#else I am supposed to do ??? at the very least just listen to me please it is 02:14:46 how synchronous ! I can’t stop having what I think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukunasweetheart · 1 year ago

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Can I please request Sukuna and reader picking up their child from preschool? It can be anything, fluff or angst, its up to you!

Love your work and keep it up <33

thank you for requesting and i'm so very sorry that this took a billion years to complete... i just now finally thought of an intriguing way to do this request <3

some warnings: fem!reader, major character death, ooc sukuna, major angst, modern AU, sukuna and reader have a daughter

good things never really last.

well, at least that's what sukuna believed before he came across you. you and your delicate expressions and equally as delicate affection and warmth, which seemed to wrap around him constantly, even when he tried to avoid you at the beginning of all this, all because of his own uncertainty and his rather skeptical outlooks on the concept of love.

he's always been self-centered-- so the idea of his life becoming centered around anyone else but himself, frankly, scared him a little bit.

but, putting that aside...

a high pitched, overjoyed squeal rings out from inside the daycare centre, and a little girl comes running into your open arms, embracing you with the overflowing energy that little children always tend to have. you lift her up with ease, smiling as she giggles from the gesture.

"mommy!" she says, nuzzling her soft, tiny face against yours without much care for being gentle. someone else trails in from behind, feeling a little left out from this reunion.

"aren't you forgetting someone here, princess?"

sukuna also makes his entrance into the centre, walking towards the both of you. your tiny daughter gasps, and flails her arms out towards the big man.

"daddy!! you're here too?!"

"that i am, sweetheart. happy to see me?" he takes her away from you, holding her as gently as possible with his large hands.

"uh huh," she nods with enthusiasm.

"of course you do. my little girl."

the sukuna of the past would've never fathomed having a future like this, where he'd be handling a child of all things with such care. it's really different when they're your own flesh and blood. he's adored her like no one else. ah- well- no one else but you, that is.

he carries her to the car, while you take your daughter's bag from the daycare teacher, who waves you off with a couple of words of goodbye.

the ride home is nothing short of cosy and cheerful, with the happy singing of your little girl coming from the backseats, and the laughs from you as you listen to the way she mispronounces a lot of the words in the song. sukuna drives wordlessly, with a gentle smile on his face.

the skies happened to be so clear that day, with not a speck of a cloud being sighted within it.

some time after arriving home, you began to languidly start your work in the kitchen, preparing dinner that also turned out even better tasting than usual, that particular night. you always felt the happiest, when sukuna praised your cooking, especially as someone who you knew had very high standards when it came to food.

and miraculously, once dinner was all finished and your daughter was all dressed up ready for bedtime, she managed to fall asleep a lot faster than most evenings, leaving you and sukuna with quite a bit of...freetime.

you lay on the mattress under his sultry gaze, as he undresses you carefully as though he were unwrapping a present, trailing soft kisses down the side of your neck. you're as beautiful as the day he first met you. this was the most perfect end to the most perfect day in his life.

too perfect.

...

he should have been suspicious, with the way things were getting so blissful in his life-- his life that had previously been so rocky and turbulent.

was this supposed to be punishment for his sins? for all his arrogance and selfishness? the heavens decided to grace him with the feeling of genuine love and its reciprocation, only to then tear it away from his hands once he'd started to take it for granted.

...it was an unforeseen accident. could've happened to anybody. why did it have to be you?

good things never last.

sukuna drops the home phone immediately upon hearing the news, and hurriedly packs a small bag for his daughter. he drops her off to her friend's house, who is a long term neighbour of theirs. then makes a beeline towards the hospital, speeding past every red light that dared to try and stop him.

yet, that was all for naught, as by the time he'd arrived to your bed at the hospital, you had already taken your last breath, and said your final words. which he couldn't hear for himself.

'please tell them that i love them'. that was apparently all you tried to say. sukuna is made to sign some documents on your passing, and shortly after, they give him some time to spend with your lifeless body. he is then sent home.

he arrives to see some mail that had been slipped in through the front door. notifications of fines, for crossing red lights multiple times and going against speed limits. nothing but a reminder of his failure.

he tears the letters into pieces, and sits himself down on a chair, where he hangs his head in silence, without bothering to turn the lights on in the house.

and all of a sudden, he becomes so very busy, in the following weeks.

caring for his daughter alone. preparing for your funeral. accepting your death.

grief is such a strange, and horrible experience. all this love he has for you. where is it supposed to go now?

the night after your funeral, he's sitting alone at the dining table once again. he can't stand the bedroom. not when it's become only his now, and no longer yours as well. sukuna hasn't slept well in a while.

small footsteps resound against the floorboards, and he looks up to see his daughter standing meekly a distance away from him.

"what's wrong? had a bad dream?" he asks, with the most gentle voice he can muster in his current condition.

"...no. i just had a dream about mommy," she confesses tearfully.

"why can't she just come back? i miss her."

too young to understand the concept of death.

"oh, sweetheart... i miss her too."

she begins to cry, and he gets up to comfort her, as if the one needing the most comfort right now isn't himself.

they huddle and sleep together that night, in attempts to replicate your warmth. the warmth of a mother. and the warmth of a wife.

since then, a part of sukuna seemed to change back into his older self, where he cared less for others and remained disinterested in most things that life offered him. he decided not to care about anything or anyone, other than himself and of course, his darling daughter. your gift to him. the only thing keeping him grounded.

he never finds a new lover, nor does he harbour any desires to seek for one, despite the encouragement from others.

you keep appearing in his dreams every now and then. every night before bed, he hopes to see you again, and is disappointed in the mornings where he wakes up with the realisation that it didn't happen.

years and years pass, and while he ages like fine wine, so does his little girl, who becomes not so little anymore. they still share the best bond that a father and daughter could ever have.

but eventually, she finds her own path in life and leaves the house to pursue her own dreams, even getting married to start her own family.

though they still regularly contact each other, sukuna's abode becomes sorrowfully quiet without her presence around. though he's proud as a father, this solitude only deepens his longing for you, like the sensation of slowly sinking towards the bottom of the ocean floor.

good things never last.

though, it's not until a few more years later, that he passes away rather peacefully of old age.

his soul feels light and airy. he feels calm, despite being aware that he's passed on into the afterlife. the bodily discomforts of aging is non-existent in this place.

he's walking towards the bright light, where he assumes he's supposed to go, and realises that there's a figure standing towards the end of it. sukuna already knows who it is, and his walking begins to speed up.

and with each step, his time rewinds.

"look at you. still all pretty and pristine, unlike me with my abhorrent wrinkles," sukuna comments with a chuckle in his voice.

"what are you talking about? you're still as handsome as ever."

as you grab his hand, your touch shifts his appearance... and sukuna reverts back to the time when he glimmered the most vibrantly - the days before you died, the days of his brilliant twenties. he stares at his own hand, where the creases in his skin have disappeared completely.

rejoicing, he pulls you in for a tight embrace, as he can now feel your body against his.

"you did so well. our little girl grew up so beautifully," you tell him with your sweet voice, hands placed against his broad back.

"of course. she's none other than our daughter, after all," he replies with confidence, as he presses his face against the locks of your hair, enjoying your familiar scent.

your bright smile turns to something more sorrowful, and you step back a bit to come face-to-face with him.

"and... you never found someone else. you never remarried."

"because I never intended to look for another. You were the first and last," sukuna tells you matter-of-factly.

"wasn't it lonely?"

"...terribly. but you're here now, so it was worth enduring after all."

you laugh, and it sounds exactly the same as it did all those years before. the memories he had of you, the ones that he held onto so tightly as to not forget, until his very last breath.

"that makes me selfishly happy. i shouldn't be, for your sake, but I am."

"then why don't you give me a kiss? for all my hard effort."

he leans in, like how he'd always done whenever you appeared in his dreams at night.

except this time, your lips actually reach his, instead of disappearing away, like a fleeting memory.

good things may never last for long, but misfortune certainly doesn't last forever, either.

-fin-

Masterlist

#i was hurting while writing this and i want everyone else to hurt too #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you

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blackypanther9 · 8 months ago

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Only once, never again – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

“Papa, please ?”, you asked again.

“No, Cher. You are too young.”, Alastor denied you again.

“Papa, I am sixteen ! I should at least try !”, you tried to convince him.

“You are too young to try now, Cher. What if something happens to you ? I would never forgive myself.”

“Pa, you are my Father and the all feared Bayou Killer. As soon as I am hurt, you kill the one responsible. I am not a damsel in distress either ! You taught me how to defend myself and I am not that easily traumatized. I live with and was raised by you ! Alastor Hazbin, most famous Radio Host, the man that never stops smiling, the man that accomplished the impossible, the man who proudly adopted and raised a child with well manners and the very shadow in the night that kills scum that deserve it ! I’m a tough cookie, I won’t crumble THAT fast !”, you persisted.

He stared at you, uncertainty in his eyes and his smile so very strained, close to a concerned frown. You both stayed seated in the living room, listening to the new record that Alastor bought.

What were you arguing about ? You wanted to try out dating someone and Alastor, your Father, absolutely HATED the very idea.

“Just once, Pa. Pretty please. Let me try out dating someone at least this once. I wish to know what it feels like.”, you pleaded with him again.

Your Father took a deep breath and stood up.

“I fear I have to retire to bed now, mon ange (My Angel). Sleep well, Dear.”, he said and gave you a kiss on the forehead, then left.

You had a crestfallen look on your face. Alastor wasn’t blind, he saw it too. He needed time to think about this. Don’t get him wrong, the Radio Host KNEW this would happen one day or another, but he was never ready for the day it would happen. He was very concerned for your safety. Men...were swines. You...were an absolute angel. It just didn’t fit, in his opinion. His sweet loving daughter and an abusive swine at your side, leashing you and using you for whatever he wanted...no...Alastor hated that bare thought.

He could feel himself getting sick at the pure imagination, that you would get a man and he would instantly collar and leash you. Like his Father did with his Mother.

He laid there, in bed, wide awake, for three hours that night. As you retired for the night he could hear you sobbing and whimpering and his heart felt oh so shattered, just hearing you crying. He knew he was the cause of your sadness. He just wanted to protect you, but he understood you as well.

You were a Teenager and you wanted to feel a different kind of love. You wanted to explore a new area and usually Alastor was supportive of your adventurous side. But...this was about men and men could NEVER be trusted. His Father and the men he killed, were the perfect example ! They hurt and abused their wives and sometimes even their own children, they raped women and left them to die or with a Bastard child, they yell at their wives, degrade them whenever they saw fit, emotionally scarred them and traumatized their own Family !

He didn’t want the same thing happening to you. You were his beloved daughter and he could never forgive himself, if something happened to you. This was a difficult decision for him.

You wanted to at least try and court someone for once, while he was very much against the thought alone. What course of action should he take ? What would be the safest, best idea ? Continue to deny you and break your heart, or let you try and possibly end up hurt and...most possibly cold hearted ? Alastor heard of it. Some men were so brutal, that the woman they dated ended up with a cold heart and never courted again.

What was he supposed to do ? Give in, or continue to hurt your feelings ?

-Time skip-

You woke up and were not in the mood to get out of bed. You were sad and hurt that your Father refused to let you try and find out what else love would feel like. You were just curious. Only one try, but even to that he said no and then he just left you and retired for the night.

That one hurt the most.

The door opened and the smell of cooked breakfast entered your room.

“Y/n, Sweetheart~! I made you your beloved pancakes~!”, your Father sang out with a big smile.

You didn’t react and didn’t move, which made your Father’s smile dim slightly. He ripped open the curtains and opened your window for fresh air. The birds were chirping and the breeze was a pleasant welcome in your room, you loved the wind and air outside, it made you feel free. Alastor knew that.

Then your Father sat down next to your curled up form and ran his fingers through your hair, gently. He sighed. He knew you were awake, but in a foul mood from yesterday evening still.

“Listen Cher...I thought long and hard about your idea from yesterday, while I was in bed. I understand why you want this so bad, but please understand me too, Darling. I can’t always be there for you. I just want to keep you safe for as long as possible.”, he carefully started.

You continued to listen, already knowing this, but not saying anything.

“If you have someone, you want to court and explore a new territory with...then you have my permission for now...”

Your head snapped up and you stared at him in shock, he held his finger up, telling you to be silent, he wasn’t finished.

“BUT ! If that filthy speck of dirt dares to lay a hand on you, I will not hesitate to kill him and you will NEVER court anyone again ! Understood ?”

You nodded quickly, happy tears in your eyes. You sat up and quickly wrapped your arms around your Father, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much, Papa ! You have no idea what this means to me !”, you sobbed out happily.

He hugged you back tightly, not saying a word. But...he felt bile rise up in his throat.

‘I can’t believe I said yes to this...’

-Later that day-

You went out and told your Father that you will meet up with the man that you decided to court and see if there will be anything happening. Alastor let you go with a lot of hesitation. Heck, he even made you go through all the methods how to hurt a man again, just to see if you remember everything !

You told him where you will be, when you will be back and then left.

But the Radio Host couldn’t help worrying. He dressed up in formal clothes, but they wouldn’t be too much of a loss to get rid of, shall he get messy. Grabbed his hunting knife, hid it in his coat and then he was off, shadow trailing you.

The man he saw you meet up with, didn’t seem very suiting for you. He always stayed far enough away, but was still close enough to see you both. You were taking a walk in the park first, talking and joking with each other, then you went out to eat at a restaurant, which the boy paid for and then you started to laugh and talk some more.

Alastor wasn’t sure how to feel. You seemed happy... But that boy...didn’t seem very safe. Maybe..Alastor was just overreacting...but he didn’t like him.

As it was time to go home for you, the both of you parted ways. You left a kiss on his cheek and then you walked away from one another. He offered to bring you home, but for the sake of your Father’s safety and your new friend’s, you said no.

As you returned home, you saw your Father pacing the living room. As soon as you closed the front door, he snapped his head to you and looked at you, face full with worry.

“How...did it go, mon petit (My little one) ?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“It went good, I guess ? But it...we didn’t feel a spark, Pa. Like what all these romance books say when you find the right one you want to be with ? That didn’t happen.”

He looked relieved, yet confused.

“And what does that mean now, for the two of you ?”

You smiled at your Father happily.

“We decided that we will stay friends and agreed to meet next week again ! Oh, Papa, you would love this boy ! He has no issue with mixed and dark skinned people either ! He finds them rather interesting ! He is so kind too ! You and him would become great friends !”

“Would we now ?”

“Yes, yes, you would ! Kenny is such a kind soul !”

Alastor made a humming sound.

“I suppose we can meet him next time here, then. If you want.”

You nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I would LOVE to ! He offered to get me home too, but I didn’t want to cause you a panic attack with him coming here already, so I declined. I hope you aren’t too mad about that.”

“Not at all, Cher !”

With that you talked with him about everything you and your new friend did and talked about. The next time Alastor met Kenny and he was pleasantly surprised that you were right. He and Kenny became quite good pals.

A/N: I hope this wasn’t trash. TvT I thought about this scene a lot, yet it seemed better in my head than on paper... Q-Q

Masterlist HERE !

#fanfiction #fem!reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #Human!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Human!Reader #Alive!Reader #Father!Alastor x Child!Reader #Father!Alastor #Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader #Only once never again – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

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tiny-pun · 3 months ago

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On writing pain

Okay so for once this isn’t an actual prompt but more so a tip:

If your character is supposedly in pain that lasts more than a couple of days or even weeks and months, eg. Because of a bigger wound or of a (new) disability… you most likely should show this in more ways than just the occasional “gasp and clutching the wound”!

Having such constant pain will have at least some kind of emotional impact: the stress of constantly being in pain, the constant push and pull between just succumbing to the pain and laying down until it goes away or just ignoring it and powering through. The balancing act of not overdoing it and being hypervigilant to the point you just hunch down to avoid worsening it.

Additionally you have to think about how to treat all of the different pains. How connected are they really? How much sense does it actually make to take pain meds ? Are there enough? Do I trust my doctor/s, to actually listen to me and take my pain seriously? Am I over exaggerating my pain? Am I underselling it? Am I annoying my doctor? Should I just wait and hope it goes away? It’s probably nothing anyway. But what if it’s so much worse ? What if this pain is just covering up something truly awful? But what if I’m making such a fuss now and tomorrow I can jump around like always? How unnecessary it would be to get so many people involved. Right ? This is especially hindered by poor use of words aka incapability to communicate. ( My head is just … kinda fuzzy?/Everything hurts?)

Another factor is how much they want to openly tell others about it. And whom they could possibly even tell and all the whys and hows surrounding it. And how hard it would be aka how long they’ve know each other and how much time they spent together. The hiding and lying adds more emotional stress and also possibly leads to neglect of any medical help. The “overt” complaining about the pain/situation can be exhausting and thus a different kind of stress. Especially if they’re feeling childish/unheard or otherwise ashamed about voicing anything but positive emotions but the pain is just too much and too consistent.

This can also lead to a constant comparison of how far into their recovery they “statistically already should be” or just the plain old “I could do xyz SO EASILY before”. Or worse: they’re comparing themselves to another (equally) wounded/disabled character. Wether it’s an internal belief or externally expected: if the character believes, that their wound/pain is comparably minor or should be easily overcome by themselves; and especially if they have a certain goal in mind, by which they should be back to their regular power and it’s not look in good … well then you certainly have a nice cocktail of stress and anxiety.

And if during the time of their supposed recovery, they end up getting some minor but more common sickness, eg. A cold or a stomach bug, it might not be their first thought. In fact they might do any and every test possible BUT think of the common cold. Not bc they’re necessarily stupid but bc of the fear, things might go to hell after all. Especially if the symptoms of both illnesses are similar enough. Anything else will just not be in their radar.

Also how would they like to be taken care of ? How much of that is a facade to please others ? Do they actually want to be hugged right now or are they just trying to please someone yet feeling suffocated? Do they just want their dead siblings soup and is a companionable silence enough to know they’re gonna be fine? How honest are they towards not only themselves but to others? And how much can the people and the situation itself even give that to them right now? (Do they need silence but they’re currently lying low in the city’s biggest hotel next to the market place?)

For all of this it doesn’t matter how big or small the pain actually is. What matters is that it is seemingly constant and only very slowly going away. The combination of constant physical pain with so much emotional turmoil and back and forth between opposing ideals aka stress can translate to even more physical pain aka psychosomatic pain. Headaches, breathlessness and even bigger issues such as literal heartaches can be the result.

This all can lead to spiralling and in the worst case a (temporary) depression. I dont think I have to explain how that could look like.

And one last thing: If the character is used to being in life or death situations, no matter if it’s due to multiple fights or an already existing disability: the common cold might be worse to deal with. They could be so used to dealing with the possibility of death that anything less than that is ironically unbearable. During a basically fatal stabbing they might just say a cheeky joke but freak out during the common cold.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor. If you have the same pain for more than 6 week pls get it checked out if you can! And get well soon. These are just possible ways to write, what kind of thoughts and issues any type of constant pain (fatal or not) could cause.

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k1ngdom-of-thieves · 2 years ago

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how would the first years react to finding out reader is a girl?

You guys really like these types of requests! Thank you so much for supporting me.

Here’s it with the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders

First years + Finding out reader is a girl!

Ace Trappola

Despite being one of your closest friends, Ace is probably one of the last people to find out. He doesn’t really pay the best attention to his surroundings.

How he found out was by complete accident. He was walk by Sam’s shop when the man himself called out to him to bring you a package.

Luckily he was already on the way to Ramshackle, so this wasn’t that big of a deal. He was still grumbling about doing “your chores” though. And Ace being Ace, was hungry and decided to check your package to see if there was food in it.

What he found wasn’t food, but an entire box of clothes with women’s sizing. Needless to say, you had an extremely confused Ace knocking on the door.

“Hey!! Are you really a girl?! I was looking at this box-I was hungry- Ugh, I’m making myself look like a huge jerk, aren’t I?”

Deuce Spade

Deuce is another who wouldn’t notice for a very long time. I think the only way he’ll realize is if either you tell him, or someone else does.

It’ll be a lot easier if you tell him straight up. If someone else does, he’s just going to think that they’re lying to get a reaction out of him for a while.

He’s gonna be so confused for a while after he finds out. Please give him a minute before telling him anything else. He’s doing the shinji pose lmaoo

The poor guy feels so guilty over making a simple mistake. Expect him to randomly apologize for the next week or so.

“W-WHAT?? I’m so sorry! I thought this whole time- ugh, I can’t believe I made such a big mistake. Huh? You’re not mad? Oh..ok.”

Jack Howl

Jack knew you smelt different from the others in the school, he just couldn’t tell if was because you were magic-less, from a different world, or just because you were around Grim for too long. The idea of you being a girl briefly crossed his mind, but he didn’t give it too much thought.

He found out when you were complaining to Grim about Crowley only giving you clothes in men’s sizing. Now he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but with his huge ears, he managed to accidentally overhear.

Jack felt incredibly guilty over listening in on a private conversation, but his surprise ultimately overpowered his guilt. He accidentally lets out a loud “Huh?” before covering his mouth with his hand.

When you called out to whoever was listening, Jack awkwardly shuffled out for you to see, lowered ears and all. He immediately started apologizing as his tail stood limp by his side.

*Sigh* “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but be honest with me, is the fact that you’re a girl supposed to be a secret? Or am I just the last person to realize?”

Epel Felmier

Epel didn’t think much of you more feminine appearance. I mean, he’s almost in the exact same boat as you, so he doesn’t have much room to judge.

This is also what led to him finding out. He was complaining about Vil putting him under a strict diet again and how he was glad there was at least one other “pretty boy” at NRC.

Which led to you correcting him. “You know I’m not actually a guy, right?” Poor guy froze up immediately.

This country boy feels the slight pang of betrayal in his heart; he thought you two were in this together! But it turns out he must bare the curse of “cute” alone. He’s so dramatic lmao.

“Wait, but then how did you- nevermind. Guess I’ll have to deal with Vil’s stupid anti-aging exercises on my own then!” He doesn’t realize that this doesn’t change much of anything, you guys aren’t even in the same dorm.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek never considered you to actually be a girl. Mostly because he was always paying more attention to Malleus’s “great deeds of the day”. He literally just helped someone with their homework.

He’s also another person that will only believe it if you tell him straight up. He’ll think that everyone else is just trying to make a fool out of an esteemed guard of Malleus!

If this is supposed to be a secret, why tell Sebek, first of all make sure you tell him in an empty room. He’s gonna be so loud about the entire ordeal.

If it’s not a secret, that just makes things easier for you. Either you can tell him straight up, or someone else will end up doing for you. He’s gonna feel terrible about it regardless though, so prepare yourself for a very loud apology.

“I HUMBLY APOLOGIZE FOR MY TRANSGRESSIONS! I-oh, I don’t need to yell? Alright, I am still deeply sorry though.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #ace trappola #twst ace #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #twst deuce #deuce spade #jack howl #twst jack #jack howl x reader #twst epel #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt x reader

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years ago

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There Are Circumstances

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick refuses to bring you on the mission which further deteriorates your already fragile relationship. And the true reason behind his decision catches you off guard.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and, as always, a hefty dose of emotional torment

WC: 3000+

This is Part 4 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Lieutenant!” Maverick calls after you as you storm out of the briefing room before anybody else can exit. You hear him pushing past the others as he follows you out the door. “Lieutenant!” he repeats, his voice echoing in the narrow passageway.

You quicken your pace, the curve of the steel walls blurring in your peripherals as you nearly sprint through the winding corridor.

“Y/N!” Maverick hollers over the persistent rattle of the ship. You keep your course without acknowledging him, but the hum of machinery drowns out Maverick’s footsteps and you don’t hear him running up behind you until it’s too late and he’s cutting you off before you can go any further. He stops so abruptly that you nearly crash into him. He releases a sharp breath, his lips pressed together tightly, and blocks your way when you try to move past. “Don’t take it personally,” he says.

“Fuck off,” you snap, trying to go around him.

Maverick holds his hand out to stop you and gives his head a slight shake. “If this is your idea of professionalism” –

You scoff indignantly. How dare he speak of professionalism after washing you out for no good reason. You’re the best pilot in the squadron – he’d admitted it himself – so his decision to keep you off the mission is personal. “Never would’ve pegged you for the spiteful type,” you say, trying to keep your voice level despite its underlying tremor.

Maverick’s gaze drifts as he looks stoically over your shoulder. He seems unfazed by your assessment or, at the very least, he hides it well. “This has nothing to do with our relationship,” he says, still not meeting your eye.

“What relationship?” you respond maliciously, reminding him that he had severed whatever connection the two of you shared weeks ago.

Maverick breathes out steadily and looks at you once more. “I can’t take you,” he says firmly. “Please don’t question my judgement.”

You let out a bitter chuckle and it reverberates in the passage, for a moment drowning out the rumble of the ship’s engines. “Did Cyclone put you up to this?” you ask.

Maverick shakes his head sternly. “This was my decision.”

You grit your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. You’re so offended that Maverick has excluded you from the operation, it hardly matters why he chose to do it. All that matters is that Maverick keeps hurting you. And all you want to do is hurt him back. “Let me pass,” you hiss, trying again to force your way through.

Maverick takes a hold of your arms to keep you in place. “Don’t do this,” he says, an edge to his tone despite the composure on his face.

“Do what?” you yell, fighting his firm grasp.

“You’re acting irrationally,” Maverick says in a low voice.

“Oh, am I?” you respond scathingly.

“We can discuss this in a mature, professional manner,” he urges.

You blink at him, stunned at his choice of words. “Are you saying I’m immature?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s the word you used” –

“Just listen to me, for god’s sake!” he growls, his volume rising threateningly. But you’re only pleased to witness the dissolution of his self-control. After all, you can’t be the only one here who feels something.

“I am listening!” you retort. “You’re professional and I’m not. You’re mature and I’m” –

“Why are you starting a fight?”

“I didn’t start this!” you shout, finally freeing yourself of his grip.

You push past him angrily, but he doesn’t let you get far before roaring, “YOU’RE A LOOSE CANNON!”

You freeze, silent for a second as you process this appraisal.

“If I can’t trust you down here, how am I supposed to trust you up there?” he yells.

You turn slowly to look at him, meeting his turbulent gaze. “You don’t trust me?” you ask quietly, your words barely audible amidst the clatter of the ship.

Maverick’s features contort apologetically, as though he immediately regrets his words. He sighs despairingly, his eyes glistening in the low, fluorescent lights as he squares his jaw. “I can’t get you to cooperate,” he says regretfully. “I don’t know how.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re a hell of a pilot,” he continues. “But, unfortunately, that’s not enough.”

You suck in your cheeks and bite into them aggressively, trying your best not to cry.

“I can’t have you ignoring my orders up there because you think you know better” –

“I would never –” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You have not demonstrated evidence to the contrary,” he says decisively.

“Maybe not during training, but on a mission” –

Maverick shakes his head. “I told you, Lieutenant: we train like we fight. So that, when we fight, we can come back alive. Ignoring instructions during training may have created bad habits that I don’t want to creep up on us in combat.”

“So, this is punishment?”

“No,” Maverick says quietly. “This is a lesson.”

You let out a disdainful sigh. “What’s the difference?”

Maverick takes a step toward you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says.

You back away. “And yet, here we are.”

Maverick watches you levelly, having nearly regained all his composure. “I don’t want to leave this unresolved.”

You consider his request. In just a few hours, he will be leaving for a mission from which he may never return. And yet, your resentment gets the best of you anyhow. “You know that I would never jeopardize this mission,” you say through gritted teeth. “You know that your reason for leaving me behind is bullshit!”

Maverick nods solemnly. “You’re entitled to that opinion.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t patronize me.”

Maverick doesn’t say much after this point, and you’re too distraught to carry on the conversation all on your own. Within minutes, other officers begin to round the corner as they make their way back to the living quarters and you join the procession mutely, giving Maverick one last, wounded glance.

…

You’re on deck when Maverick and his crew prepare for takeoff as your own fighter is on standby alert. He watches you solemnly as you wish your fellow aviators a successful mission and, when he approaches you, his eyebrows lifted inward worriedly, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of losing him for good.

He holds out his hand to you, but you don’t take it. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, shutting your eyes tightly when you feel his hands close around your back. “Fly safe, Captain,” you mutter, and you feel his head move up and down in a nod against your neck. When your eyes flutter open, you notice that Cyclone – who’d been watching your interaction from the sidelines – has turned away with a sour expression.

It takes every ounce of your self-control to keep from kissing him as you pull away from the embrace. And, when you catch Maverick’s miserable expression, you gather that he’s fighting the same impulse. He squeezes your hand discreetly before backing away with a grim expression. “We’ll see you soon,” he assures you.

…

“Requesting clearance for takeoff, sir,” you say tensely, interrupting the chaotic feed in your headset.

“Denied,” you hear Cyclone’s rigid response.

“But, sir –” you start when Cyclone interjects.

“I said no, Lieutenant.”

You throw your head back into your seat in frustration. Your heart is hammering so insistently that you feel its pulse in the tips of every one of your fingers. You’ve been trained to keep your emotions in check when faced with stressful situations. You’ve been taught to manage anxiety and overcome fear. But this? No amount of simulation exercises could have possibly prepared you for an event like this.

Maverick’s plane has been shot down and Cyclone has made the difficult decision of leaving him behind, despite the very real chance that he may still be alive. Rationally speaking, you understand that going back for Maverick isn’t worth the unnecessary risk of additional casualties. But, as is to be expected in such unprecedented circumstances, you’re noticing a rapid deterioration of your own logical reasoning skills to the point where you contemplate ignoring orders, taxiing to the runway, and taking off without pre-flight checks. Just when you’re about to release the parking brake, however, the ground crew cuts your engine. You glance down to see them signaling for you to exit the aircraft. “Admiral Simpson, what is happening?” you ask in a panic. “Why were my engines shut off?”

“You’ve been grounded, Lieutenant,” is his response. “Please report to mission control.”

The thought that Cyclone might be omitting information about Maverick and taking you off the deck in order to share it in private is causing you to stagger as you climb out of the cockpit. You’re so nauseated that you feel like you might faint before reaching the ground.

You remove your helmet at a run, skirting the maintenance personnel on the flight deck to reach the first stairwell. You barrel down the stairs and through a passageway toward the center of the carrier. Then down another flight of stairs, and then another. It feels like a lifetime has passed before you finally reach the Combat Information Center.

“Is he okay?” you cry, bursting through the door.

Cyclone turns to look at you with barely concealed irritation. He doesn’t appear impressed with your conduct.

You clear your throat and salute your superior. Then, you try again. “Where is he, sir?”

Cyclone tightens his mouth sternly before looking back to the screen behind him. “We don’t know,” he responds.

“What?” you screech, forgetting protocol yet again. This time, however, Cyclone doesn’t even flinch at your tone. “Why am I here then?” you ask, adding, “Sir,” as an afterthought.

“You’re here because I’m not losing another pilot to insubordination,” he replies without so much as looking in your direction.

“Another pilot?”

Cyclone grimaces. “Maverick pulled a stunt.”

“A stunt, sir?”

“They missed the target,” Cyclone states. “Their time was up, I ordered them to return.”

Your heart sinks. “He went back.”

“He took it out,” Cyclone says with a hint of respect. “Just before he was shot down.”

There’s a somber stillness in the room which tells you that there isn’t a soul here that thinks Maverick could have survived. You feel yourself start to shake, the hope that you were clinging to extinguished as the words shot down begin to finally sink in. Meanwhile, you’re stranded in the depths of the carrier, watching helplessly as the tactical team continues strategizing with their commanding officer on how best to bring the rest of their pilots home.

You lean your back into the wall, trying to steady your breathing, not sure how you’re still standing at all. You notice Cyclone’s occasional glances in your direction but you pay him little attention; in fact, you’re doing a fine job of tuning everyone out, until someone’s surprised tone of voice peaks your interest.

“Sir.” One of the operators points at the radar screen. You and everybody else look up at the blip moving swiftly in the direction of the carrier.

“Is that…” Cyclone leans over the operator’s chair. “One of ours?”

“Comms are down, sir,” the operator responds. “But it’s a Hornet.”

"How the hell?" Cyclone straightens his back in awe. He looks over his shoulder at you with a mildly amused expression. “It’s his tail code,” he says, holding your gaze significantly.

Before he can say anything else, you’re out the door, hurtling back up the stairs. You’re blocked, however, by med crews as they flock to the flight deck. By the time you arrive, the crowd surrounding the returned aviator is so large that you can’t get through. But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s alive. Maverick is alive.

…

Half an hour later, you rush into the officer’s locker room to find a shirtless Maverick grabbing a t-shirt out of his locker. He whips his head around when he hears you enter and lowers his arms slowly as you approach.

He glances over your shoulder anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

Although this isn’t the greeting you had in mind, you gaze at him affectionately, nonetheless, still in shock that he’s made it back. That you were so close to losing him forever and yet, here he stands before you, alive and relatively unscathed.

“Y/N,” he warns as you draw nearer.

But you barely hear him. Or, rather, you ignore his words. Perhaps he’s been right all along about your reluctance to comply with authority.

Maverick opens his mouth as if to speak again but, the closer you get, the more powerless he appears in your presence. And before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck.

Immediately, he’s hugging you back. He holds you firmly, as though he knows just how much you need to feel him after the fear of never being able to touch him again. You collapse into his embrace entirely, until all your limbs are so weak, he’s practically holding you upright. You’re crying and kissing his neck, and his chest heaves as you fall apart in his arms. “Sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear before pressing a burning kiss on your cheekbone. “You can’t be here.”

You compress yourself against him, completely disregarding everything that followed the word Sweetheart. Maverick’s biceps contract as he hugs you even tighter than before, his rapid breaths washing over the top of your head. You lift your face to glance up at him from the snug embrace and he lowers his head to rest on yours. He closes his eyes when your hand starts to move softly down his bare, upper body. “Just a little longer,” you breathe.

He nods against your forehead, bringing a hand up to rest over yours on his chest. His fingers curl around yours and he lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently. “I owe you an apology,” he says in an uneven tone.

Slowly and very reluctantly, you detach yourself from him. “No.” You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Trust me,” he says, his gaze dropping. “I do.”

It’s the hard set of his jaw that makes you uneasy at first. And then, when he looks back up at you, the grief in his swimming eyes alarms you further. “What is it?” you ask, not entirely certain you can handle the answer.

Maverick exhales resolutely and turns away to grab his duffel bag out of the locker. The muscles in his back shift when he bends to set it down on the bench. “I applied for a transfer,” he says.

You stare at the back of his head, paralyzed. Confused. Feeling like you might be sick. “What?” you breathe. “Why?”

Maverick straightens out and gives you a somber look. “Because,” he says. “I’m letting my feelings for you cloud my judgement.”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim. “You didn’t take me on the mission! Despite knowing that I’d get mad. You were right; I’m impulsive and unpredictable and –” you stop short when Maverick shakes his head.

“That’s not why I didn’t take you,” he says with a hint of regret in his tone.

You watch him drag a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t because you don’t trust me?” you say quietly.

“No,” he admits. “It’s because I don’t trust myself.”

You furrow your eyebrows, wanting more than anything to know exactly what Maverick is thinking. What Maverick is feeling.

He meets your gaze hesitantly. “I couldn’t trust myself to prioritize the mission objective over your safety.” He shakes his head, letting out a tortured sigh. “I couldn’t do it,” he whispers desperately. He releases an uneven breath and shifts his jaw to keep it from trembling. “I can’t fly with you.”

You watch the man who so rarely demonstrates emotion crumble under the gravity of his own words. But the show is fleeting. Abruptly, he wipes his brow in frustration and presses his lips together tightly, squaring his shoulders after having dropped them in despair. You can tell that he’s made up his mind and, despite it being an obviously valid decision considering the situation, you’re hurt that he’s done so without consulting you. “So, you’re just leaving?” you say, stunned.

“I have to,” he responds, finally pulling his shirt over his head.

You stare at him as he packs up his uniform and puts his gear into the locker. You want to tell him that he can’t leave; he can’t because you can’t stand the idea of him leaving. But he’s already resumed his stoic expression, so you can’t possibly tell him that you’re in love with him now. “That’s some bullshit,” you comment resentfully.

He pulls his duffel bag over his shoulder and glances over your face as he straightens his posture. “Lieutenant,” he says. “You’re still not listening to me.”

You grit your teeth in anger. “Luckily, it won’t be a problem for very much longer,” you reply coolly.

He nods, then he steps over the bench to head for the door.

You glance after him, barely able to hold back your tears. “How could you?” you yell, no longer capable of keeping it together.

Maverick turns back in alarm. He drops his bag and, in two wide strides he’s standing right before you with a severe expression on his face. “Are you kidding me?” he hisses. “Why are you screaming?” He looks over his shoulder to ensure that the door is still closed.

You scoff. Of all things, he chooses to dwell on your momentary lapse in self-control. “Stop pretending like this means nothing to you,” you spit out angrily.

His eyes widen and his eyebrows converge. “That’s the impression you got from I can’t perform my duty if it means putting your life in danger?”

You open your mouth to say something, but his words have rendered you temporarily speechless. Finally, you remind him, “Putting my life on the line is my job.”

Maverick sets his jaw. “Precisely.”

“So, you’re going to run away because it’s a challenge?”

“It’s not just a challenge, Y/N,” he says. “It’s not possible. This was never going to work! Perhaps under different circumstances…” he sighs miserably. “We knew that!”

You let out a strangled breath. “I didn’t.”

His eyes search yours as though he can’t believe you haven’t come to the same conclusion. “Not only is it completely out of line for me to pursue a relationship with a lieutenant in my own squadron, but we also keep glossing over the fact that you are half my age! How could this have possibly gone anywhere?”

You feel the trembling of your bottom lip and bite into it forcefully, closing your eyes. “Please don’t go,” you whisper. “I… I –” I love you, is what you ought to say. But, instead, you utter, “I’ll stop disobeying orders.”

“That’s not what this is about” –

“I won’t question you,” you continue, opening your eyes. “I won’t seek you out. It’ll be just like before. A strictly professional relationship, nothing more. Just please don’t go.”

“It won’t change how I feel” –

“It will,” you assure him. “It will… in time. You’ll see. We can do this. You don’t have to go.”

Maverick watches you skeptically so you extend your hand to him to formally shake on it. His gaze sweeps over your features and the heartache is apparent in his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, but you can sense the hesitation in his words.

“You’re Maverick Mitchell,” you say, trying to sound casual while your heart hammers with dread. “Of course, you can.”

Maverick’s mouth twitches upward slightly, although his eyes still watch you sadly. Finally, he places his hand in yours. His grip isn’t nearly as firm as you’d expect; in fact, he’s barely touching you. “For the record,” he says, “I think this is a terrible idea.”

You let out a nervous chuckle when you glimpse the faint smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “How hard can it be, Captain?” you say lightly.

He glances at you pointedly, then responds cheekily, “It can be very hard, Lieutenant.”

Read Part 5

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 5 months ago

Note

How about defy/404 with an s/o who enjoys doing domestic activities with them, such as wanting to cook alongside them, or do their hair for them, I think it would sound nice.

(GFL) Domestic fluff with 404 and DEFY

404: UMP45, UMP9, HK416, G11 DEFY: AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, RPK-16, Angelia

45 isn't really used to just being able to relax, always having lived on the move with her squad.

But thanks to S/O, she's can sit around doing nothing for once, and it made her a little flustered.

The sounds of plates gently clattering into the sink is enough to stir 45 out of her thoughts, her attention going back to S/O washing the dishes.

They had just finished dinner together with the rest of 404, but it was only them in the room. Something that suit her just fine as she walked up from behind and gently wrapping her arms around them.

Instead of her usual sarcastic smile present, this one was more genuine.

(S/O) "Fourty-five?-"

(UMP45) "Am I not allowed to hug?"

Though she was teasing, her voice was gentler than usual, making S/O smile back.

(S/O) "Hm, I suppose I'll allow it.~"

The two enjoyed the silence and each other's warmth, saying nothing else for a long while.

9 almost tackled S/O into a hug as she walked through the dorm's sliding door.

(UMP9) "S/O! Hug me!"

S/O was startled but quickly returned her affection, laughing all the while.

(S/O) "Nine, welcome back!"

She nuzzled her head into their shoulders, making S/O blush, but she wasn't immune to the embarrassment herself.

9 has S/O sit down with her, regaling them on how the mission went with a big smile and cuddling even closer.

S/O felt lucky anytime she came home undamaged, getting to spend time before the next mission took place.-

(UMP9) "S/O? Are you listening?"

(S/O) "H-Huh? Oh, sorry was lost in thought-"

UMP9 began pouting, something that made S/O struggle to hold back a smile.

416 for once is not muttering something under her breath when spending time with S/O, her tsundere tendencies being completely absent.

Instead, there's a soft smile on both their faces as S/O leans closer into her with a book at hand, both of them reading in silence.

As long as they didn't tease 416 (As much fun as it was), or brought attention to their smile, S/O could at least enjoy the sight of her at peace.

Unless they stared at her too long with affectionate eyes, which would make her flustered.

Which unfortunately, they did.

(HK416) "W-What? Is there something on my face?"

(S/O) "Nah, just admiring how pretty you are."

She scoffs as a tinge of red dusted her cheeks, not meeting S/O's eyes.

(HK416) "F-Figures. After all, you can't get much better than me."

Feeling S/O peck against her cheek made 416 drop her own book as her core started overheating.

S/O fed G11 with a spoon as she lazily savored the soup, making S/O chuckle at her sleepy expression.

Granted, that's how she normally looked like but today it was cuter than usual.

Especially when she was staying awake solely to spend time with S/O, that fact alone warming their heart.

(S/O) "Taste good?"

G11 just hummed in response and sat closer to them.

(G11) "More please."

S/O felt her hand brush against theirs, wordlessly asking to be held. Something they had no trouble indulging G11 in.

G11's smile was subdued, but very much present as she just scooted closer each bite, S/O not minding at all.

12 leaned her head back as S/O brushed it gently, straightening it out while talking about nothing in particular.

She wasn't entirely used to getting pampered like this, but 12 had no objections to having this be a common occurence.

Her eyes remained closed the entire time, but she did enjoy the feeling of S/O's hands on her frame.

(S/O) "Your hair is really soft..."

(AK-12) "It's hard to maintain this, y'know?"

(S/O) "I wasn't even aware you did at all."

She pouted at that, her brows furrowing ever so slightly.

(AK-12) "I'm not a savage, S/O. I have to at least make myself presentable."

(S/O) "O-Oh sorry! I didn't mean it like that, I just meant that T-Dolls didn't really have normal hair-...Agh, I'm making this worse.-"

Immediately breaking her facade, 12 giggled and let her hand brush against their face.

(AK-12) "Relax, I know what you mean."

Now it was S/O's turn to pout, something that 12 didn't need to open her eyes to see.

94 had no idea how to just "relax" and do nothing, but that was something S/O was happy to teach her.

Which led to S/O and 94 watching a tv show together.

The entire time, 94 had a very inquisitive expression, something that made S/O laugh with how intense she looked.

She then turned her attention to S/O, confused at their laughter.

(AN-94) "Did something funny happen? This scene seems quite serious."

(S/O) "No, it's not the show it's just...You look really cute right now, Ninety-Four."

Her eyes widened at the compliment, her hand slightly fidgeting from the compliment.

(AN-94) "Ah...Thank you."

She leaned closer to S/O, their response wrapping an arm around her waist and making her smile.

15 was opposed to just standing around and doing nothing, but S/O had managed to convince her to take a rest.

But to make the most of it, S/O had asked 15's help with cooking.

She was very logical and by the book when it came to the recipes at first, until S/O had showed her a family recipe.

(AK-15) "Wouldn't this make the dish too salty?"

(S/O) "No, it actually balances out! We add soy sauce to the rice while its frying in the pan to make it brown, and-"

The entire time, 15's attention was solely focused on S/O as they spoke, only after a few minutes did they sheepishly rub the back of their neck.

(S/O) "A-Ah, sorry! I'm probably boring you with my family's past, aren't I?-"

15 immediately shook her head and responded.

(AK-15) "No. It's something that matters to you, and couldn't be boring to me. Please, continue."

Though her expression and voice remained stoic, her eyes didn't budge once from S/O's face, making them smile.

(S/O) "Hah, right. Would you like to try what my family taught me then?"

(AK-15) "I'll be under your care, S/O."

(S/O) "Hah, it's just rice! Nothing that serious...B-But uh, try to be careful with the pan, I think you might accidentally rip the handle off with your strength."

(AK-15) "...I will attempt not to damage your cooking utensils, S/O."

S/O and 16 stepped into the shower together, with S/O blushing madly at the beautiful woman behind them.

16 giggled at their reaction and teasingly leaned in.

(RPK-16) "Is something the matter, S/O?~"

(S/O) sigh "Don't tease me too much, okay?"

(RPK-16) "Hm, alright. Humans are strange, you know I'm not human but you're having this kind of reaction."

(S/O) "I think anyone would be if they were sharing a shower like this!"

Much to S/O's surprise, she did as they asked and didn't tease them, instead just making small talk and washing S/O's back for them, with S/O doing the same for her.

It was actually relaxing, as both of them felt the stress of the day melt away from the hot waters.

(RPK-16) "...If I may ask, would it not be more refreshing for a cold shower, considering you were sweating in the training hall-"

(S/O) "Ugh, god no. We're supposed to be getting ready for bed, not shocking me awake..."

16 giggled at their reaction, making S/O dread what she had planned in the future with that information.

Angelia was typing something on her computer, compiling a report of the previous few missions and some other logistics for the Commander.

Before S/O had brought some coffee for her, sitting beside her and giving a loving kiss to her cheek.

Angelia gently grabbed their wrist with her prosthetic arm as she continued typing with one arm, lovingly brushing her thumb across their hand.

(Angelia) "Thanks."

(S/O) "Geez, how much reports do you have to turn in, Ange?"

(Angelia) "Hm, a few more then there shouldn't be anything pressing after that. But I'm sure my girls will bring something to my attention."

S/O sighed dramatically as they leaned into her shoulder.

She didn't turn her attention from the screen, playfully shoving S/O off her with a small grunt.

(Angelia) "Relax, you'll get your time with me soon, just be patient."

(S/O) "Sure I can't indulge myself right now?-"

(Angelia) "We both know what'll happen if you try."

(S/O) "Do I?"

Angelia's eyes glanced over to S/O with a clearly unamused look, but she sighed as she finished typing before turning over to them.

And promptly pinched their cheek with her prosthetic, a little smirk growing at their reaction.

(S/O) "OWOWOW!"-

(Angelia) "Don't be a smartass and lemme work. Unless you want me to get AK-15 to throw you out."

S/O rubbed their cheek before sighing.

(S/O) "The worst part is that Fifteen would do that..."

(Angelia) "Any of them would, really. I'd like to see 94 try it."

(S/O) "...Y-You wouldn't order them to do it, right?"

(Angelia) "...Depends."

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pxayopina-unilsiyu · 5 months ago

Text

for me, the most tragic element of Neytiri's character is that she is a fiercely independent person who keeps having her agency taken from her.

she was a redundant daughter, a born-and-raised hunter/warrior who is very much shown to still be far more adept and interested in that life path—yet when Sìlwanin died, she was suddenly thrust into a completely different role, one she is demonstrated as having far less interest and feels far less fulfilled in. she still clings to her role as tsamsiyu and struggles to embrace her tole as tsakarem. this is to be expected. she was not supposed to become one.

on top of inheriting Sìlwanin's life path, she also inherits her goddamn fiancé, and Tsu'tey wasn't just supposed to be an arranged loveless marriage—we can safely presume him and Sìlwanin's connection was an element in him being chosen as Eytukan's heir—he was the love of Sìlwanin's goddamn life.

so yes, while i am sure Neytiri does love Jake for all of his Jakey qualities, i am also absolutely certain her choice to boink him was, in part, an act of rebellion against her imposed societal role, a desperate play for some scrap of autonomy and choice in what goes on in her life. and like, you go girl.

and what's really disappointing about The Way of Water is that this element of Neytiri's character is still not resolved. she is still being constantly forced to play second fiddle to someone else. every single decision she tries to make is immediately undermined by Jake, and yes i do understand his reasonings but!!! oh my god, can you please listen to your wife at least a little bit sometimes. i am sure you guys can discuss your decisions and collaborate like married people are supposed to instead of always dismissing her outright. it is painful to watch once you notice it

and yeah i'll even go so far to say that threatening to kill Spider was probably consequential of Neytiri feeling like she is absolutely never fucking in control of her own life, of wanting to exert control over someone else for once (Quaritch), and yes i will reiterate how glad i am that the extended scene with Jake talking her down was cut, because for fuck's sake, not everything she needs to do needs to be because of someone else's (read: a man's) influence, let the woman make her own choices for once in her life.

sparing Spider was the right decision and it needs to be her decision otherwise she looks like she is completely controlled by Jake's direction and would gladly murder kids if her big strong hubby wasn't there to remind her what the morally correct choice is.

#avatar #avatar: the way of water #neytiri #meta #none of you get her like i do!!1! /j

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Okay hey me again 😞 was hoping to send a request for more TASM!Peter x reader but one where he is comforting the reader bc they were stood up by their friends(cough cough me😬) like they were supposed to go out and she got all dolled up but they ditched her

This might be an oddly specific ask but I thought. Why not 😝 feel free to take the concept and RUN! I am all for writers doing whatever the hell they want

-🍁

Hi honey!! I'm so sorry that happened to you, I sincerely hope it wasn't anything like the scenario I chose for this story but if your friends did intentionally abandon you, that speaks far more poorly of them than you. I had that happen to me when I was younger, and now that I have more perspective it's easy to see how those girls were using that as an immature way to deal with their own insecurity. So once again, I hope you weren't in this sort of situation, but if you were please know that it's likely got nothing to do with you and you're amazing and lovely!! <3

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 586 words

Peter’s hand is warm on your back, rubbing big circles with a steadying pressure. It’s comforting and undoing at the same time, because you’re stubbornly sure you wouldn’t have become so discomposed without his tender sympathy. Another tear slips down your cheek, splattering mascara-black on your thigh.

“They’re idiots,” Peter says, not for the first time. His voice is weighed down by helpless distress. “They don’t know what they’re missing, sweetheart.”

You inhale wetly. “I just don’t get how they thought I wouldn’t find out.”

“My point exactly. They’re idiots.”

You sniffle again, your tear ducts finally emptied, and you want to lean your head on Peter’s shoulder, but that feels too pathetic and needy right now. Come to think of it, it was probably your pathetic neediness that got you ditched tonight.

It isn’t the first time this has happened. At least, not the first time you’ve made plans with your friends only for them to all become suddenly busy right before. It is the first time, though, that you’ve received a text meant for someone else, saying that your friend is on their way to dinner and will meet everyone else there. The natural conclusion is that this was just the first slip up; that every time you’ve gotten dressed up only to have your plans canceled, the rest of your friends are carrying out the night without you.

Like he can feel the want, Peter stops rubbing your back to wrap his arm around your shoulders, encouraging you downwards until you’re leaning on him. He pets your hair, mindless of your makeup and snot getting on his shirt.

“Can I say something about them that you might not like?”

Trepidation creeps into your throat, but you nod. Peter would never say anything to make you feel worse than you do right now.

“I’ve never thought they were very nice people,” he confesses quietly. “The way they talk about each other when some of them aren’t around, not to mention the way they talk about other people…I mean, you’re not like that.” His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb stroking soothingly just above your collarbone. “I think that’s why they don’t always want to hang out with you, honey. You just don’t engage with that stuff. And I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

You’re silent but for your quiet sniffling, unwilling to condemn your friends but not really finding fault in Peter’s assessment either.

“They don’t deserve you,” he says softly. “I’m not just saying that because I love you, okay? I mean it. You’re nicer than them, and I think they know it. They don’t want to have to measure up.” A pause. “You hearing me, sweetheart?”

“I’m hearing you,” you reply croakily. “Thanks, Pete.”

He squeezes your shoulder. “Nothing to thank me for. Listen, I’m sure you’re not feeling it tonight, but if you still want to wear this outfit somewhere, I’d love to take you out tomorrow. You look so pretty, it’d be a shame if no one but me got to see you all dolled up.”

You raise your head from his shoulder to give him a look, knowing there’s mascara tracked down your face and snot glossy under your nose. “You think? Should we go out right now?”

Peter knows what you’re about, but his smile is teeming with sweetness anyway. “Absolutely, if you wanna.”

“You gonna show me off? Just like this?”

“Grab your bag, sweet thing. Let’s show ‘em who runs this town.”

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cyanoticfireflies · 9 months ago

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Hazbin Group Chat Fic, pt 2

(Part 1)

PurpleFemale: All right, which one of you hos put a carafe of blood in the communal refrigerator?

SeXXXySpider: Objection! I’m the only certified ho here and it wasn’t me

Alastor: Ah, guilty as charged, I’m afraid.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Why the fuck would you even…

WhiskeyWhiskers: Nope. Nope, I’m good.

SssirP: Why would you put blood in the refrigerator?

SeXXXySpider: Christ, Pentious, read a room….

Alastor: To keep it from spoiling, of course

CharChar: Alastor, listen. We are a ~totally accepting~ group of people who are okay with each others… quirks.

Alastor: Why thank you.

CharChar: But maaaybe please don’t leave blood in the refrigerator like it’s a carton of milk?

Alastor: Perhaps I’m misunderstanding your logic, dear girl. Why is it okay to store the mammary extractions of a cow in the refrigerator but not the vascular extractions of a deer?

PurpleFemale: Oh thank god.

SeXXXySpider: Okay, I’m not the only one who immediately assumed it was the blood of a sinner, right?

NaNaNaNiff: Not this time at least!!!

SeXXXySpider: (ㆆ _ ㆆ)

SssirP: But… we keep food in there.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Apparently so does Alastor.

PurpleFemale: Gross.

Alastor: I must say, I’m feeling very singled out right now.

CharChar: Oh, no, Alastor, nothing like that! We’re just all still adjusting to the little quirks from living together. Right, everyone?

Alastor: Yet here I am, being publicly judged for what I choose to put in my mouth and yet no one says a thing to the effeminate spider.

SeXXXySpider: *WHEEZE*

PurpleFemale: Kill me. Please.

WhiskeyWhiskers: I hate every single one of you.

Alastor: Really, half of the freezer is taken up by the boxes of popsicles he keeps in there.

PurpleFemale: …

WhiskeyWhiskers: …

SeXXXySpider: …

SssirP: Alastor does have a point, actually. We’re supposed to share the space, but Angel Dust takes up more than his fair share.

PurpleFemale: I’m simultaneously so relieved and so disappointed.

SeXXXySpider: I was actually going to be really proud of the radio freak

SeXXXySpider: And was then going to go bleach my brain

WhiskeyWhiskers: Alastor, do you even hear yourself when you say things

Alastor: Sorry?

CharChar: Um, I think everyone else might have drawn their own conclusions about what you were making an allusion to….

NaNaNaNiff: They definitely thought you meant dicks!

Alastor: I did not.

PurpleFemale: Well we know that NOW

CharChar: Actually, that gives me an idea for a get-to-know-everyone exercise!

WhiskeyWhiskers: Of course it does.

CharChar: Everyone should tell the group what their absolute favorite food is!

CharChar: I really like apples. I know it’s cliché with my dad and all, but I remember being really little and him conjuring up some for me to snack on and they were always so good!

PurpleFemale: That’s actually really wholesome, babe.

Purple Female: I guess chicharron for me. But, like. Good chicharron. If it’s shitty, then it’s worse than no chicharron.

SeXXXySpider: Lasagna ((っっ˘ڡ˘ςς)

SeXXXySpider: But if you get the sauce from a jar, you deserve to be shot

PurpleFemale: Wow, Angel. You actually… participated. And answered. And the answer wasn’t a sex joke.

SeXXXySpider: Hey, I’m happy to talk about sucking the cream right out of a long thick cannoli if you want me to

PurpleFemale: And there it went.

WhiskeyWhiskers: You should know by now not to tempt fate

PurpleFemale: Yeah….

SssirP: I actually quite like a good chamomile tea and biscuits, myself.

NaNaNaNiff: Hehehe, you don’t like scrambled eggies?

SssirP: … I do like them hardboiled on occasion

SeXXXySpider: Damn, hardcore, my guy

SeXXXySpider: I guess there really is a kink for anything in Hell

SssirP: I didn’t mean my Egg Boiz!

SssirP: I would never!

CharChar: How about you, Niffty?

NaNaNaNiff: I like chocolate!

PurpleFemale: That was a surprisingly normal answer.

NaNaNaNiff: Chocolate covered ants, chocolate covered crickets, chocolate covered silkworms

NaNaNaNiff: Chomp chomp!

WhiskeyWhiskers: Again, Vaggie, tempting fate…

SeXXXySpider: I’ve never regretted less not having a gag reflex

CharChar: That’s… that’s all right! Some people do eat, um… chocolate covered bugs. Everyone has their own tastes!

CharChar: Husk! What about you?

WhiskeyWhiskers: Macallan

CharChar: What’s that?

PurpleFemale: Husk. No.

WhiskeyWhiskers: Glenfiddich

PurpleFemale: No, Husk

WhiskeyWhiskers: Balvenie

SeXXXySpider: Daaaaamn, daddy only drinks the top shelf shit

WhiskeyWhiskers: Call me that again and see what happens

SeXXXySpider: Don’t flirt with me in public, baby

PurpleFemale: Brands of whiskey can’t be your favorite foods, Husk

WhiskeyWhiskers: No one else was told their answers were wrong

CharChar: I mean, no, but everyone else’s answers were technically food, sooooooo

WhiskeyWhiskers: All right, fair enough, I guess.

WhiskeyWhiskers: I mean, shitty bar food?

WhiskeyWhiskers: I don’t know. It’s just kind of nostalgic?

CharChar: Really?

WhiskeyWhiskers: I think my first vegetable was celery from a bloody mary.

SssirP: Aww. That’s kind of sad.

SeXXXySpider: Newsflash, P – if we weren’t all walkin’ tragedies we wouldn’t be here

CharChar: Alastor, I guess you like venison?

Alastor: Indeed, my dear! ThE RaReR ThE BeTtEr

SeXXXySpider: Hey, Niff. Can I be your best friend if I bring you, oh, say, a 10-foot or so chocolate covered moth?

PurpleFemale: Please don’t make that sexy.

WhiskeyWhiskers: What did you say earlier about bleaching your brain?

SeXXXySpider: No, but seriously. Chomp chomp, sister, just like you said! No sexy. Just crunchy.

NaNaNaNiff: Ehehehehe, that’s a LOT of bug!

SeXXXySpider: I’ll see what I can do, toots

WhiskeyWhiskers: If we’re actually killing Valentino, I want in

CharChar: … I mean… me… too?

SeXXXySpider: ╰། ╰། ◉ ◯ ◉ །╯།╯

PurpleFemale: Whoa. Really, babe?

SssirP: Goodness!

Alastor: That doesn’t sound like you at all, Charlie

CharChar: Angel’s boss is a jerk

SeXXXySpider: Bet

(Part 3) (Part 4)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #group chat #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #niffty #alastor #sir pentious

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solvrized · 2 years ago

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secret texts

୨୧ ꒰ pairing ꒱ : silver x f!reader

୨୧ ꒰ context ꒱ : au silver was asking for love advice and accidentally sent the text to you

୨୧ ꒰ tags ꒱ : smut, sexting

୨୧ ꒰ author’s note ꒱ : its me again writing content for silver, aged up ofc. idk how to write out texts so pls forgive the look if it’s ugly x.x

It was a normal night for you. You were laying in bed listening to music and studying when your phone flashed a notification.

silver: well how am i supposed to tell [y/n] when every time i see her, my brain thinks less than appropriates thoughts

y: um, i’m gonna assume this wasn’t meant for me?

silver: please forgive me [y/n]. can you pretend you didn’t read that?

y: aww silver don't apologize. i'll continue to think about it actually. so you like me huh?

silver: no... i was telling someone what someone else said about you.

y: yeah uh huh, sure you were. if that’s the case, can you tell me who said it? maybe i think less than inappropriate thoughts about them too, who knows?

silver: i seriously doubt that.

y:well we’ll never know unless you just tell me.

silver: well that’s never going to happen so let’s just leave this conversation where it is, sorry for disturbing your night prefect.

y: well, now i’m just gonna have to assume it’s you who thinks about me that way. and that has me really wet right now, believe it or not.

silver: i find that very hard to believe.

you take your pillow and set it up in front of you so that you can lean your phone it. you slide off your underwear and open you legs and position yourself in front of the camera. leaving your face out so it’s just you from the lips down, in your night jersey and your area on display.

you take your fingers and spread your lips apart so that he can see how wet you are.

y: attachment.image

y: believe me now?

he swallows hard. not expecting for this conversation to be happening and certainly not expecting to see you like this. his boner growing hard in his own pants.

silver is very much a traditional man and he never expected to be seeing this from you.

yet, he can't help his growing desire for you. not wanting to miss this opportunity, he slides his boxers down and takes a picture.

carefully checking the name to make sure he doesn’t have the same mishap.

silver: attachment.image

silver: i can't believe i'm dong this. look what what you’ve done.

y: can i tell you all the things that i want to do to you right now?

silver: please go ahead.

y: well first i’d love to see how you taste. your cock looks nice and big and i’d love to see how much of you i could fit. i’d pay attention to every breath and moan you make when my tongue glides over you so i know what to keep doing.

silver: i’d hold your head in my hands as i fuck your mouth. i’d push myself into the back of your throat making you take all of me. i’d cum in your mouth and watch you swallow every last drop.

y: my my silver, who knew you had this in you?

y: after that, i would stand up and bend over so that you could take me. you’d smack my ass really hard and you’d slam into me as i scream your name over and over.

silver: i’d grab your boobs for stability and play with them as i pound into you over and over. i wouldn’t stop until you were begging me to let you cum

y: i’d squeeze myself around you to feel you twitch inside of me

silver: and i’d make you let me fill you up so much that i’d be dripping down your leg

y: i think i'm cumming for real now

silver: yeah i’ve definitely made a mess on my bed

y: we should maybe do this in real life sometime huh?

silver: can i at least take you out on a proper date first?

y: of course. i can't wait :)

#solvrwrites #twst smut #twst silver #twst silver smut #twisted wonderland smut #twst silver x reader #twisted wonderland #silver twisted wonderland

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bokettochild · 11 months ago

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Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.”

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there..

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different.

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt.

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling.

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?”

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone.

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky.

“Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.”

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?”

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.”

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified.

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.”

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod.

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died.

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.”

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up.

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him?

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.”

Deku Tree bless, is he right?

“A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.”

Sheik.

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before.

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?”

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?”

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.”

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.”

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh.

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs.

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens.

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity.

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being.

He can only ignore it for so long though.

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind.

“Failure follows in your legacy.”

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create?

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own?

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.”

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.”

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.”

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of.

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish?

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t.

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking.

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end.

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others.

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again.

Failures.

Never intended to exist.

Ought never have come to be.

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses.

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing.

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls.

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop?

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity.

“Yes?”

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.”

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to.

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.”

“We can stop for a rest.”

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone.

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt.

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing.

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance.

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head.

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful.

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures.

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent.

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse.

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred.

It’s freeing.

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again.

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world.

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent. Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well.

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts.

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t.

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon.

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.”

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything.

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing.

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure.

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry.

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering.

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away.

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed.

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow.

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them.

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes.

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?”

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury.

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest.

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning.

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #ketto writes #lu wind #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu four #fierce deity #dark fierce deity

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divinesolas · 2 years ago

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Can I request something like where Ethan is ghostface obviously and the reader is Dewey Riley's adoptive kid and she kinda blames Gale for what happened to her father and that encourages Ethan to put gale up on the list and forward to the reveal where detective bailey wants to shoot the reader and then she admits to being pregnant and that makes Ethan change since he knows he's the father and is spared from death because Sam and Tara saw he was doing what he did just to get his father's approval and they lie to the core 4 saying Ethan wasn't one of the killers because he promised to be better for the sake of his child?

a/n | i am so sorry this took so long 😭 i kinda glossed over the gale part, definitely not my best work

warnings | murder, angst? fluff ending, kind of rushed? not proofread

Sam puts a protective arm in front of you while Bailey and the two ghost faces stare you all down. You spaced out as you felt like you could barely breathe, you didn't want to die. You blocked out whatever Bailey was talking about, whatever long monologue he was giving. When one of the ghostface’s lifts their hands and takes off their mask, you are greeted with a very familiar face. You feel like your heart has dropped further into your stomach, Sam gives you an apologetic look as you fall from your crouched position to the floor.

“Ethan?”

His grin falls once his eyes land on you. Your eyes drop to the floor not even being about to look at him. You feel sick. Ethan has been your boyfriend for a couple months now, you loved him so much and he seemed to love you too but right now you can't seem to think that. You haven't managed to get over your grief until you met him. The loss of your father was a big hit to you. You could barely eat, get out of bed, you barely even finished the school year. You hoped when you moved to new york you could have a fresh-ish start but you couldn't. At Least not until you met ethan. Ethan changed everything for you. He was like a breath of fresh air, he was so comforting, so kind. He was always patience, on the days you didnt want to go out he would sit with you and listen as you droned on and on about your problems. I guess now his weird look whenever you would complain about gale made sense. He wanted to kill her.

In your daze you must miss the commotion because suddenly when you feel hands grip you and drag you up you look around and notice quinn was.. Alive? And a ghostface? What was happening? You thrash around in Baileys arms while sam and tara give you a look of horror. You suddenly feel a cold metal end touch the side of your head. He was holding a gun to your head.

“Nobody move!”

You cant breathe. You didnt want to die.You stop moving and he takes another step back. You finally lock eyes with the one guy you didnt want to. He has an angry look on his face, it must be at you. You can barely believe this is happening.

“I want you to all give her one final look before i kill her!”

“Dont!” Sam begins to take a step forward before bailey presses the head deeper into the side of your head, “Don't move!”

“Please dont kill me…” The tears are running down your face as you shut your eyes.

You open your eyes and look at ethan who had a conflicted look, “Please ethan…”

“Your silly boyfriend cant save you now.”

You dont even listen to quinns voice as you continue to plead with ethan.

“Im pregnant.”

“What?” “Like hell you are?” “Huh?” “I'm supposed to believe that right?”

You dont care what anyone else has to say as you continue to talk to ethan, “I found at a couple days ago. I was gonna tell you later tonight when you came over for our date i promise,”

“Liar!” quinn hisses at you.

“Im not lying!” You yell out as Ethan stands unmoved, his grip on his knife tight, His gaze remaining locked onto yours. “Ethan please.”

Bailey takes another step back and grips you tighter causing you to hiss out in pain, “Ive let you have your talk now shut up.”

“Let her go.”

Ethan glares at his father who rolls his eyes.

“Dont tell me you believe her.”

“Ethan im telling the truth i swear. Believe me please.”

“Let her go.”

Quinn lets out a frustrated sound as ethan takes a step forward, “oh come on ethan dont act like a pussy for this slut, like you would even be the father-”

In a flash ethan is is suddenly behind quinn and grips her sliding his knife along her throat in, bailey in his shock loosens his grip enough where you can slide out of his grip and you rush over to sam who grips onto you.

“you alright?”

you nod and let out a sigh of relief, “yeah yeah”

Ethan and bailey have a stare down, “What have you done! all our work, all our time-”

“All your time! All your work! I never wanted any fo this! All you knew was oh richie this and oh richie that and im sick of it! I didn't even like richie! Nobody did! nobody other than you and your daughter.”

“who was your sister, who you just killed!”

“I wish i did it sooner.”

Tara gives you an odd look, “do you think they realize were still here?” You shrug.

“Youre no son of mine.”

“I never was! but she,” His blood covered knife points in your general direction, “is my life. and i wont let you take her away from me.”

You let out a barely vocal gasp as you stare at ethan in a daze.

Sam puts a hand on your shoulder, “go with tara and find somewhere to hide. something tells me its about to get bad.”

despite the fact you dont want to leave ethan tara is already grabbing your arm and dragged you away. You look back and notice a fight breakong out and gunshots ring. You close your eyes and pray to whoever is listening ethan isn't getting hurt.

You find a safe place farther away with tara and you two crouch together.

“You alright?”

you nod and put your head in your hands, “im alright… I think. You?”

She looks conflicted, “chad…”

“im so sorry tara.”

You place a hand on hers and squeeze it, she gives you a tight lipped smile.

“I should be the one saying sorry to you i mean, youre the pregnant one. If that was real.”

You nod, “it is, i found out a couple days ago. i felt really sick and went to the doctors.”

“How far along you are?”

“12 weeks, found out a little later than most do.”

“holy shit thats fucking crazy.”

Another gun shot rings and you close your eyes.

“God i hope hes okay.”

Tara doesn't reply. just leaning her head back to lay against the wall.

You dont know how much longer passes but it feels like years when the door slams open and a ghostface walks in.

you and tara huddle together and tara grabs a brick that had been on the ground, “stay back you bitch.”

The mask gets ripped off and ethan drops the mask to the ground. His face is covered in sweat and you can see specks of blood everywhere but his remain locked on your figure.

“Ethan.”

He rushes over and drops to his knees, his hands ans eyes frantically checking over you, “are you alright? are you hurt? do you need something a bandage-” you put your hand on his face and smile, “ethan im okay.”

“Was it real? are you really?”

His head drops to your neck as he hugs you, “im sorry im so sorry forgive me.”

Tara noticing sam in the doorway stands and makes her way over to her. Deciding not to comment on her ghostface outfit. “He dead?”

Sam gives a comfirming nod.

“Kirby checked over chad, said if the paramedics arrive soon enough he can be saved.”

Sam smiled as taras eyes light, “really?”

Sam nods, taras face drops as she turns back to look at ethan who was still fusing over you.

“What are we gonna do about him?”

Sam looks at the two of you and thinks it over. The rational part of her (or maybe its just billy) tells her to kill him, its the sure way to keep everyone safe.

but she can't. not when she watches how hard her fought for you. She watches as he cries and holds you while you smile at him. “He can stay. We'll come up with something to tell everyone. I think it'll be just fine.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #jack champion #jack champion x reader #scream six #scream #scream vi

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