her arms are crossed tightly over her middle, clutching herself as though trying to shield her reflection from her own eyes. She stares at her image, her expression a mixture of sorrow and silent disgust. Her gown, once tailored to her graceful frame, now hangs loosely off her shoulders, the fabric falling limply where it once hugged her figure.

The sight of her, so lost in this quiet torment, tears at his soul in a way no battle or grief ever has. For a long moment, Thranduil cannot speak, his breath caught in his chest as he stares at her frail form, illuminated by the soft candlelight. Her gown, once fitting her like a second skin, hangs off her frame as though it were meant for someone else. The sight of her hollowed cheeks, the way her arms wrap around herself tightly, makes his heart constrict with a pain he has no words for. He feels as if the ground beneath him has shifted—this is not the woman he adores, the one who once stood strong at his side. This is someone drowning in a silent, invisible battle, and he had not seen it. He finally steps forward, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic vulnerability, shattering the heavy silence. “Why?” he asks, his tone laced with anguish. “Why have you done this to yourself, meleth nîn?” At the sound of his voice, she flinches, her arms tightening across her middle as though trying to protect herself from the weight of his words. She does not turn to face him, staring instead at her reflection, the shame and self-loathing in her eyes unbearable even to herself. Her voice, when she finally speaks, is brittle, as if it might break under its own weight. “Because… because I thought if I could just be better—if I could be worthy—maybe you would—” She cuts off, swallowing hard, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her.

Thranduil’s chest tightens as her words sink in, each one a dagger to his heart. “Stop,” he commands gently, though the sorrow in his voice makes it a plea more than an order. He takes another step closer, his movements slow, as if afraid she might break apart before his eyes. But she still doesn’t face him, her shoulders shaking as silent tears fall. “I look at myself,” she whispers, her voice breaking with every word. “And I see someone… weak. Someone ugly. Someone you couldn’t possibly still love. You deserve better—someone beautiful, someone strong, someone—”

“Someone like you,” he interrupts, his voice unsteady but firm, his own pain now laid bare. His hands rise, trembling as he gently turns her to face him. The sight of her tears, of her fragile frame, threatens to undo him, but he holds steady. He cups her face, his thumbs brushing the tears from her cheeks. “You do not see what I see,” he says, his voice low but thick with emotion. “You do not see how every part of you—the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way your very presence lights my path—makes this world brighter. You are not weak, nor ugly, nor unworthy. You are everything to me. You are my heart, my light. You have always been enough.” His voice cracks on the last word, and for the first time in an age, Thranduil’s regal composure breaks.

Her hands come up to grip his wrists as though anchoring herself to his words, but still, she shakes her head. “I… I don’t feel it,” she admits, her voice trembling, her tears falling harder now. “I don’t feel like enough. I feel broken, Thranduil. I feel like I’m fading away, and I don’t know how to stop it.” Her confession cuts him deeper than he ever thought possible. He pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly as though his embrace alone might keep her from slipping through his fingers. “Then let me hold you together,” he whispers, his voice raw. “Let me remind you every day, every hour, if I must. If I have failed you—if I have not shown you just how much I love you, how much you mean to me—then it is I who must ask forgiveness.”

She sobs quietly into his chest, her fragile frame trembling in his arms, and he holds her as if she is the most precious thing in the world, his heart breaking for her pain. “But promise me,” he whispers, his voice shaking, “promise me you will not fade from me. I cannot lose you, meleth. You are the root of my heart. Without you, I am nothing.” For a long moment, they stand there in the quiet of their chambers, her tears soaking into his robes as he holds her as though his very life depends on it. And perhaps it does—for in her, Thranduil sees not just his love, but his purpose, his joy, his everything.

In the days that follow, Thranduil becomes relentless in his devotion. He refuses to let her battle this darkness alone. Meals are no longer solitary; he invites her to eat with him, crafting each moment with care, ensuring she feels cherished rather than scrutinized. His words are tender, laced with love and affirmation, as though he is weaving a tapestry of reassurance around her heart. When she falters—when the doubt resurfaces like a shadow in her mind—he does not let her fall. He takes her hand, guiding her into the sunlight of the forest, walking with her through the golden glades and quiet streams. He speaks not only of her beauty but of her spirit, her strength.

“You are no less a part of this world’s beauty,” he tells her one day as they stand beneath the sunlight streaming through the canopy. “You are its center. Without you, the stars would dim, the forests would fall silent, and my heart… my heart would break.” Day by day, she begins to heal. The despair that once gripped her loosens its hold as his love surrounds her, unwavering and infinite. He does not rush her, nor does he expect perfection. He meets her where she is, every moment reminding her that she is enough, that she is loved, that she is his. To Thranduil, she is perfection—not for her outward appearance, but for the light within her, the love she has always given so selflessly. He remains steadfast, a king brought to his knees by the one he loves above all else. For her, he would wait an eternity. For her, he would give everything. And in time, as the shadows lift, he knows she will see herself as he does: beautiful, strong, and deeply, endlessly loved.

Thranduil, with the depth of his love and devotion, took it upon himself to help his beloved heal, piece by piece, moment by moment. Each day, he made it his mission to remind her of her worth, to show her that his love for her was unshakable and infinite. He didn’t merely speak his love—he lived it, weaving it into their daily lives with a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt.

The Mornings: Each morning, Thranduil would wake before her, lying still so as not to disturb her rest. As she stirred awake, he would press gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and the corners of her lips, whispering softly, “Good morning, meleth nîn. You are my first thought of the day and my greatest joy.” If she resisted joining him for breakfast, citing a lack of hunger, he would never pressure her. Instead, he would bring a tray to their chambers, filled with small, carefully chosen foods he knew she liked. “Just a little,” he would encourage, sitting beside her and eating with her so she would never feel alone. He never commented on how much she ate but celebrated each bite with soft smiles and warm words, making the experience gentle and unthreatening.

The Midday: As his duties called him to the throne room or council chambers, Thranduil would often find ways to keep her connected to him, even when they were apart. He sent her small notes, written in his elegant script, left where she would find them—a book she had been reading, a favorite resting spot by the window, or even tucked among the blooms of her favorite flowers. Each note carried his thoughts, like: “The world feels lighter knowing you are here.” “Your smile outshines the sun, meleth. I will see it again today, won’t I?” But it wasn’t just his words he offered. On days when her strength waned and she couldn’t bring herself to join him outside, Thranduil would bring the beauty of the forest to her. He would gather blossoms from the woods, arranging them in delicate patterns on her desk or beside her bed, whispering, “Even the most perfect bloom pales beside you.”

The Evenings: The evenings were sacred to Thranduil—time he could dedicate entirely to her. He would often draw her a warm bath, filling it with soothing oils and the petals of her favorite flowers. He would help her undress, and though she hesitated at first, he would take her hands in his and kiss her palms, whispering, “There is nothing here that is unworthy, meleth. Nothing I do not love.” When she let him, he would kneel beside the bath and gently wash her, his fingers tracing over the parts of her body she had grown to loathe. Her collarbones, once hidden, now too sharp in her eyes, he would kiss with reverence. Her arms, which she thought too thin, he would cradle, pressing his lips against them softly. “Each part of you is a piece of my world,” he murmured. “Without one, I would be lost.” Afterward, when she was clothed and resting, he would take her in his arms, trailing kisses over her skin. If she tried to turn away, he would stop her with a hand on her cheek, his eyes piercing yet soft. “Do not hide from me,” he would say, his voice heavy with emotion. “You are mine to love, wholly and without condition.” Every night before bed, he would kiss every part of her that she had grown to feel insecure about. Her wrists, her shoulders, her ribs—wherever her own fingers lingered in shame, his lips followed in devotion. He would press his lips gently to her stomach, his hands resting there with a tenderness that made her heart ache. “Here,” he would whisper, “is where life and beauty dwell. Here is perfection.” He would trail his kisses lower, over her thighs, her knees, and down to her ankles, his lips brushing the places she thought unworthy, as though he could erase every doubt with his touch. He kissed the curve of her hips, the small of her back, her collarbones, and even her fingertips, murmuring soft words of love with every press of his lips. “Here,” he said with quiet reverence, “is strength. Here is grace. Here is the one who keeps my heart beating.” No part of her was ignored, no inch of her body was left untouched by his worship. And in his touch, there was no hesitation, no doubt—only love, pure and unshakable, reminding her with every moment that she was cherished beyond measure.

The Small Things: Beyond the grand gestures, it was the little, unspoken acts of love that began to rebuild her confidence and trust in herself. Thranduil was attentive to her smallest needs, anticipating them before she even realized. If she shivered, he would wrap his cloak around her shoulders. If her hands trembled, he would take them in his own, rubbing warmth into her fingers. He began to guide her to the world outside their chambers again, never pushing but always encouraging. Together, they would walk the forest paths, and he would tell her stories of the ancient trees, the history of the land they walked upon. But always, his words would circle back to her. “These trees have seen thousands of years,” he once said, standing beneath the great canopy of the Greenwood. “And yet, it was not until you walked beneath them that they truly knew beauty.”

The Nights: At night, as they lay together, Thranduil would pull her close, her body pressed against his as he stroked her hair. “I will always love you,” he would whisper into the quiet darkness. “There is nothing you can do, nothing you could be, that will change that.” When she cried, overcome by the weight of her emotions, he would hold her tighter, his voice steady as he whispered reassurances. “You are not broken,” he would say again and again. “You are healing. And I will be here for every step, for every moment, for as long as you need me.” Sometimes, when words weren’t enough, he would sing to her, his voice low and melodic, the ancient elvish songs of love and light filling the space between them. These were his prayers for her, his promises woven into melody.

The Healing: Thranduil knew the path to healing would be long and fraught with setbacks, but he never faltered. When she doubted herself, he reminded her of her strength. When she pushed him away, he stayed. When she felt unworthy, he held her and whispered his love until she could no longer deny its truth. Through his daily acts of love—his unwavering attention, his patience, his gentleness—she began to see herself through his eyes. And though the darkness did not leave entirely, it no longer held her captive. Slowly, with Thranduil’s steady hand and boundless love, she began to find her way back to herself. And to him.

#thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #elven thranduil #thranduil headcanons #thranduil oropherion #thranduil of mirkwood #thranduil simps #thranduil supremacy #king thranduil #king thranduil x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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wlwsoccerfics · 2 days ago

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Sweet Dreams(Mapi&Ingrid)

Warnings: Google translate used, it's quite short

Summary: Their daughter is struggling with sleeping cause of nightmares.

Two year old Svea Catalina Engen Cebrián was the light of her moms lifes. They would do anything for her. Mapi was probably even more protective then Ingrid.

Might have been cause she reminded her so much of Ingrid but with blonde hair like herself. She really was the perfect mix of them both.

Ingrid helped Svea put on her pjs, they were Peppa Pig ones. The little girl was putting up quite the fight. "Mama No dormir(sleep)." Svea whimpered, trying to wiggle out of Ingrids arms. Only wearing underwear and her pj top. "Svea! come back!" Ingrid yelled out. "We need to wear pants!" She added. Mapi was walking out of the kitchen and quickly grabbed the little Girl, picking her up. "pequeñito(very small, tiny), we don't run away from mama! And you need to wear pants!" Mapi told her daughter. "Mami No pants! No dormir!" The little girl started screaming and crying now. Both things that were really unusual for Svea. So Mapi & Ingrid eyed one another. Knowing something must be really wrong. It was true. The two year old had trouble with sleeping cause she was scared of having another bad dream. the nightmares always felt way too real for the little girl.

Mapi sat down with Svea on the couch, Ingrid grabbed a blanket to put over Mapi and their daughter. Hoping the little girl would calm down more. She was still fighting her moms but when Mapi sang her a Spanish lullaby & rocked back and forth with the little one in her arms, Svea relaxed. Holding onto Mapi, while Ingrid was playing with her hair. "pequeñito, ¿qué ocurre?(What's wrong?)" She asked. "Sleeping scary." The two year old explained to her moms. It did all make sense to Ingrid and Mapi now. Their daughter didn't know how to voice her struggles but finally they understood. "You can sleep in our bedroom." Mapi promised her daughter. "With Mama and Mami?" Svea wanted to make sure she understood this right. "Yes of course!" Ingrid let her know.

The two were even allowed to put the pj pants in Svea before the two got ready for bed themselves. It was only 7pm but they just wanted to get their daughter to sleep and rest. So they would also lay down. Ingrid was reading Svea a story while the little girl was cuddled up into Mapis side, laying inbetween her mami and mama. Her stuffed lion named Roar was in her arms as well. And very soon the little girl feel asleep.

She woke up once that night around 1am cause she had a bad dream and her mommies both cuddled up to her closer, whispering sweet nothings into her ears which made Svea fall back to sleep again within a few minutes.

They had to make sure that Svea was gonna be comfortable in her own bed again soon but that was a Mission for another night.

#womens soccer #womens football #woso #soccer #mapi leon #mapi león #mapi and ingrid #ingrid engen #fc barcelona

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imstillalexcomic · 1 day ago

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I just discovered you and I really love how you like tell your story’s. I am still partially closeted and you inspire me!!

I haven’t seen you say anything (or at least remember you saying anything about this),

But if you don’t mind me asking and it’s not too invasive, do your parents know/ if they do how did they react if you told them?

I wish you the best!!

Not too invasive at all! I wanted to start making comics again to explore my feelings regarding transitioning and to be as visible as I can be. I welcome the questions and want to answer as much as I can as best as I can. There wasn't really any trans media or creators that I was aware of when I was a kid (I'm 36 now), so I want to do what I can to be a resource. Everyone's situations are going to be different so my experiences won't necessarily mean yours will turn out exactly the same, but information can be handy and I certainly wish I had more of it when I was younger.

At some point in the future, I'm planning on having strips dealing with my parents, but a very truncated version of it is the following:

Coming out to my mother was tough since there are a lot of issues there. It was a very long monologue that didn't even get to my gender identity for about 30 minutes, I needed to set the stage for the "coming out" part of the speech.

For the most part, everything went really well! The issues I have with her still exist and likely always will, but she absolutely accepts me. She phrased things something like, "It always seemed like something was bothering you, and I'm glad to finally know now part of what it was." She followed up with saying that she only cares about my happiness and if this is what makes me happy then she's all for it.

As a note, coming out to my mom was preeeeeeeetty recent actually. Outside of my wife, close friends, and twin sister, literally no one else knew until this year when I started transitioning. I only told my mother and in-laws in early November, then the rest of my family at Thanksgiving, then publicly came out with a comic the next day on Friday.

Regarding my dad, well... he passed a little over ten years ago. This is something that I never got the chance to talk with him about. Given the type of person he was, I do genuinely believe that he'd be supportive, but similar to my mom there are issues that would have remained even if he were still around.

Wishing you the best, and thank you for the question!

#trans #trans woman #transgender #genderqueer #trans community #trans pride #i'm still alex #coming out #lgbt #lgbt community #lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer #queer community #mtf #trans experience

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

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3 random words with Brock Reynolds? How about time, evaluation and behaviour ?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hufflepuffgirl @fanny-123456 @caffeinatedwoman @alexlynn16

Companion piece to:

Buried Socks: Ceberus has a unique way of showing how much he misses you.

Hammer: You realise you can't give Brock what he wants.

Duty Calls - You and Brock discuss starting a family in between tours.

Ask Me Again - A bad day leads Brock to ask a surprise question.

You fail your psych eval.

You tell the mental health officer about the dark thoughts you’ve been having, the nights you close your eyes and you see the faces of your targets right before their heads explode, a symptom of your bullet.

They should sign you off on leave, restrict you to a desk but they don’t instead they deploy you, rubber stamping the documentation with a pass because your country needs you, it always needs you and that’s the problem, the constant unrelenting barrage of obligation.

“You need to sleep.” Brock says the evening before the deployment, his lips brushing over your temple. “You’ve barely been to bed these last couple of nights.”

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, your sniper rifle laid out in front of you as you clean each individual piece with a thoroughness that borders on pathological behaviour.

“I don’t like what I see.” You say quietly, your eyebrows furrowed as you focus on oiling the barrel of the weapon. “When I close my eyes.”

He slips down into the seat across from you, his expression one of concern as he studies you.

“How long has that been going on?” He asks you and you set the barrel down before you pick up the stock.

“Weeks, maybe months.” You say despond. “I told them at my last eval, the solution’s the same as it always is, deployment.”

It’s happened before then. Brock understands in that moment, what you are to the Army. A tool to be used, one that fractures with every single task until it breaks, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

“You can’t go.” He tells you, his voice a harsh whisper. “Flo, you can’t make that deployment tomorrow, not if your head’s not in it. You’ll get yourself killed…”

“It’s part of the job isn’t it?” You say as you start to reassemble the weapon. “You know that as well as anyone.”

Every click is a harsh echo that vibrates through the room, another precursor to the hit he knows that’s coming if he lets you leave tomorrow morning.

“Flo, I can’t let you go.” He says, his hands coming to rest on yours stilling your movements, forcing the rifle back down onto the table. “You know that don’t you?”

You look at him then and there’s nothing in those eyes of yours, just a deep, fathomless darkness that seeps into the very depths of his soul. That’s how he knows the choice he’s about to make, it’s the right one, the one that’s going to save your life.

“If you have me committed, my career is done. They’ll never let me pick up a rifle again.” You tell him and Brock searches your gaze looking for any flicker of emotion at the thought.

“Is that what you want?” He asks you as you release your grasp on the weapon, setting it down for the last time. “For all of this to be over?”

“Yes.” You say. “I think I’m done.”

Love Brock? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#brock reynolds #brock reynolds x reader #seal team

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antinousletmehit · 2 days ago

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hi! 👋 can you pretty please write more polities x reader? He’s adorable and I would love to see more polities x reader fanfic stories maybe of him getting home and after he helps ody with the suitor problem, he runs straight to his wife, reader, who has also been waiting for him and he get done onto his knees and hugs her sobbing 😭 almost ugly crying on how sorry he is that he was gone for so long and beg for forgiveness

Or maybe of polities gets turned into a pig by Circe because he ate food with the crew even though he is a sweetheart and reader starts fawning over his adorable pig form with glasses and red bandanna

sorry so many cute short stories ideas involving polites and other characters from epic love your writing though 😍

୨୧┇pairing: Polites x reader

୨୧┇I don’t get enough requests for him ngl

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

After twenty long years, he was finally home.

He dropped his sword, the clang echoing in the silent hall, and turned to Odysseus. “My king, with your leave…” Odysseus, though weary, gave him a knowing nod. “Go to her, Polites.”

Polites didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted from the hall, his heart pounding as he ran through the familiar streets of Ithaca. The village had changed in some ways, new faces, new buildings, but his feet knew the way. They carried him to the small cottage on the outskirts of town, the one he had built with his own hands before the war.

The moment he saw the warm glow of firelight through the window, his breath hitched. You were inside. You were there.

He pushed open the door, his voice breaking as he called out, “Y/N?”

You turned from where you stood near the hearth, and the world seemed to stop. Your eyes widened, your hand flying to your mouth as you took him in. disheveled, bruised, and teary eyed, but alive. “Polites,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t trust himself to speak. He crossed the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees in front of you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he buried his face against you, his shoulders shaking with sobs. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice muffled. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You froze for a moment, stunned, before your hands came up to thread through his hair. “Polites…”

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he cried, clinging to you like a drowning man clings to a lifeline. “I didn’t mean to—gods, I thought I’d never see you again. I thought…I thought you’d have moved on, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. I—”

“Polites,” you interrupted gently, pulling back just enough to tilt his tear streaked face up to yours. “Stop. You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

“But I left you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I left you alone for twenty years. How can you forgive me for that?” Tears welled in your eyes as you knelt down, cupping his face in your hands. “You didn’t leave by choice. You went to war to protect our home, our people. And you came back to me. That’s all I ever hoped for.”

His lip quivered as he stared at you, his brown eyes filled with so much love and regret that it nearly broke your heart. “I don’t deserve you.”You smiled softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You’re wrong. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Polites.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “More than anything. More than words can say.”

“I love you too,” you murmured, your own tears falling freely now.

For a long moment, the two of you simply held each other, the weight of twenty years melting away in the warmth of your embrace. Polites vowed then and there to spend the rest of his life making up for the time you’d lost, cherishing you with every breath he had left.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #polites x reader #polites #epic polites

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w1w2 · 1 day ago

Text

Skating the Divide

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Skating on Thin Ice

Myoui Mina x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: On the ice, every move tells a story. For two skaters with opposing styles, the competition is more than just a test of skill. It’s a clash of worlds.

Notes: I'm not 100% satisfied with the outcome. Maybe I'll rewrite it in the future. LMK your thoughts babes!

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The locker room was silent, the echo of skates against ice still lingering in Mina’s ears as she sat on the bench, her head resting in her hands. Practice had ended hours ago, but Mina hadn’t moved. Her bag sat untouched at her feet, her thoughts tangled in a web she couldn’t escape.

Y/N’s coldness had been unbearable.

It wasn’t just the sharp tone in her voice or the distance in her eyes, it was the complete absence of the warmth that had once made their partnership come alive. The playfulness, the teasing, even the arguments, they were all gone, replaced by a wall that felt impenetrable.

And Mina hated it.

She hated the silence that had replaced their banter, the awkwardness that had crept into their routines. She hated the way Y/N avoided her gaze, her touches on the ice now fleeting and impersonal. But most of all, Mina hated the gnawing ache in her chest every time Y/N skated away without a word.

“What am I doing?” Mina murmured to herself, her voice barely audible in the empty room.

She had thought the frustration she felt was professional, tied to the performance, to the pressure of the competition. But now, with the rink quiet and no one left to distract her, Mina could no longer ignore the truth.

This wasn’t just about skating.

Unable to sit still, Mina rose and made her way back to the rink. It was silent, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Mina stepped onto the ice. She pushed off slowly, her skates gliding across the smooth surface with a softness that mirrored the quiet ache in her chest.

She didn’t have a plan, no routine to rehearse or move to refine. She just needed to feel the ice beneath her feet, to let the familiar rhythm of skating guide her restless thoughts.

But her thoughts weren’t quiet.

They pulled her back to the beginning, to that first lift they’d managed to get right after days of trial and error. Mina remembered how Y/N had laughed, her face glowing with triumph as she spun away from Mina with her arms raised in victory.

“See? Told you we’d get it!” Y/N had said, her grin so wide it was impossible not to smile back.

Mina had smiled, she realized now, even though she hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time. There had been something infectious about Y/N’s energy, the way she seemed to believe in them even when Mina had doubted it.

She skated a little faster, her movements picking up pace as more memories surfaced. Late-night practices came to mind, the ones where exhaustion hung heavy in the air, but they’d kept going anyway.

She remembered the way Y/N had teased her, her voice light and playful even as Mina struggled to hide her fatigue. “Come on, Myoui. You can’t let me outshine you!”

Mina had rolled her eyes at the time, muttering something about focus and discipline. But now, she could see the warmth behind Y/N’s teasing, the way she had always found a way to lighten the weight of the rink.

Then there was that lift, the one they’d finally perfected after weeks of frustration. Mina had hesitated, her instincts fighting against the trust required to let Y/N guide her. But when it happened. When Y/N had lifted her effortlessly, their movements in perfect sync, it had felt... freeing.

Mina’s breath hitched as she remembered the look Y/N had given her after she landed, their eyes meeting in a moment that felt too big to name.

She trusted me, Mina realized, her chest tightening. And I trusted her.

Her movements slowed again, her skates carving soft curves into the ice as she thought of the present, of Y/N’s coldness, her forced smiles, the way she barely looked at Mina anymore.

The memory of Y/N’s trembling voice cut through her like a blade “I already know what you think of me, Mina.”

Mina closed her eyes, guilt swirling in her chest. How had she let things get so far? She thought of every time she’d kept her distance, every time she’d let her frustration speak instead of her heart.

I didn’t mean it like that, Mina thought desperately, but it didn’t matter. Y/N hadn’t heard what Mina meant, only what Mina had said.

Mina exhaled shakily, her hand brushing against the fabric of her sleeve as if trying to steady herself. She glided to the center of the rink and came to a stop, the soft sound of her skates fading into silence.

The memories swirled in her mind. The laughter, the trust, the way Y/N’s energy had drawn her in even when she didn’t want to admit it.

Why does this hurt so much?

And then, the answer came.

Mina’s chest tightened, her breath catching as the truth settled over her with the weight of a revelation she could no longer deny.

She cared about Y/N.

Not just as a skater. Not just as her partner.

She cared about Y/N, the person who had thrown herself into their routines with fearless passion, who had made Mina laugh when she didn’t think she could, who had made her feel things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

I don’t want her to leave.

The thought hit her with the force of a jump landed off-balance. Mina pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the wild rhythm of her heart. The ache that had been building for days finally made sense, it wasn’t just the partnership she was afraid of losing.

It was Y/N.

“I care about her,” Mina whispered aloud, her voice trembling as the words settled into the air. Saying it made the feeling real, undeniable.

Her breath hung in the cold air, but she barely noticed. All she could see was the emptiness surrounding her, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside.

Mina exhaled sharply, her breath fogging the air as her gaze swept across the empty rink. She had spent too much time turning the situation over in her head, dissecting her mistakes and replaying every word she’d said or hadn’t said.

But now, those questions no longer mattered.

What mattered was Y/N.

Mina’s fingers tightened at her sides as a surge of clarity broke through the fog of guilt and confusion. She couldn’t afford to linger here, wallowing in her regrets. Every second she spent hesitating was another second Y/N might slip further away, another second the wall between them grew taller and harder to climb.

No more waiting. No more excuses.

A faint tremble ran through her hands, but Mina refused to let it slow her down. She pushed off the ice again, her skates carving clean lines into the surface as she moved with growing purpose. The familiar rhythm of skating steadied her, her movements deliberate and sharp.

Her mind raced as she skated, every thought converging into a single, undeniable truth:

Mina again replayed the moments they’d shared, not just the trust they’d built on the ice, but the laughter, the teasing, the quiet glances that had lingered a little too long. Those moments had meant something. Mina had felt it in every shared smile, every fleeting touch, every time Y/N’s gaze had softened in a way that made Mina’s heart beat faster.

I didn’t just trust her. I let her in.

That realization hit like a jolt, her chest tightening as the weight of her feelings settled into place. Y/N wasn’t just her partner on the ice. She wasn’t just the fearless skater who made every performance feel alive.

Y/N had become someone Mina relied on, someone she admired, someone she cared about more than she had allowed herself to admit.

Mina came to a stop near the edge of the rink, her skates stilling as her thoughts crystallized into resolve. She had spent her whole life chasing perfection, believing that discipline and control were the only paths to success. But Y/N had shown her something different, something wild and unpolished but undeniably beautiful.

Mina had been afraid of that chaos, afraid to let go of the rules that had shaped her. But now, she saw what that fear had cost her. She had pushed Y/N away, whether she’d meant to or not. And in doing so, she had risked losing the one person who had made her feel truly alive on the ice and off.

“I can’t let her go,” Mina murmured, her voice barely audible in the quiet rink.

Her pulse quickened as the thought solidified into a decision. She didn’t know exactly what she would say or how she would fix things, but she couldn’t let this distance between them remain.

For the first time, Mina wasn’t afraid of the vulnerability that came with caring. She wasn’t afraid of being messy, of saying the wrong thing, of letting Y/N see the cracks in her armor.

Because Y/N deserved that honesty. She deserved to know how much Mina respected her, admired her, and Mina’s heart stuttered as the word surfaced, needed her.

With a deep breath, Mina pushed off the ice one last time, skating toward the edge with renewed determination.

She wasn’t going to lose Y/N.

Not to a misunderstanding. Not to fear. It was time to fight for her.

The rink was quieter than usual the next morning, the faint hum of the lights echoing across the empty space. Mina arrived early, her steps measured as she made her way to the ice. Her chest felt heavy, a mixture of anticipation and dread, but her mind was made up.

She had barely slept, her thoughts circling endlessly as she rehearsed what she needed to say. But no matter how many times she played it out in her head, the outcome remained uncertain. Y/N had every reason not to listen, every reason to turn away.

But Mina had to try.

Y/N entered the rink with her usual stride, her face set in a mask of indifference. But Mina knew her too well by now. She could see the tension in Y/N’s shoulders, the stiffness in her movements as she dropped her bag onto the bench and began lacing her skates.

Y/N didn’t glance in Mina’s direction, didn’t offer the usual quip or half-smile that had once brightened their mornings. The silence between them felt heavier than the cold air of the rink, and Mina’s heart sank.

She couldn’t let this go on. Not anymore.

Mina swallowed hard, skating toward Y/N with a nervous energy she wasn’t used to. She was Mina Myoui, poised, confident, and disciplined. But now, her chest felt tight, her hands clammy, and her heart beat like a drum as she drew closer.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her voice catching slightly.

Y/N paused, her hands freezing mid-lace. She didn’t look up. “What?”

The single word was clipped, defensive. It stung more than Mina had expected, but she pressed on, her determination outweighing her fear. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her tone quieter now, almost pleading.

Y/N scoffed lightly, finishing her laces and rising to her feet. “Don’t,” she said briskly, stepping onto the ice. “Whatever it is, just don’t.”

But Mina wasn’t about to let her skate away. Not this time.

Mina cut across the ice, her skates slicing clean lines as she moved to block Y/N’s path. Her chest felt tight, her palms sweaty despite the cold air. She had rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times, but now that it was here, all the carefully crafted words she’d planned slipped away.

“Please,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Just listen to me.”

Y/N stopped, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she regarded Mina with an expression that was both wary and tired. “What is there to say, Mina?” she asked, her voice brittle. “You’ve already made it clear how you feel about me.”

“That’s not true,” Mina said quickly, her heart sinking at the resignation in Y/N’s tone.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and challenging. “Oh, it’s not? Because what I heard—”

“You didn’t hear everything,” Mina interrupted, her voice firmer now. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “You only heard part of what I said. And I need you to hear the rest.”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, her posture softening almost imperceptibly. But then she shook her head, the walls she’d built so carefully sliding back into place. “What could you possibly say to make this better?”

Y/N’s heart was pounding as she stared at Mina, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn’t want to hear excuses. She didn’t want to hear an apology that wouldn’t change anything.

She didn’t want to admit how much she wanted to believe Mina, how much she wanted to hear something, anything that would make the ache in her chest go away.

But the memory of Mina’s words still stung, the echo of impossible to work with playing on repeat in her mind.

Mina stepped closer, her dark eyes meeting Y/N’s with an intensity that made Y/N’s breath catch. “I said you’re fearless,” Mina began, her voice trembling but steady enough to carry her meaning. “I said your energy is rare. That it’s what makes you... exceptional.”

Y/N blinked, her resolve faltering for a brief moment. But she quickly shook her head, her arms tightening around herself like armor. “You’re just saying that now because you feel guilty.”

“No,” Mina replied, her voice rising with emotion. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.” She took another step forward, the proximity making Y/N’s chest tighten. “You’ve shown me things I never thought I’d see in myself. You’ve made me better, not just as a skater, but as a person.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the raw sincerity in Mina’s voice cutting through her defenses.

Mina’s heart raced as she saw the flicker of uncertainty in Y/N’s eyes. For a moment, she thought she might have gotten through to her.

But then Y/N stepped back, her expression closing off again. “It’s too late, Mina,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to say these things now.”

The words hit Mina like a punch to the chest. Her shoulders slumped, but she refused to give up. “It’s not too late,” she said softly, her voice shaking with desperation. “Not if you let me show you how much I care, how much I’ve always cared.”

But Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking as she muttered, “I can’t do this right now.” She skated away, her figure retreating into the dim light of the rink, leaving Mina standing alone.

Mina stayed rooted in place, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. The rejection stung, but more than that, it terrified her.

She had put her heart on the line, stripped herself bare in a way she had never done before. And Y/N had walked away.

But Mina wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

As she turned to watch Y/N’s distant figure, a wave of determination washed over her. She would fight for Y/N, even if it meant breaking down every wall between them brick by brick.

Because for the first time in her life, Mina wasn’t afraid to risk everything for someone she cared about.

Later, during practice the rink buzzed with activity, the sharp sound of blades cutting into the ice mingling with the low hum of conversation. Skaters clustered near the boards, some going over their routines, others chatting idly as the morning practice unfolded.

Mina stood off to the side, her gaze flickering toward Y/N, who was stretching alone in a corner of the rink. Her posture was stiff, her focus uncharacteristically muted as she went through her warm-up. Mina’s heart ached at the sight.

She wanted to approach Y/N, to try again, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the first move just yet. The memory of Y/N skating away from her earlier replayed in her mind, each moment sharpening her resolve but making her feel painfully aware of how fragile their connection had become.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the low, cutting voices of two nearby skaters.

“She’s not ready for this level,” one of them murmured, their voice laced with disdain. “I don’t know why they thought pairing her with Mina was a good idea.”

“Right?” the other replied, their tone dripping with false sympathy. “Mina could’ve had a real shot with someone polished. Y/N’s just... dragging her down.”

Mina’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. A rush of anger surged through her, so sudden and hot it caught her off guard.

She turned sharply, her skates slicing cleanly across the ice as she closed the distance between herself and the two skaters.

“Excuse me,” Mina said, her voice cutting through the low hum of the rink like a blade.

The two skaters froze mid-conversation, their heads snapping in her direction. Mina’s tone wasn’t raised, but there was a cold sharpness to it that made the pair visibly stiffen.

“M-Mina,” one of them stammered, their surprise evident as they shifted uncomfortably.

But Mina wasn’t about to let them off the hook. She skated forward with deliberate precision, the sound of her blades against the ice echoing like a warning. Her dark eyes locked onto theirs, unwavering.

“If you have something to say about my partner,” she began, her voice calm but deadly serious, “then say it to me.”

The taller of the two skaters, a wiry girl with sleek, platinum blonde hair, raised her hands defensively, her mouth opening as if to explain. But Mina didn’t stop.

“Because if you’re going to insult someone,” Mina continued, her voice tightening, “at least have the guts to say it where they can defend themselves.”

The shorter skater, a boy with an almost perpetually smug expression, muttered something under his breath. Mina turned her attention to him immediately, her gaze sharp enough to make him flinch.

“What was that?” she asked coolly, one eyebrow raising in challenge.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his bravado faltering.

“Nothing?” Mina repeated, her tone icy. She tilted her head slightly, her expression calm but unyielding. “Because it sounded an awful lot like you were questioning whether Y/N deserves to be here.”

The blonde skater shifted uncomfortably, shooting her partner a nervous glance. “We weren’t trying to—”

“You weren’t trying to what?” Mina interrupted, her voice rising slightly as her frustration spilled over. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she took a slow breath to steady herself before continuing.

“She’s dragging Mina down.” The words replayed in her mind, and the anger she’d tried to suppress bubbled to the surface. Mina had spent too many nights replaying her own mistakes, too many moments regretting her part in Y/N’s pain. Hearing others echo those same sentiments felt like salt in a wound.

She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, her skates slicing clean lines into the ice as she approached the pair. They both recoiled slightly under her piercing gaze.

“Y/N is one of the most talented skaters I’ve ever met,” Mina said, her voice firm and steady now, the anger fueling her conviction. “She’s fearless, creative, and brings a kind of energy to the ice that you couldn’t even hope to match.”

The taller skater opened her mouth to speak, but Mina raised a hand, silencing her.

“Do you know what it’s like to trust someone enough to put your success, your entire career, in their hands?” Mina asked, her voice softening but carrying an unmistakable edge. “I do. And I trust Y/N with that every single day.”

The shorter skater had the good sense to look ashamed, his gaze dropping to the ice.

Mina exhaled sharply, her frustration ebbing slightly as she straightened her posture. “So, if you have something to say about Y/N,” she continued, her tone firm but quieter now, “maybe ask yourself if you could even begin to match her courage. Because I doubt it.”

The pair muttered apologies under their breath, skating away quickly before Mina could say anything further.

As the two skaters disappeared across the rink, Mina stood still for a moment, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself. The adrenaline coursing through her veins left her hands trembling slightly, but her resolve was unshaken.

Mina exhaled sharply, the adrenaline from the confrontation fading as she turned back toward the rink. She caught sight of Y/N, who had stopped mid-stretch, her hands resting on her knees as she stared at Mina.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet.

Y/N’s expression was a mixture of shock and something else, something softer, more vulnerable. Mina felt her chest tighten as she held Y/N’s gaze, silently willing her to understand.

Mina skated toward her slowly, her movements deliberate as the distance between them closed. Her heart pounded, but she kept her voice steady as she said, “You are exceptional.”

Y/N blinked, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came.

Mina stepped closer, her gaze never leaving Y/N’s. “And I won’t let anyone, including myself, make you feel otherwise again.”

The vulnerability in her voice hung in the air, and for a long moment, Y/N just looked at her, her guarded expression softening ever so slightly.

“Why would you do that?” Y/N finally asked, her voice quiet but unsteady.

“Because it’s the truth,” Mina replied without hesitation. She hesitated briefly, her next words catching in her throat. “And because I care about you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her defenses faltering as the words sank in.

For the first time in days, Mina saw the faintest flicker of trust return to Y/N’s eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Mina’s heart lift, hope rising cautiously in her chest.

The tension lingered in the air even after practice ended, the echoes of skates on ice fading into silence. Y/N sat on the bench near the lockers, her head bowed as she untied her skates. She couldn’t stop thinking about what she had seen and heard, Mina standing up for her, speaking with such unwavering conviction.

The memory of Mina’s voice replayed in her mind: “She’s fearless, creative, and brings a kind of energy to the ice that you couldn’t even hope to match.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Mina hadn’t just defended her, she had believed in her, maybe more than Y/N believed in herself.

For so long, Y/N had felt like an outsider in Mina’s world, trying to prove she belonged. And now Mina’s words had turned everything she thought she knew upside down.

Y/N exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over her face as her emotions swirled.

Mina stood just outside the doorway, her back resting against the wall. She hadn’t left the rink yet, waiting for the moment she could approach Y/N without an audience. She knew what she needed to say, but the knot of nerves in her stomach didn’t make it any easier.

Gathering her courage, Mina stepped inside. The faint sound of her footsteps made Y/N glance up, their eyes meeting across the room.

Mina hesitated for a fraction of a second, then walked closer, her movements deliberate. She stopped a few feet away, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“Y/N,” she began softly, her voice steady but tinged with vulnerability, “can we talk?”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. Then she gave a small nod, shifting slightly to face Mina.

Mina exhaled deeply, trying to steady the racing of her heart. Standing in front of Y/N now, with her guarded expression and tense shoulders, made the weight of her mistakes feel all the more tangible.

“When I said those things to Momo,” Mina began softly, her voice trembling at the edges, “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t choose my words carefully, and I hate that you had to hear them.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her gaze dropping to the floor, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I was frustrated,” Mina continued, her hands clasping tightly in front of her as if she could hold herself together. “Not with you, but with how hard it was for me to adjust to... to us. You’re so different from me, your style, your approach, your energy. It threw me off, and instead of admitting that I was struggling, I took it out. I said things out of frustration, things I didn’t mean.”

She hesitated, her throat tightening as she replayed the moment in her mind. “But what you heard, it wasn’t the full story. I didn’t just say you were undisciplined or unpredictable. I also said you were fearless. That you have this energy that’s so rare, it’s impossible not to admire.”

Y/N blinked, her eyes flicking up to meet Mina’s for a fleeting second before darting away again.

Mina stepped closer, her skates gliding softly over the floor. “You’ve changed the way I see skating, Y/N. You’ve made me realize that it’s not just about precision or control. It’s about... feeling. Expression. About trusting someone enough to let them guide you, even when it feels like stepping into chaos.”

Her voice softened, cracking slightly with emotion. “And you made me trust you in a way I didn’t think I could trust anyone.”

Mina paused, her breath trembling as she prepared for the next part. This was the hardest thing to say, but she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Trying to be the person everyone expects me to be. But with you... I didn’t have to be perfect. You didn’t ask that of me. And for the first time, I felt like I could let go of all of that and just... skate.”

Her eyes met Y/N’s again, and this time she didn’t look away. “You taught me that. You showed me something I didn’t even know I needed. And I hate that my own fear, my inability to say these things before, made you think you weren’t enough. Because you are, Y/N. You’re more than enough.”

Y/N’s breath hitched audibly, her chest rising and falling as she processed Mina’s words.

Mina swallowed hard, her hands clenching briefly before she forced them to relax. “I can’t take back what I said, or how it hurt you. But I can tell you this: I meant it when I said you’re exceptional. And I’m so sorry that I made you doubt that, even for a second.”

Y/N was still silent, her expression unreadable. The pause stretched, long enough for doubt to creep into Mina’s mind.

Did I say enough? Does she even believe me?

Mina’s throat felt tight, her chest aching with the weight of everything she still hadn’t said. But she knew this wasn’t just about the apology, it was about being honest in a way she never had been before.

“And it’s not just about the skating,” Mina added, her voice soft but steady. “I care about you. I’ve cared about you for a long time, even when I didn’t know how to show it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of emotion breaking through her guarded expression.

Mina’s pulse raced, her heart pounding as she took another step closer. “You’ve made me better, Y/N. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened as Mina’s words washed over her. She had been bracing herself for excuses, for a rehearsed apology that would feel hollow, but this.. This was something else entirely.

Mina’s voice trembled with emotion, her carefully composed exterior cracking in a way Y/N had never seen before. The sincerity in her words felt like a direct hit to Y/N’s defenses, each sentence chipping away at the walls she’d built to protect herself.

Y/N shifted in her seat, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt as she tried to process what Mina was saying. The words “fearless,” “exceptional,” “I care about you” echoed in her mind, looping endlessly.

She bit her lip, willing herself to keep her composure. But the ache in her chest was impossible to ignore—the ache of wanting to believe Mina but being too afraid to let herself.

“I... I don’t know what to say,” Y/N finally admitted, her voice unsteady. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers curling tightly around the fabric in her lap. “You really hurt me, Mina. When I heard you say those things, it felt like everything I’d been afraid of was true.”

Mina’s breath hitched, but she didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve spent so much time feeling like I didn’t belong here,” Y/N continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like I wasn’t good enough, like I didn’t fit into this world with all these polished skaters who’ve had everything handed to them. And you… You were everything I thought I could never be. Perfect. Untouchable.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her throat tightening. “When I heard you say I was impossible to work with, it just... broke something in me. Because if you, of all people, thought I didn’t belong, then maybe I didn’t.”

Mina’s face twisted with regret, her lips parting to respond, but Y/N raised a hand to stop her.

“But,” Y/N said, her voice softening, “when I saw you defend me today, when I heard the things you said... it made me realize something.” She paused, her gaze lifting to meet Mina’s. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I realized that I’ve been wrong about you too,” she said. “I thought you saw me as just a wildcard, a problem to solve. But maybe... maybe you see me for who I really am.”

Her voice wavered as she continued. “You said I made you better, but the truth is, you’ve done the same for me. You’ve pushed me in ways I didn’t think I could handle, made me want to prove to myself that I deserve to be here, not just because of my talent, but because I can skate with someone like you.”

She blinked rapidly, brushing a hand over her face to wipe away the tears threatening to fall. “And it’s not just about skating,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared of letting you in because I didn’t want to get hurt. But the truth is, I care about you too. More than I’ve let myself admit.”

Mina’s breath caught, her eyes widening as Y/N’s words sank in.

For a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hung heavy between them. Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, the sound a mixture of relief and disbelief. “You really know how to throw me off, Myoui.”

Mina’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, her expression softening as a glimmer of hope returned to her eyes.

Mina stepped closer, her heart pounding as she extended her hand. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed her vulnerability. “Partners?” she asked, the word heavy with meaning.

Y/N stared at the outstretched hand, her chest tightening as emotions warred within her. The guarded part of her whispered to hold back, to protect herself. But the look in Mina’s eyes, the mix of hope, regret, and determination, made it impossible to stay distant.

She let out a slow breath, then reached out and slid her hand into Mina’s. Their fingers brushed lightly before settling into a firm grip.

“Partners,” Y/N said firmly, her voice carrying a quiet strength.

The moment stretched between them, the tension finally giving way to something softer, something unspoken but deeply understood.

Mina’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, and Y/N felt warmth spread through her chest, melting away the lingering doubt.

For the first time in weeks, the space between them didn’t feel like a chasm. It felt like the beginning of something new.

The roar of the crowd filled the arena, a cacophony of cheers and applause that reverberated through the air. The bright lights illuminated the pristine ice, casting a radiant glow that made it shimmer like glass.

Y/N stood at the edge of the rink, her skates gliding gently over the ice as she took a deep breath. Beside her, Mina adjusted her gloves, her movements steady and precise. When their eyes met, a calm but electric understanding passed between them.

This was their moment.

“Ready?” Mina asked softly, her voice carrying just enough to reach Y/N over the noise of the crowd.

Y/N gave her a small, confident smile. “With you? Always.”

Mina’s lips quirked into a faint smile of her own, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. They didn’t need to say more, every word, every feeling, had already been exchanged in the quiet hours of practice, in the moments where they had learned to trust each other again.

Together, they skated toward the center of the rink, the noise of the crowd fading into a dull hum. All that mattered now was the routine, the music, and the bond that tethered them together.

The first haunting notes of their music drifted through the arena, silencing the hum of the crowd. Y/N and Mina stood motionless at the center of the rink, their backs barely touching as they faced opposite directions. It was a deliberate choice, symbolizing the distance they had overcome.

Y/N’s hands clenched at her sides for just a moment before she let the tension dissolve, the rhythm of the music grounding her. Beside her, Mina took a slow, deep breath, her sharp gaze fixed ahead.

The routine began with a subtle movement, their steps soft yet purposeful as they moved in parallel lines, mirroring each other without ever meeting. Blades whispered against the ice, each stroke precise, their bodies angled with an understated elegance that belied the emotional storm they were building toward.

As the music swelled, their movements grew bolder. Mina spun gracefully, her arms sweeping through the air like ribbons as Y/N circled her, their paths weaving a delicate interplay of light and shadow. The energy between them crackled, a dance of opposites finding their rhythm.

Y/N launched into the first jump of the routine, her movements powerful and commanding. She twisted in midair with a speed and confidence that drew gasps from the crowd, landing with a force that felt almost defiant.

Mina followed with a spin that radiated pure elegance, her body extended in a perfect line. She moved with the kind of control that came from years of discipline, her every turn balanced and deliberate.

The audience was captivated. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just two skaters moving as one, their differences harmonizing like the contrasting notes of the music.

Their first connection came in a sweeping glide, their hands brushing briefly as they passed each other. It was fleeting but electric, a spark of what was to come.

The ice glistened like glass as Y/N and Mina approached the lift. The music shifted, rising into a crescendo that carried with it the weight of everything they had built, the trust, the struggles, the bond that had been tested and reforged.

Y/N skated a short arc, her legs bending slightly as she braced for the moment. Mina glided toward her with a confidence that seemed almost ethereal, her arms raised in preparation. Their eyes met for the briefest second, a silent exchange of trust and reassurance.

Y/N’s hands found Mina’s waist with practiced ease, her grip steady but gentle. Mina felt the strength behind it, the unwavering foundation that had grown between them. She pushed off the ice with perfect timing, her body lifting effortlessly as Y/N guided her upward.

Mina’s arms extended gracefully, her fingertips reaching toward the lights above. Her body stretched into a perfect line, every movement deliberate yet free, a display of strength and elegance in perfect harmony.

The audience collectively held their breath as Y/N carried her through the air, their movements fluid and synchronized. Y/N’s legs flexed powerfully, her core stabilizing the lift with a precision that made it look effortless.

For a moment, it was as if Mina was suspended in time, her figure weightless against the backdrop of the arena. The spotlights reflected off the frost kicked up by their skates, creating a shimmering halo around them.

Mina began her descent, her movements controlled and deliberate as Y/N guided her safely back to the ice. Blades touched down simultaneously, the sound of the landing crisp and assured.

The audience erupted into applause, but neither Y/N nor Mina acknowledged it. For that moment, there was only the two of them, their breaths syncing as they shared a fleeting glance.

Mina’s lips curved into the faintest smile, a rare expression that was meant only for Y/N.

Y/N responded with a wink, her grin bright and infectious. “Nailed it,” she whispered, just loud enough for Mina to hear.

Mina shook her head slightly, a quiet laugh escaping her as they moved seamlessly into the next sequence. But deep down, she couldn’t deny it. They had nailed it.

The rhythm of the music quickened, its intensity building like a rising tide. Y/N and Mina mirrored the shift in energy, their movements growing faster, sharper, and more intricate. Every glide, every spin felt charged with emotion, their bond radiating through every motion.

Y/N launched into a double axel, her body twisting effortlessly through the air before landing with a powerful flourish. Her blade cut into the ice with confidence, leaving a clean, deliberate mark that seemed to resonate across the rink.

Mina followed with a sequence of flawless footwork, her feet moving so quickly and precisely that it was mesmerizing to watch. Her movements were crisp yet fluid, her arms extending like delicate brushstrokes across a canvas. The audience erupted into cheers, but Mina didn’t break focus. Not yet.

They came together for a series of synchronized spins, their bodies flowing in perfect unison. Y/N added a daring flourish, extending one arm high and breaking formation for a split second before returning to their shared axis. Mina responded instantly, adapting with a smooth grace that turned Y/N’s improvisation into a seamless part of the choreography.

The tension between the sharp, daring edge of Y/N’s style and Mina’s poised, polished movements created a breathtaking contrast. Their differences, once a source of frustration and conflict, now blended into a performance that was raw and magnetic, impossible to look away from.

The audience was on the edge of their seats as the music swelled toward its climax. The skaters broke apart, each moving to opposite ends of the rink as the choreography called for their final, individual displays of skill.

Y/N pushed herself harder than ever, landing a triple toe loop with a flourish that sent frost spraying into the air. Her powerful energy was contagious, drawing audible gasps and cheers from the crowd.

At the opposite end of the rink, Mina executed a series of complex spins, her form so precise it seemed almost unreal. Her movements were as delicate as lace, her control so complete it felt as though she were floating above the ice rather than carving through it.

The music reached its peak, and the two skaters surged toward each other across the ice. They met at the center in a perfect arc, their hands locking as they launched into a final act.

The last haunting notes of the music echoed through the arena, and Y/N caught Mina’s hand, guiding her into the final pose with practiced precision. Mina’s body dipped low, her skates gliding effortlessly as she leaned backward, her arms extended in a dramatic flourish. Y/N’s grip on her was firm and steady, a grounding force that kept Mina balanced despite the precarious position.

The spotlight followed them, casting long shadows across the ice as they held the pose. Mina’s back was arched, her face tilted upward toward the lights, her expression open and vulnerable. Y/N crouched slightly to support her, her free arm extended as though offering Mina to the crowd.

It was a moment of pure synchronicity, grace and strength perfectly combined. The ice beneath them seemed to shimmer, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

The music faded into silence, leaving only the sound of their synchronized breathing and the faint hum of the arena. For a single heartbeat, there was nothing but stillness.

Mina slowly straightened, Y/N steadying her as they rose together. Their hands remained intertwined, neither willing to let go.

The applause was thunderous, waves of cheers echoing across the arena, but it was the silence among the judges that held the moment’s weight. Seated in their elevated booth, the panel of judges exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of awe and intrigue as they began jotting down notes on their scorecards.

“That,” The head judge said, pausing for effect, “was a performance for the books.”

One of the other judges nodded, his pen still poised mid-air as if reluctant to stop writing. “The technical execution was nearly flawless. Their lifts were clean, their transitions seamless.”

“But it wasn’t just technical,” another judge added, her tone thoughtful. “It was emotional. You could feel the connection between them. The narrative they told, it was like watching a story unfold on the ice.”

The head judge gestured toward her notes. “That final lift? Bold. A risky choice, but perfectly executed. And the way they incorporated Y/N’s improvisational flair into Mina’s precision, it felt fresh. Innovative.”

“They’ve taken an unconventional pairing and turned it into something unforgettable,” said another judge, a smile tugging at his lips. “They weren’t just skating, they were creating art.”

The head judge leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the pair still holding their final pose at the center of the rink. “Scores won’t be enough to capture what they just gave us. But I think we can all agree, they’ve set a new standard for doubles skating.”

The audience continued to cheer as the scores began flashing across the screen above the rink. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the numbers appeared.

“9.9.” “9.8.” “9.9.”

A near-perfect score.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N and Mina Myoui have just earned the highest score of the competition so far!”

Mina turned to face Y/N, her lips curving into a soft, genuine smile.

“You’re incredible,” Mina whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the audience.

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling with both triumph and emotion. “Right back at you, Myoui.”

They skated toward the edge of the rink, their hands still clasped, their movements slow and deliberate as they soaked in the applause. Y/N gave Mina’s hand a small squeeze, and Mina responded with a light, reassuring press of her fingers.

When they reached the edge, Y/N raised their joined hands high, her free arm waving toward the crowd in a playful flourish. Mina followed suit, her smile widening.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in Y/N’s ears as she and Mina left the ice, their skates slicing one last set of clean lines into the rink before stepping off. The applause felt surreal, a living pulse that seemed to follow them even as they moved into the quieter space of the skaters’ corridor.

Y/N exhaled sharply, her chest heaving as the adrenaline began to fade. She tugged at her gloves absentmindedly, glancing sideways at Mina. Beside her, Mina’s usually composed features were softened, her lips curved into a rare and genuine smile.

“They loved us,” Y/N said breathlessly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Mina turned to her, her smile widening. “They didn’t just love us,” she replied softly. “We earned that.”

Y/N’s grin spread across her face, bright and infectious. “Damn right we did.”

They reached the locker room, the muffled sound of the crowd still audible beyond the walls. Y/N dropped onto a bench, running a hand through her hair. “That score...” she murmured, shaking her head. “I never thought—”

“Believe it,” Mina interrupted, sitting down beside her. She rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. “You deserved every point.”

Y/N looked at her, the warmth of Mina’s words sinking in. For once, there was no teasing comeback, no playful retort, just a quiet, unspoken gratitude.

The crisp night air wrapped around them as they stepped out of the arena, their breath forming small clouds in the cold. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, but neither Y/N nor Mina seemed to notice. They walked in silence, their medals clinking faintly with each step, the weight of their shared victory settling into something more profound.

Y/N kept her eyes forward, her fingers gripping the strap of her skate bag tightly. Her mind raced with everything she wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words. Mina, walking just slightly ahead, slowed her steps until they were side by side.

The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried an unspoken tension that neither could ignore. Finally, Y/N broke the silence.

“You know,” she began, her voice softer than usual, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like that before.”

Mina turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”

“Out there,” Y/N said, gesturing vaguely toward the arena behind them. “The way we skated. It wasn’t just... us performing. It felt like—” She hesitated, struggling to find the words. “Like it mattered. Like it was bigger than us.”

Mina stopped walking, her gaze fixed on Y/N. “It did matter,” she said quietly. “To me, it mattered more than anything.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in Mina’s voice.

Mina hesitated, her hands curling into fists before relaxing at her sides. She took a steadying breath and stepped closer. “I used to think skating was just about control,” she began, her voice soft but resolute. “About being perfect. About winning. But tonight…” Her dark eyes met Y/N’s, shimmering with emotion. “Tonight, it was about something much bigger.”

Y/N’s heart pounded, her chest tightening as she waited for Mina to continue.

“It was about you. About us,” Mina said, her voice trembling slightly. “About letting myself feel things I never thought I could. You’ve shown me a different way to see everything, not just skating, but myself.”

Mina paused, her breath hitching, and her expression softened. “Y/N,” she said quietly, her voice raw with vulnerability, “I’m in love with you.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her eyes wide as the words hung between them, heavy and undeniable.

Mina pressed on, her voice trembling but steadying with each word. “You’ve changed everything for me. You’ve made me believe in something more than just being perfect. You’ve made me believe in us. And it terrifies me, because I never thought I could feel this way about anyone.”

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes as she stepped closer, her heart racing. “Mina…” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

Mina’s lips quirked into a hesitant smile. “I know I don’t always get it right. But I want you to know this, you’ve made me want to be better. Not perfect. Just better.”

Y/N felt a wave of emotion swell in her chest as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Mina’s. “Mina,” she said, her voice trembling, “you don’t have to be perfect. You never did. Not with me.”

A tear slipped down Mina’s cheek as she let out a soft, relieved laugh. Y/N stepped closer, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And for the record,” Y/N added with a small, shaky smile, “I’m in love with you too.”

Mina’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with wonder. Slowly, she brought her forehead to rest against Y/N’s, the world around them fading into the background.

“So,” Y/N said softly, her voice turning playful despite the emotion thick in the air, “do I finally get to kiss the ice queen, or is that against the rules?”

Mina let out a startled laugh, a blush rising in her cheeks. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips meeting Y/N’s in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened with all the unspoken feelings they could no longer deny.

When they pulled apart, Y/N grinned, her breath mingling with Mina’s. “Best day ever,” she teased.

Mina chuckled, her fingers intertwining with Y/N’s. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” Y/N said, her voice brimming with warmth.

Mina smiled, her dark eyes sparkling as she whispered, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They continued walking, their hands still intertwined, a silent promise shared between them as the quiet city streets stretched before them. The distant sound of traffic hummed faintly in the background, but for Y/N and Mina, the world felt smaller, just the two of them, stepping into something new.

As they reached a quiet park, Y/N stopped, turning to Mina with a look of determination in her eyes. “You know,” she said, “we’re not just partners on the ice anymore. We’re partners in everything. Right?”

Mina’s expression softened, her smile small but genuine. “Right.”

Y/N grinned, her usual playful spark returning. “Good, because I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me, Myoui. Glitter, chaos, and all.”

Mina laughed softly, her voice light and free in a way Y/N hadn’t heard before. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep you grounded,” she replied, her tone teasing but affectionate.

They stood there for a moment, the weight of everything they had been through lifting as the future stretched ahead of them.

“I think,” Mina said after a pause, her voice thoughtful, “we’ve found something better than perfect.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Yeah?”

Mina nodded, her gaze steady. “Yeah.”

With that, they began walking again, their steps in perfect sync. They had conquered the ice, but more importantly, they had found each other, partners in skating, in life, and in every unpredictable, breathtaking moment yet to come.

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