#sojourner is cute

[lets-try-some-writing]

I wonder what was Mars reaction to humans sending him rovers the first time. i imagine Earth probably warned him in advance that humans planned on sending him something (Sojourner was the first sent if i believe correctly) and he knowing what humans are like prepared for the worst definitely

Mars: I really hope this thing won't infect me with anything..

Sojourner: *beeps*

Mars:

Sojourner:*starts collecting rocks*

Mars:

Moon: Earth asks if you're al- *senses Mars em field*Are you crying??

Mars: *deep in fatherhood*No *he is*

This is adorable and it deserves a mini fic. Enjoy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Mars always told himself he didn’t mind the solitude. He was near his brother and close enough to Mortus—or rather Pluto—to feel content with himself. Sometimes Halley came to visit, which was always a pleasant surprise. It was not often someone immune to the rust corroding him happened to be both nearby and actually interested in communication. Earth was certainly nice enough, and Mars eagerly awaited her every message when she saw fit to reach out to him or use Moon as a proxy.

Moon. Mars. Pluto. He would never fully adjust to the new names given to them by his brother’s beloved Terra. Personally, he preferred his Cybertronian name, but he would never dare say as such aloud. Mortus didn’t care, and Fengari, his elder brother, would be prone to lash out if Mars ever voiced his objection to his new name. Not only that, but he wasn’t keen on making Terra upset. 

How many vorns had he been in orbit around the Unmaker and the life giving Titan who shielded him? It was hard to keep track without any citizens on his surface to constantly chatter to and about him.

Right. Citizens.

Being in his alternate mode, Mars was incapable of sighing as he wanted to. But as he took control over one of his drones and piloted it to the surface, he let the drone pause and linger on the view. Why had he lived while his wards died? It was not fair. He should have carried them until the very end, bringing them to salvation and away from the fires of Cybertron.

If only there hadn’t been plague. Maybe then he could at least have the chance to take on new citizens and ease the ache in his spark.

No, no. He couldn’t think like that. Contemplating such things almost always led to dark thoughts. It was not allowed. He had to stay calm and composed for Fengari. His poor brother was blind for Prima’s sake. Fengari lost his optics, his citizens, and his ability to take to the stars if he so desired in order to stay with Earth. Fengari suffered more. It was not Mars’s place to weep when he at least had remnants of his people upon his frame in the form of paintwork.

He still had them with him, in his spark and through the echoes they left upon his surface. Sweet Solus, many of their inner habitations were still untouched. He’d ensured it remained that way.

He still had relics. He had echos. He was fine. He had no reason to cry.

Right?

“Primus, our maker... we are so far from you. Can you hear us? Do our sparks still resonate with yours?” He spoke through his drone, letting his voice ring out with only a slight bit of static due to the corrosion of his vessel. He sighed as he received no answer, not that he really expected one. He stared though his drone in silence for a while, the quiet of the void all but deafening.

If he listened closely with his real body, he could hear the faint song of stars, the thrum of their very being radiating nearby. Earth’s Star had quite the pleasant melody. Enough for him to fall into recharge.

But he couldn’t allow that. If he slumbered, he may not wake. Instead, he endured the silence, the isolation. Perhaps Mortus would be kind enough to come and pay him a visit during one of his patrols. 

‘Mars? I have news.’

He stalled for a moment as waves of emotion crashed against him. Mars had to pause to translate the EM field communication he found himself assaulted with. Young Terra was not the most educated in matters of gentle or polite correspondence, but she could most certainly be heard.

‘Earth, it is  a pleasure to hear from you. What news do you have for me?’

He tried to keep his communication controlled and neutral. But as he sent back a response, he sensed something coming near to him. It had been heading in his direction for a while, but for the longest time he’d simply assumed it to be space debris. Looking more closely, it appeared to be some kind of device.

‘My children have created a drone of sorts. They are sending it to your surface to analyze you. Do not fear; the drone appears to be insignificant and designed purely for observation. I simply wished to warn you.’ 

Mars almost stiffened, but he forced himself to relax so that his surface would not shift as the thing drew closer. Without a second thought, he moved his drone as far from the potential landing site as he could get without losing track of this incoming drone that was apparently headed his way. He forgot to send a reply for a long while as he watched the thing draw ever nearer.

Earth’s humans were such deadly and destructive beings when they were left unchecked. Mars had witnessed the horrors himself when he watched them drop bombs all over poor Terra’s surface. Even now, the wounds still brought her pain from time to time. 

What would happen if her humans found him to be of use for some grand scheme? Would they harm him too? Mars was a Titan; he could survive if he had to. But he would rather not expose himself and, consequently, his kin to Earth’s destructive little scraplet farm. Why she loved them so dearly was beyond him.

‘Thank you for the warning.’ 

He eventually sent back curtly as he watched the drone finally land on his surface. It felt so very strange to have a new entity roaming his frame. Halley rarely landed, and when she did, her very frame eliminated warmth like a young star barely contained within living metal. This thing was cold, but not necessarily in a wicked sense. It seemed... almost like a protoform, yet lacking a spark. The emotions were familiar, the feeling of potential almost overwhelming.

Mars stared through his drone, his very spark flaring in its chamber as ancient desire rose within him. The drone was tiny, barely the size of the smallest newsparks that he had nurtured before the fires of Cybertron. And yet, as he looked upon the small wheeled entity roaming and prodding at rocks and pebbles like they were the most interesting thing on this side of the galaxy, Mars, or rather, Bellum’s spark, swelled with love.

The ache that had long burned within his core seared as he gazed upon the youth of the small thing roaming his surface. So small. So pure. So full of potential. 

Ancient coding sang within him, and before Bellum knew it, his drone moved just a bit closer, although still out of view. This one did not appear to be affected by the rust of his surface. It roamed freely, without a care in the world. Such innocence… Bellum needed to guard it.

Had Earth’s humans sent him this little gift out of kindness? No. They couldn’t have. They did not know he lived. And yet, he couldn’t help the way every part of his processors screamed at him to accept the offering. Such things were done for the sake of an alliance between Titans back on Cybertron. Old habits died hard, and Bellum could hardly contain himself as he fought the urge to have his drone snatch the Earth-born drone and drag it toward his core so he could connect to it intimately.

He couldn’t expose himself. Not yet. But Bellum was a patient being. Let the humans explore through their gift. His scans indicated that the poor drone wouldn’t last more than a few years without maintenance. He would wait until the humans abandoned it, and then, when all was done, he would finally have a chance to serve his purpose once more.

“Sweet little roamer, do not fear. You may not understand now, but soon, when your creators have let you fly away from them, I will take you under my wing.” He all but purred, keeping his vocalizations below the range of the drone as he observed it. 

“You will not know fear. You will suffer no illness. I will give you a spark, and when the time is right, I will make you into something more.” His spark flared in affection as the tiny Earth-born gathered rocks, observing and producing soft sounds of affirmation as it went. What a lovely voice it would have once Bellum granted it a spark. 

He could hardly wait.

‘Mars, are you in distress?’ 

Fengari, Moon, whatever designation he went by, sent a message that snapped Mars back to attention. Only after he refocused did he realize he’d been sending out waves upon waves of countless emotions in short, and likely unsetting bursts. His brother’s concerns made sense now.

‘I am perfectly fine, brother. In fact, I feel better than I have in millennia.’

Confusion met Mars’s response. He didn’t pay it much mind as he continued to observe the drone upon his surface. It was just so small. 

‘Let Terra know that so long as more of these drones are sent to me, she shall have my full allegiance.’ 

Shock met him this time, but Mars merely hummed. He had something to hope for now, and he had no intention of missing a single moment of his new firstborn’s life. He would have to get his visual images printed at some point for the little one to see once they developed mentally.

“Explore to your spark’s content, sweet roamer. I shall wait for you.” Mars felt his frame ease and a faint song escape his true vocalizer as he watched the small drone pick up a rock and stare at it.

Soon. Soon he would be a Sire again.

[flipchild]

iBeen doing laundry for several hours 😂

[brookxss]

Wanted to draw magical girl sojourn!!! I’ve seen a few videos discussing Blizzard never giving her a feminine skin so I wanted to give it a shot. It’s a bit messy so I apologize 😓

[bubbagumfloat]

i'm going to continue posting the little bits of reapjourn art i have in hopes of getting more people on board with it

[khesi]

that's a new face

[tired-old-men]

@psychoana16

Spectre takes out a photograph from a pocket hidden in the darkness of his robes. He takes a long look at it, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he admires it. With a bit of hesitance he shows you the photograph.  “…A very special moment for my wife and I…”

[wilderun]

“What if this bowl… had food in i? Wouldn’t that be something? Alas, I wouldn’t know what that’s like, being a poor starving baby puppy who’s never had a meal in my life”

[cooplagoop]

Need Jack Morrison to get a service dog🦮 or a therapy dog 🐕

There needs to be a pve mission with Jack that has no combat just him playing fetch and other cute minigames with a random stray dog he befriended while travelling with Ana and pretending he "don't like it at all 😤", but secretly he's super stoked cuz he's always wanted a dog.

3 hours later and he's looking at Ana like this 🥺

Ana says yes immediatelly cuz Jack has no mental health and this is the first time he's smiled all week

[rainyday-23]

Awwooga Vivian is so pretty (,,◕　⋏　◕,,)

[freyholland]

Watched 2 hours of Overwatch story mode on YouTube last night, so nobody better go near me until this radioactivity is out of my system

[roboticspacecraftkisser]

full of love tonight anyways can we hear it for sojourner. hiya little guy im love you

[the-whole-shebang]

THIS 1000000% AAAHHH ❤️

Overwatch characters when you tell them "I love you"

Ashe

Her face immediately breaks into a small as she wraps an arm around you and kiss your cheek

"Aww I love you too sweetheart"

For the rest of the day she's got a smile on her face as she replays your words in her head

Now expect to be told how much she loves you everyday

Sojourn

Gets the absolute softest look on her face

Just kinda stares at you with a loving look before she says it back

"I love you too. More than anything"

You've absolutely melted her heart and she's not mad about it

Also lots of forehead kisses over the next few days

Kiriko

She's absolutely beaming and covers your face in kisses

"You're gonna make me cry! Of course I love you too!"

She's practically got heart eyes when she looks at you

Whenever she's having a bad day she just remembers you saying that and starts smiling again

Genji

First of all, it's impossible that you said "I love you" first. But when you say it back? Heart attack

He hugs you and immediately takes off his helmet to kiss you

He gets a lot more affectionate after you say it back and it makes him so happy to know you love him too

Reaper

He freezes and just kinda goes silent for a little while

His heart is going way to fast and he doesn't know how to respond

Does he say it back? Does he wait? Should he kiss you?

Eventually, he just awkwardly nods and then proceeds to retreat to his room where he bangs his head against the wall

He might wait to say it back but after an hour of silence you'll get a single text from him

"I love you too"

Junkrat

He let's out the highest pitched squeal and tackles you in a hug

He'll start going on and on about how cute that was and about how much he loves you too so be prepared to be stuck in a hug for a couple minutes

Also every text he sends you after that moment is filled with heart emojis

"You're making me blush... aw of course I love you too❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️"

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(First Kiss Edition!)

(Not my picture!)

(I thought this song was perfect for this, I remember watching this in the movie theaters way back when, loved it and still do. The first time I saw a representation of some of my culture on that scale, such an underrated movie.)

- In any situation you guys are in, working together or having two different jobs? I don’t think it’d be a surprise when I say the first kiss happens very early into the relationship and they’re the one to initiate it.

- No coaxing or dancing around the subject, you’re getting kissed like three days into the relationship tops.

- If you guys work for Overwatch together, and y’all won a particularly rough mission after going back and forth with the enemy, emotions are high as the celebration of the triumph proceeds.

- It happens so suddenly, like you’re next to Venture, happy as a clam after putting your all into your fighting. Then, out of nowhere, you’re getting grabbed and pulled into a sudden and passionate kiss that leaves you stunned and flushed, silent as a church mouse when they pull away.

- You know that one scene in ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’ Where Roger kisses Detective Valiant as if his life depended on it? It’s along the lines of something like that.

- You probably said something like, “I could kiss you right now!” After they saved you from getting pulverized and in their mind they went “Bet”.

- Trust me, they’re also kind of surprised that they actually did it—

- Time freezes for a moment as y’all kissed cause the team to go silent before an uproar from the particularly positive teammates— Causing even more cheering, especially if you have someone like Reinhardt on the team, he’d hype you guys up so much.

- That or if you guys are archeologists or simply have different jobs from one another it’s more private and Sloane can try to convince you that it was on purpose. But in Overwatch? Fuck no lol.

- The whole roster was like 80% sure you guys were a thing, but that went up 1000% when Sloane kissed you as if they needed it to breathe.

- Spreads like wildfire and by the end of the day everyone knows you guys are a couple, and a rather cute one on top of that.

- At least you guys don’t have to tell everyone that you’re a thing now.

- It makes Venture a little sad. They were planning something big to announce it cause they felt like it needed to be as special as they think your guys’s relationship is. They were biting back the urge to brag about it for 72 hours (the longest time they’ve ever kept something like that to themselves besides their feelings before you guys were a thing), all for naught.

- Reassure them it isn't a big deal and that if they look at it from a different perspective, the first kiss was a great way of doing it.

- They’ll spring back up when you say that, saying something like “Oh I planned to do it like that anyways!”

- You know, like a liar.

- Besides that little hiccup, it was a great first kiss, they wouldn't have it any other way.

- As one might expect, everyone has different views on the matter, with the positive ones that are like “Aweee look at them go!” And think it’s cute: (Ana, D.Va, Junkrat; a mix between neutral but more positive nonetheless, Kiriko, Lucio, Lifeweaver, Illari, Mei, Mercy, Reinhardt, Sigma; same as Junkrat)

- Neutral, like, “Oh, cool, congrats Ig”: (Brigitte; a bit more positive but still neutral, Baptiste, Bastion, Cassidy, Echo, Genji, Hanzo, Junker Queen, Orisa, Symmetra, Torbjorn, Solider 76, Roadhog, Sombra, Sojourn, Winston, Zarya, and Zenyatta: same as Brigitte but a bit more happy)

- Then the negative, the “I don’t need to know about about that you keep that to yourself”: (Ashe, Doomfist, Moira; sassy about it, Mauga; He’s like an annoying older brother that is constantly trying to embarrass their younger sibling— That sibling rivalry between him and Venture is wildddd, Reaper, Ramattra; a bit more neutral, Wrecking Ball; Blunt and mean about it too lmao, Widowmaker; graduated with her master’s degree in the art of being a hater).

(FINALLY! On the last scheduled headcanon post! Yippeee! Hopefully I’ll now be able to get some requests from y’all now that I’m done with this last one!)

[mashiiiko]

☀️ sunset, waverider, and beachside sojourn concepts !! ✨

made some more skin concepts !!!! i love sojourn so much shes so gorgeous and deserves a cute summer games skin 🥰🥰

[vagabond-umlaut]

Sojourn In The Sun

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader; Arranged Marriage; Childhood Friendship To Complicated Feelings™️; Fluff; Angst; Canon-Compliant; Contains Manga Spoiler; Satoru & Reader Are So Cute, So Honest And So Kind-Of-Happy With Each Other Here– I Love Them!; Silly Jokes Are Their [& My] Coping Mechanism; Takes Place Between JJK 221 & 236.

Oneshot From Series: One Day, Three Autumns

"You. Baked. This. For. Me."

"No, Satoru. A stork flew in through ths kitchen window and dropped this bloody cake on that table."

"But don't they deliver babies or something? Plus, isn't that window a tad too tiny for such a big bird?"

"I guess, the stork must've dropped you on your head while delivering you to your parents, you know?"

A beat passes in response to your remark, before Satoru erupts into a fit of chortles and you shake your head with a huffed chuckle. Getting up from where you were hunched over the countertop, nibbling on an omelette and scrolling through your mobile, Satoru watches your face gleam in fondness in the late morning light, as you amble over to him.

Very messy hair. Ratty old clothes. Sleepy yet shiny eyes— His cheeks hurt from the sheer joy bubbling in his chest at this sight before him.

"Seriously, sweetness? Storks?" he asks, lifting his arm then dropping it to wrap round your shoulders as you reach him and snuggle into his side – only to catch hold of the hem of his huge sweater, and squeeze yourself into it, your tiny fingers clasping round his back as your head emerges at the top and you move to nuzzle into his neck, teeth biting cute little nips on the skin there.

If it was even two months back, Satoru reckons he would have been a hell lot stunned, seeing you give your affections so blatantly– that too at a place outside your shared bed, outside the darkness of the night.

But... It no longer is two months back. It is now. Not only in day, date, time. But also in the irreversibly mutated fashion the earth rotates on its axis everyday in the man's eyes. New experiences. New allies. New absences. New nightmares...— Everything's different from how it was before that chilly October night— Your husband deems it to be not an awful lot strange to see you too like this. The world is not the same as before; to survive, you too must change to adapt to the change, must you not?

Lips brushing your forehead once before dashing away, he asks in a soft yet humorous tone, "Too tired to give a reply, are we now, huh?"

"Not really," you hum, your words punctuated by a yawn you're quick to suppress; you resume, "I know only two birds which are said to be used in sending parcels and stuff. One, messenger pigeon– but they are too small to carry a cake like that. Two, stork– stories do say they were used to deliver babies – so I thought delivering a cake would be a piece of cake for them, heh!" You shoot him a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners into lovely half-moons, "Pretty funny and punny, ain't I?"

"Of course, sweetness. You are all three," Satoru is quick to agree with a nod— happy wife = happy life; plus, it's not like he's lying to you— A shadow of confusion falls on your face— Deciding to deal with it later, for the sake of the question weighing on his mind at the moment, the man repeats his ask from earlier, "You really really baked this for me?"

You return a nod, hints of a smile lurking in the shape of your lips.

"But why?"

Whatever happiness might've beginning to bloom on your features, it withers away– Your husband smacks himself internally for employing such a tone: So weak, so much so that it makes you peer up at him in concern he has only ever seen on you after a particularly bad mission.

So weak, so that it makes him hope you don't think him to be any less than 'The Strongest'— any less than being capable of standing beside you, protecting you, being worthy of you.

A pair of chapped lips plant themselves on his cheek. "Just because I wanted to bake a cake for you, 'Toru!" you explain with a giggle, albeit its subdued quality doesn't go past his eye, as you move a bit away to press a swift kiss on his other cheek; fingers drawing lazy patterns on his scalp and massaging the roots of his hair.

"You've always done too much for me and everyone else– Thought of returning the favour once, although I doubt it can ever match yours... Also, haven't you always wanted to eat a cake baked by yours truly?"

He has.

He so, so has.

Ever since the day you baked some muffins for him in the microwave oven of the school kitchen– him, a grumbling mess thanks to his all-too-familiar migraine and those old geezers– you, another grumbling mess thanks to your all-too-familiar insomnia and those annoying AF exams—

Satoru never imagined he could taste a sweet dish made by you ever again in his life, for the past ten years or so— given how the morning after that night you declared you would never bake again: "uff, that is too fuckin' tiring and boring!" and how every next time he came with a migraine to your door, you pointedly ignored his whining for you to bake him something, choosing to grab the warm and cold compress instead and give him a massage, following the manuals kept in stack-over-stack on your table—

Even during his teenage years, then later as an adult, the sorcerer has always missed your baking, but seeing you care for him in ways much too characteristically 'you'... he decided to pay no mind to such dumb wishes, he knows you'll never fulfill in this lifetime.

Except now you've fulfilled them and your husband doesn't know any response fitting enough to thank your efforts and thoughts through.

Throwing the cake a sideways glance, he brings his focus back to you gazing at him, to the eagerness reflecting in your irises. His lips tilt up into a smile, obeying a mind of their own.

"Blue velvet cake with white frosting... you sure do know how to make me happy, don't you, sweetness?" he muses out loud, carefully noting the warmth creeping up your neck into your cheeks and ears, "But, so much for a thanks... there must be another reason behind this, right?"

Feeling the tiny burst of air hitting him from your quiet exhale, Satoru lets you maneuver him towards the kitchen until he's leaning with his back against the marble island and you're nestling even closer to him.

A palm glides cautiously over the planes of his back.

Almost as if the man in front of you is a glass figurine–

Almost as if you're fine with him being a glass figurine.

So easy to read.

So easy to hurt.

So easy to care for with the gentlest of touches and softest of smiles, the look in your eyes tells every one of his six eyes– the innumerable chips and cracks in his very essence be damned—

You poke his cheek, a knowing twitch in your lips.

"You rarely ever cuddled me in bed before, yet now, every single night and day, I find you squeezing me with those arms and legs of yours..." Satoru's eyes widen. Your lips part in a fondly teasing grin. "Think why – really why– you hug me for warmth and don't hog the blankets; and you'll have your answer, 'Toru."

Birds shriek outside. Your mobile beeps thrice. Your omelette goes as frozen as poor Uranus on the countertop beside.

For the second time this cold day, the two of you break into laughter.

"And you'll have your answer, 'Toru!?!?" Satoru mimics you except in a soprano-esque shrill voice. "Who the fuck do you think we are, huh? A pair of lovers in some Shakespeare-y play, baring our feelings to each other in the soft glow of the winter sun, or some stupid shit like that?"

Another chuckle breaks free from your chest at his words; the grin on his face widening, he watches you take a long breath then say, "Nope nope nope! The both of us are way too uncivilised to play any role like in Shakespeare's plays — but Satoru~" you drawl your vowels out; his heart beats a little faster in his chest– "I can never be as unrefined as you, going as far as to keep your wife waiting, while you ask question after question– and not eat the cake and praise it, like a good spouse should, you know?"

"Oh, is it so?" The man inquires, brow raised, before warping with you in his arms to where the cake's kept, and cutting a big chunk with the knife kept, gobbles it all up in one go.

The tilt of your lips betrays the disapproving click your tongue makes.

A very content hum escapes Satoru. "Your baking's something out of this world–no, galaxy, sweetness. I hope you know–"

He stills, focus stolen by the letters and number a bit far on the table–

Satoru's gaze snaps back to you, only to find the same smile on your face– so simple, so devious– complicated and thwarted by the small expressive tremor of your lips; your gaze moving away from him to a calendar on your left and his right, the very same which stopped him—

Grasping your chin in his frosting-covered fingers, he drags your gaze back to himself, tutting, "You aren't any better than me, wifey. You too lack the same manners and etiquettes I do— So, now— c'mon, c'mon, c'mon–" he says, not unlike a broken record, playing the same section of music until he makes you cave in from the annoyance alone, "Wish your darling husband 'Happy Birthday 'Toru!!', give him a big birthday smooch, and be the courteous wife, you aren't really, but think you're— Now, go ahead, go ahead, go–"

"No."

"No?" Satoru echoes, holding back a weary chuckle. Or sigh. The man doesn't know which. You nod with that same stubborn determination of yours, he has happened to love-hate-tolerate over the years. "Yeah. No. I don't wanna. Wishing you can only solidify the fact that today is December 7th–"

"I think, the clock striking twelve few hours back solidified it–"

"Which will go on to cement the fact we're only 17 days away–"

"I don't think the fact needs any cementing. It's cast in stone–"

"Is there no way we can be happy, Satoru?"

Your question startles him into a momentary stun – not 'cause of the solemnity packed into every word of it – but because it serves as the mirror image to the question them cursed voices in his brain ask him in the warmth of the day, in the chill of the night, when he finds Yuuji sitting by himself with no spiky black hair nor bright orange hair next to him; when he catches the ashtray on Shoko's table filled with way too many cigarette stubs; when he wakes up to see you sitting in the dimly lit storeroom, a faded photograph or a childish drawing in your hand; when he looks at the mirror and finds the reason behind every pain his cherished ones have suffered, staring right back at him—

"There is," Satoru says, willing his mind to shut up for once, to let him say what he wants to say for once– the clock is ticking a bit too fast–

"Don't think of today as anything more than that it's December 7. Not how many days it's been since Halloween. Not how many days it'll be before it's Christmas Eve. Just focus on the fact it's my birthday, and everything will seem a hell lot better, even if it's only for a short time."

You peer at him attentively, before narrowing your eyes a bit. "Never took you as the kind to ignore reality, y'know?"

Your husband cracks an amused grin. "Still, standing in the middle of a warzone and actively ignoring it is cooler than running away from it, isn't it?"

"Cooler and dumber," you correct with a teasing grin and a waggle of your finger– however, before he can gather any retort to your remark, he finds himself being pulled down by his collar, his lips colliding with your waiting ones— the ensuing kiss a little sweet, a little spicy, a little shy, a little hungry; but overall, very, very addicting. Satoru thinks you can never give him kisses enough to satiate him, even for a tiny while.

He is always going to stay this ravenous, this yearning for you. In this lifetime and every other that follows. He can't ever get enough of you.

A tiny pop! reverberates in the bubble round you two, as your mouth gently separates from his, though never strays anywhere far, resting only few millimetres away. Eyes drifting to his swollen lips for a beat, Satoru watches you look at him again, cheeks heated and stretched in a smile.

"Happy birthday, Satoru," you whisper, "Many, many happy returns of the day."

"Thanks," the man mumbles, running a careful thumb back-and-forth over your bottom lip– before something clicks to life in his mind. Your husband registers a slow smirk form on his face. "But I guess it'll be a happier birthday if ya promise to bake me a cake every now and then. What do you think, sweetness?"

"Nah!" your reply arrives, as if it's a reflex response and not one which requires some thinking, "Baking's too fuckin' tiring and boring– But..." you trail off for a beat, the nonchalance on your face morphing into a tenderness– You resume, "Why don't you try and find out by yourself if I will ever decide to bake a cake for you, every now and then, yeah?"

The weight of your words lingers in the gap in between for a second.

Accepting the weight with an eager grin, Satoru closes the gap, him inclining forwards to rest his forehead on yours.

"Sounds like a challenge, sweetness. Good thing, I'm more than ready to try my best to meet it."

I do not own the characters used. Divider is by @cafekitsune. Please do not plagiarize or translate or repost this. Hope you enjoyed reading this! 😊

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Masterlist

[thewickedspinster]

Death of the Fighter (Ruhn Danaan x Reader)

warnings: language, fluff, nothing else

a/n: had a glass of wine and wrote this. just cute ruhn fluff ig.

You'd thought things could not possibly go worse.

You'd been wrong.

Your month-long deployment with the Aux to the Eternal City had been one fucking disaster after another. Between Celestina breathing down your neck, the rebels trying to kill you at every given opportunity, and the Asteri glowering down from their thrones each morning as you briefed them, you weren't sure how much more your frayed nerves could take.

It wasn't supposed to be that difficult. When Naomi had pitched it to you - a month-long sojourn across the sea to root out a violent criminal cell operating in some of the most inaccessible holes in the city - you'd thought it would be a decent trip. You were known for tracking criminals, terrorists, and monsters; your magic had been honed for it, and your ability to fight was renowned, earning you a place high in the ranks of the Aux. Cake walk, right?

Nope.

This was Celestina's first task as Governor of Lunathion; to send the city's best to aid an issue that had grown out of control across the sea. And to do it entirely under the radar, so the people would never know that the Asteri were struggling to control crime in their own city.

In your first few days, however, you realized that the conspiracy ran deeper than you'd ever thought; the criminal underground was deeply connected to the city's elite. Through a convoluted web of connections, it was also linked to the rebels, who were using funds earned on the black market to fund their violent activities in the north.

Basically, without back-up, you were fucked. And Celestina flat-out refused to send more than Naomi for help, paranoid that the Asteri would punish her for it.

Much worse than punishing the Governor, Sirius decided to send his Hammer to your aid. As one would assume, someone dubbed "The Hammer" is not exactly the most covert individual. Besides that, he was a complete alphahole, and in more serious ways than you had experienced in quite some time.

His advances were bold and aggressive. You'd earned a reputation in Lunathion for your own violent attitude towards unwanted males, but clearly, Pollux Antonius didn't give two fucks about your reputation. Or what you wanted. And it was getting out of hand - the taunts, the suggestive language, the misogyny. The groping.

Unfortunately, punching him in the face for it was a death wish. You'd done it; one time, you had struck him for his hand wandering to your ass, and you had paid the price for it.

All this, and now, you were cornered in an alley, about to fight your way out of a group of these criminals you were trying to hunt down. Tonight was meant to be the last raid; the one that would take out their leader and blow up their main holdfast. You were in a far southern part of the Eternal City, far from the view of the Asteri, and thank Cthona that was the case, because you were cursing them straight to Hel for getting you into this.

"This is stupid," you panted to Naomi, drawing your weapons. "I'm never leaving Valbara again."

"You and me both," she muttered. "These fuckers are so annoying, like roaches."

"Rats," you agreed. You spoke louder, so they could hear you. They jeered from behind their gilded masks. "Too scared to show your faces. Sad."

You and Naomi had been fighting together for decades. When you struck, it was in unison, with fluid, fatal precision. Within minutes, you had worked through a dozen of them, but they continued to flow into the alley. If you could just get past them, you could round the corner and drop the dirty bomb into the grate above their headquarters. It would be too easy, too simple.

Then, lo and behold, the angelic motherfucker himself slammed into the narrow space from above, splitting the crowd and crushing one unfortunate soul's trachea beneath his boot. The Hammer fell, and the goons went scattering.

Unfortunately, his landing had been so violent that debris went exploding outward from the ground around him, sending a broken bit of stone straight at your head. It struck you, blinding you momentarily with the force. When your awareness returned to you, your enemies were gone, but the bomb had flung from your tac belt. You squinted across the narrow space between the buildings, and you had a split second to experience the horror of seeing the pulled pin lying on the ground next to you before everything went white, then soundless, then black.

~~~

The infirmary was quiet, aside from a gentle beeping. You had been awake some time, staring at the wall. It was far too sterile in here, and it made your head pound worse than it already did.

You wanted to be home.

Thank Urd, you had been taken straight back to Valbara after the Hammer nearly killed you. You wouldn't have been able to stand the thought of him being on the same continent as you for a second longer. You were convinced he'd done it on purpose. And even if he hadn't, he'd sure as hell been smug about the whole incident when reporting to the Asteri, according to Naomi. She had, somehow, escaped the blast mostly unscathed, aside from some shrapnel-related injuries. She had been handling the fallout back in the Eternal City, and though you felt somewhat bad about it, you were too exhausted to really care.

When word had gotten back to Celestina about your critical injury, she had summoned the only healer she knew she could trust - Hypaxia. Your half-sister.

You and Hypaxia had been close since she abandoned her people. Your people, you supposed, but the witches had never cared to claim you as Hecuba's daughter. When you began showing signs of precocious power at thirteen, they had come knocking, but you denied them your membership in their legions. You belonged to Blood and Earth, and that was final.

She healed you with care, and with commitment to your desire for secrecy. You wanted no one to see you, no one to even know you were back in the city. For all intents and purposed, you were still on-mission across the sea.

In truth, you couldn't yet face the pity that the boys would surely greet you with, much less the anger that would erupt from Ruhn Danaan when he discovered just what had delayed your return home. Dec, Tristan, and Ruhn had been your roommates for years, and they were unequivocally your best friends. And their reactions to this incident would be... devastating.

But now, it was almost impossible to push the homecoming off any longer. Your sister had healed you, and you looked as good as you ever would again.

"You should get going, before they start partying for the night." Hypaxia's gentle voice came from the doorway. I sat, fully dressed and ready to go, but unable to stand up. "You know they'll want to see you."

"I know they will," you grumbled. "I just am so not ready to deal with them."

"It's not so bad, truly, (Y/N)." She entered the room and went about undoing the IV drip, unclipping the heart monitors. "You have new scars, yes, but those have never bothered you."

"Their reactions are what worry me." You rubbed at your face self-consciously, the burns and pockmarks smarting beneath your fingers. They covered the right half of your face, twisting the flesh and mottling it dark. "They'll be pissed."

"They have a right to be. I'm pissed too."

"Yeah, well, get in line, folks." You sighed, eyes downcast. "I don't know why. Just... the thought of their anger makes me so nervous. I don't know if I can deal with that."

When you glanced up, uncertain, you saw Hypaxia's expression soften. "I can warn them, if you think it would help."

You swallowed. You'd never had this problem before. Maybe you were vain and that was it; you'd come home with injuries plenty of times. But this time... it just felt too real. Too close to death, too close to a hatred that Ruhn already nursed.

And, in truth, you wanted his softness, not his fury. You just wanted him.

You took a deep breath, and nodded. "I think that might be good."

Hypaxia gave a nod, peeling off her gloves. "Right then, let's go."

She grasped your hands and helped you upright. After two weeks of intensive healing, you were able to walk with barely a limp. Still, you didn't know how long it would be until you could report back for duty. The thought also made you quail.

The ride in the cab across the city to the house was quiet. Your sister did not let go of your hand once, and you held tightly to her. Things didn't need to be spoken; you were grateful to have each other, and though this one had been a close thing, she was thanking Urd that you were still alive. You'd spent far too long apart to squander a single moment together.

When the taxi pulled up to the house, you were relieved to find it still quiet, despite the setting sun and the Friday night. Usually, the boys partied hard on the weekends, mirthroot and booze and harder things included. Sometimes, you enjoyed mingling. Others, you went to bed early. The boys respected it either way, and loved you the same.

They must have been tracking your phone, for when the car stopped, the front door swung open, and the three males came spilling out of the house, Ruhn bringing up the rear. They were shoving each other around, not expecting what was about to greet them.

Hypaxia squeezed your hand, caught your eye, and then ducked out of the car, leaving you in a moment's silence. You saw Ruhn draw up short when it was her, not you, who appeared, and you saw their expressions drop as Hypaxia explained your condition.

You took a deep breath, blew it out, and stepped out your own side of the car, rising to face them over the top of it.

Declan was shocked, his eyes wide and mouth open. Tristan's voice was getting louder as he demanded answers from Hypaxia. And Ruhn... he was looking straight at you, vibrant eyes searching. And he wasn't calm. The rage was palpable, like ice against your skin. You schooled yourself into stepping around the car, expression neutral, shoulders straight.

Tristan fell quiet when he noticed you, coming to stand beside your sister. With a short chuckle, you said, "Reckon I have the coolest scar now, losers."

In an instant, they were crowded around you, Tristan crushing you to his chest. Dec wrapped an arm around the both of you, keeping you close.

"Love you, sunshine," one of them whispered.

Tears sprung to your eyes, unbidden. "Love you too, boys."

When they let you go, Ruhn hadn't moved from the spot. Cautiously, you turned, embraced your sister, and let Dec and Flynn guide you up the walk. They talked quietly while they lifted your jacket from your shoulders and moved into the living room, offering you a drink or a smoke or a water. They babbled about how they'd been planning on throwing a party, but that now they weren't in the mood.

Eventually, though you had managed a couple of quiet answers, they got too involved in bickering about whether they should bake cookies or just heat up some pizza. You hadn't sat down, still waiting with more than half your attention for Ruhn.

He startled you so badly you yelped. He just appeared beside you. Then, he took your hand and led you from the living room, up the stairs. The sounds of the other two arguing faded as the door to his room shut behind the two of you.

You stared at him in the low light. He stared at you.

Uncertainty.

"Ruhn?"

"I will rip out his throat."

The statement startled you, though it shouldn't have. You'd seen it coming from a mile away. But the way it had been delivered, in a snarl you hardly recognized from the male you called your best... everything... Well, it was shocking.

"Ruhn," you whispered. "Please, don't."

"How can I not?" He demanded loudly. You winced. Your head began to pound once more. "He nearly killed you, (Y/N)."

"He's not worth our breath."

"He could have ripped you from me in an instant. And he wouldn't have even cared."

"But I'm here, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're fine." He thrust an accusing finger at you. "You're not fine."

"You don't get to tell me whether I'm fine or not," you snapped back, heat flaring to life. "I don't need this shit from you, Ruhn. Not now."

He paused.

"I just need-" You pressed a fist to your chest, trying to knead the pressure away. "This is precisely why I didn't want to come home, and I just need-"

"What?" His entire demeanor had changed in an instant from accusing to worried, brows furrowed and frowning.

You could hardly produce a sentence. Your breath was coming too fast, and tears made your throat swell. Panicked, you tried to push past him, to sidestep him and make it to the door. But he blocked your attempts, finally taking you by the elbows.

You managed a half-whimper of his name before he took you in his arms properly, pulling you in close.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he murmured into your hair. "I'm so sorry, shh, I've got you."

You sank into him, giving yourself the grace to accept this. He was warm, and his shirt was soft, and he smelled like he always had - gunpowder, faint vetiver cologne that had been applied that morning, and soft, sweet mirthroot. And he held you like you actually meant something.

It felt pathetic to let someone else to give you meaning. But gods, did it have a way of molding you whole.

"I don't want to fight anymore," you whispered into his tear-stained chest. "I'm so sick of all this bullshit. I'm so sick of hurting."

"You're so strong," he whispered back. "And you don't have to fight anymore. You can do whatever you want."

You sniffled, sliding your hands under his shirt, feeling the life beneath.

"Who am I if not that?"

Ruhn smiled, pulling back to cradle your face in his palms. His gaze was full of fondness, of pride, his earlier fury gone without a trace. "Whatever you want to be. Anything. Everything."

He pressed his lips to your brow, tracing new scars and old.

"I'll be right here the whole way."