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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ (ραrк sєσทgнωα) rατє∂

ραiriทg: αℓiєท! ραrк sєσทgнωα (ατєєʑ)× нυмαท! rєα∂єr (ƒємαℓє)

gєทrє: αทgsτ, ƒℓυƒƒ, sмυτ, ∂ysτσρiαท/ sci-ƒi/ ƒαทταsy αυ

sυммαry: ωнєท τнєy cαмє αท∂ iทvα∂є∂ τнєir ρℓαทєτ, нυмαทiτy ∂єscєท∂є∂ iทτσ cнασs αท∂ iทsαทiτy, нυทτiทg τнєм ∂σωท αท∂ vσωiทg τσ rєταкє τнєir нσмє. нσωєvєr, y/ท ∂σєsท'τ вєℓiєvє τнєy αrє ∂αทgєrσυs, ทστ αƒτєr sєєiทg σทє υρ cℓσsє αท∂ ρєrsσทαℓ.

ωσr∂ cσυทτ: 5к+

ωαrทiทgs: ∂ysτσρiαท sσciєτy, viσℓєทcє, αℓℓυsiσทs τσ ∂єατн, мαss ∂єsτrυcτiσท, єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ вєiทgs, sℓigнτ нyρทστisм, кiทєτic ρσωєrs, sυρєrทατυrαℓ scєทєs, sєxυαℓ scєทєs iทcℓυ∂iทg вriєƒ вrєαsτ ρℓαy, ƒiทgєriทg, αท∂ υทρrστєcτє∂ sσƒτ, vαทiℓℓα iทτєrcσυrsє (αℓωαys υsє ρrστєcτiσท єvєท iƒ yσυ'rє ƒυcкiทg αท є.τ).

iทsρirατiσท: є.τ вy кατy ρєrry

ταgℓisτ: @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @brie02 @a-soft-hornytiny @deja-vux @rvse-miingi @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki

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The world forever remembered the day when the sun suddenly went dark when it wasn't even close to being evening yet. The darkness that shrouded the city made them anxious, which then turned to fear when shining beams of light suddenly passed through the sky and fell onto various parts of the earth. At first they thought they were shooting stars or even asteroids that were there to destroy the planet. But alas, masses of rock from space don't have a perfectly oval shape and neither do they have blinking lights covering most of the base. And they certainly don't have strange beings coming out of them. When humanity saw the otherworldly creatures, they immediately went into panic, running for their lives, not wanting to find out or not if they were intelligent, friendly or were cold blooded killers. They simply shut themselves away, causing chaos amongst their land and hurting each other more than anything else.

Y/N definitely remembered that day but for different reasons. At the time, she was in the outskirts of the city, perched on top of a tree as she usually did to escape the bustling city life she was used to. Half daydreaming and half asleep, her leg swung idly as the warmth of the sun casted down on her face. She was jolted fully awake when something like thunder resonated from the heavens, her eyes immediately finding her surroundings to be pitch black. She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust her sight. A colossal spaceship landed near where she was, causing the earth to shake and she let out a piercing scream when she tumbled down from the tree, her knee getting scraped in the fall.

She let out a pained groan as she tried to get back up, but her legs gave out from how badly she was hurting. Looking up, her eyes went wide when a door opened from the ship, cold smoke blasting out and some of it reaching where she was, making her cough softly. She held her breath when several figures started pouring out of the ship, all of them scattering towards different directions. They all donned the same white uniform, their faces covered by a gaiter styled face covering in the same color. When one of them started nearing where she was, her feet scrambled to get up and hide. Only managing to take two steps before she tripped once more, the extraterrestrial turned his head in the direction of the sound and proceeded to go investigate.

Realizing that she had been caught, Y/N gripped onto the trunk of the tree, nails scraping so harshly that she felt blood trickling down. Finally able to stand upright, she turned once more to run but was stopped when two hands slammed against the tree, trapping her in place. The poor girl trembled in fear as two cold eyes looked straight at her. Scanning her body, the being's eyes took in her damaged knee, blood pouring out as some of the skin and tissue was badly torn off. Getting down on one knee, the being took off one its gloves that covered its hand before reaching out to press against her wound. Y/N flinched when they made contact with her scrape and nearly kicked them away but when a purple light emanated from their hand she stood still to see what would happen. When the otherworldly creature pulled its hand away, she was in shock when she saw that her knee was completely healed, not a scratch as if nothing had happened, as if she didn't suffer a nasty fall.

"How...how did you..?" She whipped her head towards the person or non-person in front of her, had gotten up and was slowly creeping their body closer to hers.

The being murmured out some words in a language she did not recognize, and she knew it wasn't just caused by the covering around their face. She gasped sharply when they suddenly pressed her back onto the tree, hands firmly keeping her in place. Once establishing that she would not run away anytime soon, the extraterrestrial lifted one hand up and pulled its covering off. Y/N was speechless as she gazed up into the most beautiful and perfect face she had ever seen. The being's face seemed to be perfectly sculpted to perfection by gods themselves. Blade straight nose, chiseled jawline and sharp angled eyes perfectly complimented each other and distinguished them as someone not from her world.

Before she could even comprehend what they were doing, she felt their hands cup her cheeks as they pressed their pink and soft lips against her own. When she tried to pull away, the creature only clung her tighter to them, their kiss becoming more forceful, tongue dipping inside her mouth which had her moaning. It seemed the extraterrestrial noticed the effect they were having on her since she could feel them smirking against her lips, and indeed they were still smirking when they pulled away and looked back at her. They curiously studied her face, as if they were trying to figure out something.

"Y/N? Is it?"

She was startled when she heard them say something she understood and even more so that they knew her name.

"You actually....speak my language?" She asked them.

The extraterrestrial chuckled softly.

"I do now."

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8 months had passed ever since the aliens first invaded the world, and things only went from bad to worse. The government fell in the hands of civilians who decided to take control after they failed in not only giving them answers but in failing to drive the intruders away. Without a proper leader to govern them, the people just ran rampant through the streets, criminal activity and violence escalating each day that passed. The only real form of leadership or organization that still was existed was the Resistance force, a group of individuals who had gathered together to fight off all the aliens, which always resulted in unnecessary attacks and bloodshed. And unfortunately for Y/N, her own father was one of the ones leading that force.

She shook her head everytime she watched him and all the other people march off in search of extraterrestrials, hoping to demolish them once and for all. Every time they went out, very few returned, but that wasn't the part that worried her.

What worried her was imagining if her friend was one of the few extraterrestrials that had been taken down, because as she'd learn, they were definitely capable of being killed. She let out a sigh and closed the blinds of the kitchen window to continue her task of washing dishes. It seemed that was her life from now on, attending to the house while her dad was away fighting off beings who were actually harmless as she soon learned. But of course, she could never say anything about it, one because no one would believe her given how brainwashed and unreceptive they were and two, which was the most important one, she had promised her otherworldly friend not to spill anything about the mission they were currently carrying out and she intended to keep that promise.

"Aliens! They're here!"

Hearing the frantic commotion outside that was followed by a loud blaring of sirens and shotguns being fired, Y/N ducked and stayed away from any windows or any glass. She slowly crawled her way out the door and went outside, as stupid as it was but whenever there was an attack such as these ones, she always went out to ensure no child was wandering the streets and accidentally got caught in the action. She didn't care that she was risking her own life in doing so.

She carefully ran through alleys, taking cover behind walls or dropping to the ground when she heard shots being fired. It had become a lot easier for her now than it was in the beginning. Peeking her head out, she was relieved to see that most of the civilians had already cleared themselves out. But her relieve was short lived when she saw a white uniformed figure fall in the middle of the street, their hand clutching their left side which was stained blue, clear indication they were seriously wounded. Even with their face covered, she recognized their eyes right away.

"Seonghwa." She whispered softly, panic rising in her when she heard more shots being fired in his direction.

Looking at the other side, her face paled when she saw that it was none other than her own dad who was pursuing him, gun in his hand as he reloaded bullets in them. She looked back towards Seonghwa, who was trying to desperately heal himself faster, but was running out of time. With her dad getting closer and aiming his gun right at him, Y/N didn't even think and bolted out of her hiding place, heading straight towards her father.

"Dad don't!" She exclaimed as she tipped over his gun, causing him to shoot instead towards the opposite direction. Both of them hit the pavement with the strength she used to make sure he didn't hurt her friend.

"Y/N! Get off me!" Her father grunted as he shoved her off his body. Grabbing a hold of his gun once more, he made way to aim once more at his enemy but unfortunately he was too late. When he looked back, he was surrounded by two other extraterrestrials, one of them holding a small device that he threw onto the ground which helped them teleport out of there instantly, leaving behind nothing but a faint cloud of smoke.

Livid at having his prey taken away from his hands, he turned his attention back to his daughter who was barely standing up. When she lifted her head up, she was instantly struck back to the floor as the brute force of her father's fist against her face knocked her down.

"You stupid bitch! You let them get away!"

Each kick laid against her stomach was felt not only by her but by the extraterrestrial being that had connected his mind with hers. From miles away, inside one of the space crafts, he cried out in pain and clutched his abdomen as he felt each and every one of the violent acts laid on her body. With raging and glowing eyes, he pulled off all the wires and needles connected to his body and stormed out of the room, ignoring the protests coming out of the medical team that was tending to his wounds.

"Seonghwa! Stop! You're not healed yet!" One of his comrades tried to stop him.

"I don't care Hongjoong! Y/N is in trouble and I need to save her!" He tried to pry off the other male's fingers off him.

"You can't go! It's too risky. You'll get caught." He tried to reason with Seonghwa.

"If I don't go she could die! She saved me and now I must go save her!"

Having left with no other choice, Hongjoong used his supernatural strength to pin his friend to the wall, keeping him locked in there with no way to escape.

"Yes you must, but now is not the time! You're hurt, if you go now you'll only get yourself killed and then what will happen to her?"

Seonghwa's lip quivered in rage and hurt. He was unable to speak let alone move. He looked down at the floor and wept softly, his mind filled with images of her bruised and bloodied body in agony and pain after the beating she just endured. He knew in such a state, he couldn't even contact her telepathically.

"There's only a few more days until we have to leave back to the home planet. Our mission will be completed and if you still want..... you can take her back with you."

Seonghwa whipped his head up at Hongjoong's words, but before he could get his hopes up, Hongjoong raised a hand.

"Only if she wants to. You can't force, hypnotize nor abduct her. Am I clear?"

Seonghwa immediately nodded.

"Yes Hongjoong."

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Y/N laid in her bed, body still sore even though 2 days had already passed since that awful day. Her sides would ache if she put too much strain on them, but at least she was finally able to walk again. What she really wanted to know was how Seonghwa was doing. Was he all right? Was he too injured? Did he make it? Or did he..?

She pulled her blanket over her face to keep herself from thinking such things. She only wished he'd talk to her like he usually did at night. It was funny considering the first time she heard his voice in her head she was beyond freaked out, but now she had grown accustomed to it, sometimes even scolding him for bugging her so much.

"Are you awake?"

She couldn't keep the smile of her face as she finally heard his voice after so long. But wanting to play it cool, she forced a huff out of her mouth.

"I am now no thanks to you weirdo." She responded, her voice sounding grumpy and making Seonghwa chuckle.

"You know I'm not that knowledgeable with your language yet, so I'm not sure what that word means, but I'm deducing it's not a compliment." He asserted.

"How can you still not know what some words mean? Didn't you suck the language out of me when you slipped your tongue inside my mouth months ago? Wasn't that enough?" She chastised him, yet her cheeks flushed pink as she recalled the first time they met and he greeted her with a kiss, which she ended up finding out was a method his kind employed to be able to understand and talk to beings that spoke differently from them.

"We only grasp the basics, our abilities only stretch so far." He calmly explained.

Y/N sat up and tugged at different ends of her blanket.

"Does that mean you've gone around on other planets kissing other people?" She questioned him, her voice tinted with a hint of jealousy at the thought of Seonghwa kissing someone else.

"I may have kissed other kinds, but I can assure you that you're the only one I've used tongue with." He smirked to himself as he read her thoughts.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" She felt bitter knowing he had indeed gone around kissing other people.

"Well no... but that little action helped create the mind link with you. Lip to lip contact with another creature helps us communicate with them, adding tongue is a way to communicate and connect telepathically with the individual. Hence why I have been talking to you and vice versa without having to utter a single word. That and I can see what's going on in that tiny head of yours." He finished with a suspicious snort that unsettled her.

"Does that mean... you've been reading my thoughts all these months?" She fidgeted nervously.

"Some, not all. Although I've accidentally stumbled upon some that are rather..... interesting if you ask me."

Y/N whined as she slumped her face into her pillow and let out a high pitched scream. She felt so embarrased knowing he probably knew some of the explicit thoughts she's had at times that involved him.

"Do me a favor and take one of your laser guns and just vaporize me out of this world." She begged him.

"I'm afraid protocol doesn't allow me to vaporize any individuals without proper cause. So you're stuck with knowing that I know that you want me to-"

"Ok stop! Please don't finish that sentence and pretend like what you saw in my head wasn't real." She sighed.

"As you wish."

Seonghwa stayed quiet for a while, biting his lower lip as he pondered about how to approach his next subject. He knew it was now or never.

"Hey Y/N?" He asked softly.

"Yeah?" She responded.

"Can you..... do you think you could meet me in the place we first met?"

Y/N looked out her window and saw that it was past the curfew established by the Resistance, no doubt most of them standing guard at every street and corner, making sure everyone stayed indoors while keeping watch.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get out without being caught."

"I thought just as much."

Before she knew it, Seonghwa appeared right in front of her bed, making her shriek as she pulled her blanket to cover body up. She was about to ask him what was going on, but he was faster as he took hold of her wrist before transporting them both in the outskirts of the city in the blink of an eye. Y/N cowered and shivered when she felt the night breeze blow, her arms wrapping around herself since she had gone to bed wearing nothing but black panties and a flimsy white tank top that left little to the imagination for anyone who saw her chest. And seeing the extraterrestrial looking intently at her, she knew he was taking in her state of near undress.

"Please tell me you don't have laser vision that let's you see under my clothes." She squinted at him.

"Some of my kind do posses that ability, but I'm not one of them....." Stepping closer to her, he tilted her chin up and grinned smugly.

"Unfortunately."

"Why you little perv-" She was cut off mid sentence when Seonghwa inexplicably wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.

"You're cold, let me warm you up."

She indeed started to feel heat being produced from his body which started to flow into her own. It felt so nice, not only having him act as a personal heater but to just have him hold her after having to go through endless shit day after day. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder, slowly drifting off to sleep right then and there. One of Seonghwa's hands was busying itself by softly brushing her hair, being careful not to accidentally pull any out. He stayed like that for a few minutes before finally blurting out:

"The mission is finished. We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow."

Y/N felt her heart sink when she heard him say that.

"So....bringing me here was so you could say goodbye?" She lifted her head off his shoulders and stared at the ground with a blank expression.

"Well it depends..."

Y/N raised an eyebrow when he paused.

"Depends on what?" She urged him to finish.

"If you wanna leave this place and come with me." He offered, his eyes growing rounder as he hoped she'd say yes.

Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you being serious right now or is this some kind of alien joke?"

Seonghwa nodded in earnest.

"Deadly serious. I want you to come to my home with me. I know.... I hope you'll like it. It's not that different from your planet, although you know the technology is more advanced and flying cars and what not..."

When he saw that she wasn't budging, Seonghwa gulped nervously.

"But the location I live in is a more... tropical one. The water is sparkling blue, the glittering sand is warm to the touch, and the weather is always cool and refreshing. Wouldn't you like to live in a place like that with me?" He spoke those last two words out softly but he knew she definitely heard them.

He could hear and see her thoughts, debating whether or not it would be wise to leave with him or not. She looked behind her towards the city she lived in, almost in complete ruin with possibly no hope of redemption.

"There's nothing left for me here, is there?" She asked to herself rather than to him.

When she looked back at him, there was still a hint of doubt in her mind. Clasping his hands on her head, Seonghwa's thumbs rubbed circles on her temples as his orbs started turning a light yellow color.

"Please come with me. Stay with me and live with me." He spoke out softly, his voice having a light melodic tune to it.

Y/N felt herself getting immensely drawn to him, her thoughts beginning to fill up with images of staying by his side. It was as if she was getting pulled to him against her will.

"Wait..... Are you using hypnosis on me?!" She exclaimed in anger, pushing him away when she realized what was going on.

"It was worth a try." He admitted in defeat, head hung low in shame.

"Since you failed miserably..... I'll spare you the humiliation and accept to go with you."

Seonghwa widened his eyes when he heard her.

"Wait, for real?"

Y/N responded by placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't make me regret my decision though or I'll steal your laser gun and vaporize you." She warned him.

Lacing his fingers with hers, Seonghwa nudged her to follow him.

"I promise you won't."

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Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed she was currently in, alternating between wrapping herself with the blanket and kicking it off a second later. She was still in the middle of her fight with the covers that she failed to notice the door opened and her current roommate walk into their small compartment. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her struggle with an amusing smirk.

"Having fun there?" He broke her out of her trance.

"I can't sleep, I feel like I'm developing claustrophobia from mostly staying inside these 4 walls, and I'm still suffering from motion sickness." She grumbled, 1 week and she had still not adjusted to being inside an intergalactic spacecraft with no one but extraterrestrial beings to keep her company.

"Anything else you'd like to add?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

Y/N pouted her lips and stared up at him with puppy dog eyes.

"I'm lonely and want company?"

Unable to resist, Seonghwa faked an exhausted sigh as he began taking off his jacket.

"I'm off my piloting duties anyway, might as well get some rest before my next shift."

Finally happy at having someone by her side, Y/N made some space on the bed for Seonghwa to fit in, although she wondered if it would be big enough for the both of them since it was a rather compacted area. When she looked back at Seonghwa, she nearly wheezed when she saw him sliding right next to her completely bare. Catching her staring, Seonghwa continued on as if it was the most normal thing in the universe.

"What? Don't you humans go to sleep the same way we do?"

Y/N covered her red cheeks and turned her face away from him.

"N-no....we wear clothes when sleeping." She explained, body heating up from embarrassment. Seonghwa replied with a slight gruff.

"Seems impractical."

Wrapping one arm around her body, Seonghwa pulled Y/N down on the bed and held her close to him, his breath fanning against the nape of her neck.

"Try to rest." He suggested.

Y/N wondered how on earth was she supposed to rest knowing the extraterrestrial being was pressing his bare chest against her back? She tried hard not to move in fear of accidentally brushing along his cock.

"Wait, do aliens have dicks? I didn't really get a good look between his legs. I just saw abs and looked away."

Her thoughts began spiraling deeper and deeper into not so pure territory. She began wondering about Seonghwa's anatomy. Do his kind even have reproductive organs? Do they even have sex? What if he could produce tentacles out of his body that would suction onto parts of her body like some of the kinky hentai she watched a long time ago? That thought aroused her more than it should. How would it feel to have Seonghwa's tentacles latch onto her nipples and suckle them as another one slithered inside her core and probe around until it made a mess of her? She clenched her thighs inadvertently as her mind started to produce more and more dangerous scenes.

She was startled when she heard the alien behind her laugh softly.

"I hate to interrupt your sexual fantasy foolish human girl, but my kind do not possess the ability to produce the slimy limbs that you are imagining."

She had completely forgotten that their minds were still linked and if he wanted to, he could still read her mind. She buried her face deeper in the pillow, wanting to cry out in shame.

"I do apologize for that inconvenience, I'm afraid the closest you can get is my hands around you."

Y/N half gasped half moaned when she felt one of Seonghwa's large hands snake inside her sweater and cup her breast. His thumb tweaked at her nipple, giving it experimental tugs and pinches until finally settling for simply rubbing them since it seemed to produce more effects on her body. He listened intently to the way her breath hitched with every brush of his thumb and squeeze of her soft skin, feeling her body start to get warmer just for him.

"Isn't this what you wanted? I remember you often fantasized about having my hands all over you." He recalled all those times where he refused to go to sleep because he was too busy prying into her erotic thoughts that included him.

"Y-yes..." She breathed out.

"Did you only want them here?"

Y/N whined and shook her head.

"No.... want them- want them..." She felt embarrased to say it out loud even if she did have Seonghwa groping her chest, so she hoped he'd read her mind and give her what she wanted. Obviously he got the hint since he moved his hand and slipped it inside her shorts. Pushing her panties aside, Y/N groaned when he dipped two fingers past her slick folds. She was so unbelievably wet that even with the slow movements he was making, they could still faintly hear the squealching sounds that were being produced.

"Right here? This where you want them?" Adding a third finger inside, he drove them deeper inside her body as their pace intensified, the slopping noises becoming louder.

Y/N bit down on the sleeve of her sweater to muffle the moans that were spilling out, afraid of anyone hearing what was going on.

"Don't worry about anyone else, just focus on the way my fingers are invading your most intimate places. Tell me does it feel good? Do you like it?" He asked as his lips kissed across the side of her neck.

"Feels so good- I love it." She sighed blissfully as his fingers continued to swirl around her hole, tips curling so they could graze at her g-spot.

"Want to feel something even better?"

Y/N hummed in affirmation and allowed Seonghwa to move her onto her back. He surprised her when all he needed to do was tap twice against her clothes and they immediately vanished from her body, leaving her completely naked under him.

"How long have you been waiting to do that?" She eyed him suspiciously when his lips curled upwards in a cheeky grin.

"Far too long."

Cupping her cheeks, Seonghwa kissed her, almost like the first time when he came to her home, but this time the kiss was more passionate and full of raw emotions. He took his time and didn't slip his tongue inside her mouth, instead he wanted to savor how soft and plump her lips felt against his own, pulling away every few minutes only to catch his breath before diving back in to mold his mouth over hers. They were so lost in their heated kissing and tangled bodies, that they forgot they were both in their most intimate state until Seonghwa's member brushed along her slippery folds.

"Oh god-." Y/N stammered as her hips grinded up to feel more of Seonghwa, who had a proud smirk on his face.

"Are you going to be ok with an extraterrestrial being breeding you with his cock?"

Y/N grimaced slightly at his choice of words.

"Is that what you guys call it?"

"Well what do you guys call it?" He questioned.

"We like to call it fucking." She giggled.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows as his hands lifted her legs up to wrap them around his waist.

"I don't like it, sounds too impersonal and distant."

The cry coming out of Y/N's throat cracked and only half sounded when Seonghwa stuffed her full of his cock, his size stretching her out in a delicious sting.

"I prefer to get as close as possible."

Taking hold of her hands, he placed them on top of his shoulders before proceeding to rock his hips against hers. Y/N clung onto him as if her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and let her body succumb to his. Every touch from him was magnetizing, and she completely melted when his lips sought hers once more, a cosmic sensation pouring into her. Her nails dug onto the flesh of his back whilst her legs tangled themselves tighter around his waist, wanting to keep him near her as she started to feel a knot unraveling at the pit of her stomach, similar to the ones she'd feel all those nights she daydreamed about having him close to her. Only this time the feeling was more electrifying and intense, almost as if it was magic. Her eyes shut even tighter as the knot came loose and her lips began spilling out chants of Seonghwa's name as her juices flowed out of her body and coated his member that was still sliding deep inside her, not stopping so it could further heightened the sensation she was going through.

Feeling her release herself all over him, it was only a few moments later that Seonghwa himself vibrated against her body and filled her core with his own cum. His body started to faintly glow due to the rush he just felt at being so intimately connected with another person, the pulse in his heart beating so rapidly he thought it would burst any minute. Stroking her hair in a gentle manner, he pressed his forehead against hers, panting softly as he layed his body on top of hers, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

"Never in my life did I ever believe that on one of our scouting missions would I meet someone like you."

Pulling back so he could look at her beautiful face, Seonghwa smiled with adoration and fondness at his loving partner

"Yet here I am, going back home with the brightest star in the universe."

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smells-like-mettaton · 3 years

Link

Rating: T (for inherent neutral ending angst)

Summary: Toriel's old house feels like a mausoleum. She will gladly ignore chisp crumbs and lumpy mattresses for a place that feels more like home. (Queen Toriel ending fic for Soriel Week 2021.)

Word Count: 5211

XXX

The bedroom was exactly how she left it. Her bed pushed up against the gray wall. A book about snails on the wooden desk. A knit sweater with the embroidered words "Mrs. Mom Lady" in the wardrobe.

Even after all this time, she could barely look at it without her soul splitting in two.

She'd known this wouldn't be easy. She hadn't seen this house in over a century. Still, she wasn't prepared for how Asgore had sealed up her old room like a tomb, a photograph of the day that everything went terribly, horribly wrong.

At least the last child was safe. They should not have had to take a life to save their own, but she doubted Asgore had given them a choice. Her own soul felt more numb than anything. To her, Asgore had died a century ago.

What was done, was done. And as usual, she was too late to do anything but sweep up the dust.

She backed through the doorframe, shutting the door with a quiet click. She would have to return eventually, but for now, she yearned for a place with fewer painful memories.

"Hey, Your Majesty." A voice startled her as she attempted to escape the foyer. Luckily it was a voice she would always recognize.

"Hello, old friend." She turned and smiled at the monster leaning against the stair railing.

He was smaller than she expected, with that deep voice. Not that that was a bad thing. As for him being a skeleton, that had been apparent from the abundance of bone puns.

"You know the formality is unnecessary," she told him softly.

"Is it?" He shuffled from foot to slippered foot.

In all her time of joking with him through the door, she had never expected him to be so cute.

"Didn't want to assume, old lady."

He winked, and she felt a weight lift from her chest. At least one monster would still treat her like a person, and not like a mythical figure returned to save them.

"Toriel," she introduced herself for the first time. He had to have heard already, but between rushing to the palace, scattering Asgore's dust, comforting their—her people… she hadn't had time to seek out her friend.

He seemed to feel comfortable walking right into her home, though. Did he ever visit Asgore when he was here? Her friend seemed like the type of monster who went wherever he felt like, and Asgore, for all his flaws, had never turned a monster away from his home.

"Sans." He held out a bony hand. "Sans the skeleton."

"Nice to meet you, Sans," she tested out the name and clasped his hand with her paw.

A loud pthbbbbbt echoed through the empty hall. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, Toriel. That's, uh, some way to make an introduction." He winked.

She squinted down at the inflatable object in his hand, the source of the farting noise. Then she pretended to ignore it.

"It certainly is. I was not aware that skeletons were capable of flatulence."

His eyelights gutted for a moment before he burst out laughing.

"Your jokes are even better in person," he said once he composed himself.

His laugh set her soul fluttering. In all their conversations through the door, he'd never laughed like that. Maybe she should have tried fart jokes sooner.

"I am always happy to tickle your funny bone." She smiled, and his face tinged blue.

"Happy to be tickled. But, uh. I guess that's not all I'm here for?"

Her breath caught in her lungs. Of course he would not visit without a reason.

"I suppose not. Would you like to have a seat?"

"It's nothing that serious," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you'd want an update on the kid."

"You've spoken with them? They are still here?" She tried to keep the hysteria from her voice.

How could they have taken Asgore’s soul and not returned home? Had the Barrier proven too powerful?

"No—geez, I'm making this sound worse." He ran a bony palm down his face. "They’re definitely gone. Papyrus tried to call them nonstop. Besides that, you know the big stuff. The king's dead."

Her lips drew to a thin line, pulling tight across her fangs.

"I can hardly fault them for that."

"Right." He stuck his hands back in his pockets. "I gotta be honest. The way the kid looked when I last saw them… I don't think they did it."

Her brow furrowed. She was inclined to hope that the child had not chosen violence. They had been so sweet, so eager to talk and joke with the monsters of the Ruins, so quick to hug her even after she’d fought them. It was hard to imagine them striking down Asgore.

"But… then what do you think happened?"

Sans shrugged. "Wish I knew. I kept watch best I could, but…"

"I could not expect you to come between them and your king." As much as she wished he could have. She had hardly expected him to agree to watch over the human at all.

“Couldn’t have even if I wanted to. These bones aren’t as sturdy as they look. Maybe I shoulda listened to my bro and drank more milk...” He grimaced and glanced away. “Anyway. Like I said, I don’t know what happened. Just. Be careful, okay?”

“Careful?” She blinked.

“Yeah. You never know.” His gaze flickered to a potted golden flower on the end table next to the stairs.

“Sans. If I did not know better, that would sound like a threat.” She crouched down, so she could better meet his eyesockets. “Is there something you are trying to tell me?”

“Man. First I rip one in front of a lady, then I threaten her. I’m makin’ a great first impression.” He rocked back and forth on his slippers. “Look. Toriel. I don’t wanna scare you, ‘specially since today must’ve been hard. Real hard.”

His eyelights bored into her irises. She found herself needing to look away.

“It has certainly been… interesting. Moreso than any day since I last saw this place.” She suppressed a shudder.

Change. Her life had been constant for so long. There would be no more of that, now. Hopefully that would be for the better, but only time would tell.

“Yeah. Being flung away from everything you’re used to… don’t imagine that’s a cakewalk. Don’t want you to worry about freaks hiding in the shadows on top of that.”

Somehow, she felt he made more sense when he was on the other side of a door. Knock-knock jokes had a formula. Just another normalcy she had forfeited, she supposed.

“Please, Sans. If you believe I am in danger, you may say so.”

“Fine. So.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help a snort.

“Alright, I suppose I walked into that one.” She smiled, despite his warning. “Under normal circumstances, I would say I could handle myself. But I must admit you are more updated on the state of the kingdom than I. Do you have any information that could help?”

“...Not really?” His grin turned sheepish. “You look like a tough lady. I bet my bones are rattling over nothing.”

“I would still humer-us you.”

He gave her a funny look. “You’re actually taking me seriously?”

“Why would I not? You are my friend. Perhaps… my only friend, at this point,” she admitted. It would be foolish to ignore a warning, even if it was based on gut feeling. Or, whatever skeletons had in place of a gut.

“Well. Uh. If someone, something, was behind the king’s… yeah. If it wasn’t the kid, whoever else it was might still be around. So.” He coughed. “Sounds stupid when I say it like that, huh.”

“It does not. I think it is sweet that you are worried.” He wouldn’t be able to see her blush, thankfully. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for her.

“Geez, Toriel.” He rubbed the back of his skull. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation? Are you typically a monster with a heart of bone?” she teased.

“Nah. I just don’t worry. Too much work.” It was difficult to tell if he was joking. “Guess I can make an exception this once, though.”

“Why, thank you, my friend.” She had the sudden urge to reach out and squeeze his hand. It would be more for her own comfort than his, so she did not act on it. “To be honest, your words are a relief. I do not mind the excuse to avoid this place.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “You got somewhere else you’d rather be?”

She both did, and did not. How could she explain without sounding like a clinging child?

...Perhaps that was the wrong metaphor. She would have preferred her children to be a little clingier.

“‘Cause, uh, if you don’t mind a bit of mess… my door’s always open.”

She blinked at the offer. Had he felt the thoughts stirring in her soul?

She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. And she had told him the truth: there were unlikely to be any other monsters she knew still around. Perhaps Gerson; she and Asgore had always joked that he would outlive them.

That joke seemed awfully morbid now.

“Sorry. Was that too forward? Our friendship’s built off closed doors; guess we should just take 'em one at a—"

"No," she interjected too forcefully. “No. I would love to visit your home.”

Though she had never set foot there, she already suspected it would feel more like a home than this place.

“You really—? Great.” His skull tinged the faintest blue. “Just, uh, know that it’s nothing fancy.”

Toriel smiled. “‘Nothing fancy’ sounds wonderful at the moment.”

Perhaps wherever he lived would be out of the way enough that news of her return would be delayed. If she could be lucky enough to pass for an ordinary monster… well, that was likely too much to wish for. It certainly wasn’t becoming of a queen to hide from her subjects.

Stars, there was so much to get used to. So many formalities to reacquaint herself with. She hoped such things would wait until tomorrow.

Sans returned her smile.

“In that case, I know a shortcut.”

XXX

She handled the shortcut well for a first-timer. No stumbling on the other end, no complaints of nausea or dizziness. Of course, she was a Queen. A Boss Monster. Why would a magic trick ruin her composure?

Sans wanted to laugh. All this time, he'd been joking with the Queen. She didn't seem to mind, but she could just be “humerus”ing him.

...Nah. She had every excuse to ignore him if she really wanted to. Instead she'd actually taken him up on his offer.

He almost forgot to drop her hand once their feet landed in the soft snow. Heh. Who was he kidding? It was just nice to feel her fur under his fingers. To touch her, and know that she was real.

"Oh!" Her eyes lit up, reflecting the gyftmas lights strung haphazardly around the house's columns. "I remember this place!"

"You do?" Sans's browbone furrowed.

"I saw it while travelling from the Ruins to…" she trailed off. To stop the kid from fighting Asgore.

Sans felt stupid for not trying to stop them himself. Not that a kid that determined would’ve listened, anyway. Still… he’d believed in them. Hoped that by some miracle, they’d get ‘em out of this mess.

Heh. That was too much pressure to put on a kid, even a determined one.

"Yeah." He coughed quietly. "Guess we're hard to miss. Papyrus did something to the Gyftmas lights—even when the CORE lights go out for the night, ours stay on. Never figured out how he pulled that off."

Toriel laughed before seeming to realize something.

"I will get to meet your brother!" She clasped her hands together. "I wish it had not come about for such an unhappy reason, but I am excited nonetheless."

He chuckled. Her excitement was contagious. That was something she and Papyrus had in common already.

He pushed the door open, called out for his brother—and noticed the monster sprawled out on his couch.

"Oh." Sans blinked at Undyne, who was snoring so loudly, he should've heard it from outside. Guess he'd been a little distracted. "Uh. This is awkward."

"What is it?" Toriel hung back, her head ducking through the doorframe. "Is your brother sleeping? I would not wish to wake him. You said he rarely sleeps, did you not?"

"Nah, it's not him. Forgot his pal's house burned down. Actually, I'm sure you met her. Undyne? Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"I… yes, we met." Toriel edged inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "She looks far more peaceful now than she did this morning. From what I understand, my ex-husband was something of a father to her."

"Something like that." Sans nodded in agreement. There hadn't even been a Royal Guard until Asgore created the position for her. Sans wondered if Toriel would keep it around now that Asgore was gone.

Welp. It wouldn't hurt, what with his suspicions about Papyrus's friend "Flowery."

(Maybe Sans should let Toriel sleep on the top floor rather than the couch anyway. No dirt for stray flowers to get into up there.)

"Should we be staring?" Toriel said with a soft chuckle.

Sans shook his thoughts away. "Sorry. Just thinking. I, uh…"

There wasn't room on the top floor. Sans's lumpy, crumb-dusted mattress was out of the question. That left only Papyrus's bed, which while rarely in use, had too much sentimental value to give to Toriel without asking. Where was Papyrus, anyway?

"Undyne!" His brother practically kicked in the door. "I have returned with nutritious—oh!"

Papyrus's sockets blinked at Toriel. Then at Sans. Then at Toriel again.

(Undyne let out another loud snore.)

"Sans?” Papyrus dropped his groceries on the table next to the pet rock. “Why didn't you tell me we had another guest??"

Because he was an idiot who hadn't planned past one impulsive offer. His face went a little blue.

"I guest you would figure it out," he managed to joke.

Toriel let out a bleating laugh at that. The suddenness of it was enough to jolt Undyne awake.

"NGAHH!!" She tried to leap off the couch, but ended up rolling onto the floor. "I'm here, Asgore! I won't—oh."

Her single eye blinked up at Toriel.

"Papyrus?" Undyne hissed through her teeth. "Why didn't you tell me the Queen was coming??"

"Because I didn't know!" Papyrus replied brightly.

"I, uh, promise I'm usually more professional than this." Undyne summoned an energy spear and used it to push herself to her feet. The attack left a small char mark on the carpet. "I am at your service, Your Majesty."

Sans thought she looked real professional in a pair of Papyrus's MTT-brand crop top pajamas. Toriel didn't comment on that though, instead opting for a matronly smile.

"There is no need for that, Captain. I am not here on business, but as a friend."

That smile turned towards Sans, and he fought back a blush.

"Yeah. I was just gonna, uh, make some dinner. Y'know, welcome our queen back with some Snowdin hospitality."

"Dinner?" Papyrus squinted suspiciously. "You don't cook dinner. I cook dinner."

"First time for everything, right?" Sans winked to hide his embarrassment.

Of course Papyrus wouldn't buy his excuse. But he really didn't want his brother and Undyne worrying on top of Toriel. Granted, it was Undyne's job to worry about security threats… but she'd tear up the house's foundation if she thought an enemy might be hiding anywhere in a five-mile radius.

"Sans," Toriel chided him. "You do not owe me that."

"Wowie! You must be a great influence on him, Bald Asgore!"

Toriel blinked before bursting out laughing. Sans's grin widened.

"Her name is Toriel, bro."

"Of course!! Where are my manners?" Papyrus bustled past him to shake Toriel's paws. "I am the Great Papyrus! It's an honor to meet you, Queen Toriel!"

"The honor is mine. Sans has told me so much about you," she said, and Papyrus blushed pink.

"You? Know the new queen?" Undyne whispered to Sans while Papyrus and Toriel got acquainted.

"You know me. I know everyone." He winked.

"She came out of nowhere."

"Yeah. My bro and I know what that's like."

Undyne huffed, but Sans didn't offer a more thorough explanation.

Papyrus's affronted shout signalled that Toriel had dropped her first pun.

"I take it back! This is the worst day of my life!!"

Sans met Toriel's eyes, and they both laughed.

"I suppose I will have to help Sans in the kitchen as my pun-ishment," she said with a coy wink.

"Normally I would object to a guest cooking, but in this case I will make an exception!" Papyrus turned on his heel and grabbed Undyne's arm. "We will clean up the living room in the meantime! Try not to corrupt the queen any further, Sans!!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, bro."

He gave a quick wink to Toriel behind Papyrus's back, and they moved to the kitchen.

"Did I actually upset him…?" She asked once they were out of earshot.

"Nah. He's just dramatic like that. He'll drop three puns per sentence when he thinks I'm not listening."

He turned away, rummaging through the fridge for something edible they could cook. Discreetly, he tucked his empty chisp bag behind Papyrus’s spaghetti-filled tupperware.

“Oh, good. I would not want to make a bad first impression.”

“Pfft. You’d have to try real hard to do that, Tori. My bro sees the best in everyone.” He smiled and pulled a “pupperoni” pizza out of the freezer. It wasn’t anything fancy, but at least it would be edible.

He turned around, pizza in hand, and found Toriel staring at him oddly.

“What?” His sockets widened. “Uh, you’re not vegetarian, are you?”

She shook her head quickly, her gaze skimming off of his like oil from water.

“Pizza sounds lovely. It has been quite some time since I had one.”

Sans didn’t pry, but he couldn’t help wondering what her expression had meant. Had he said something weird?

...Oh. He’d called her Tori, hadn’t he? He should know better than to use nicknames without asking. Papyrus hated them.

“Please, allow me.” She held out her paws, so she couldn’t be too upset.

He handed over the pizza, and he jumped when fire flared to life in her palms. For a moment he thought the fire would scorch the pizza beyond recognition, but the flames were just pleasantly warm. He’d never known a monster other than Grillby to have such careful control of fire magic.

“Heh. I didn’t know you were so hot, Toriel.”

As soon as he said it, he clamped his jaw shut. Geez, how stupid could he be? Making bad jokes was one thing, but flirting with bad jokes?

The fire went out. She looked up abruptly—er, looked away from the pizza. He was still a good two feet shorter than her.

“Tori was fine,” she said, her voice soft.

“Uh,” he replied intelligently.

She suppressed a giggle, and he was pretty sure his face burned hotter than her fire had. He could stand to take notes from Alphys and throw himself in the trash.

“Or not. Whatever is comfortable for you,” she reassured him. “Now, should we eat dinner before it gets cold?”

Eating was hardly something he could screw up at.

“Sure,” then after a pause, he tested, “Tori.”

Forget her fire magic. Her smile could’ve heated the pizza all on its own.

XXX

For once in a hundred years, dinner was a warm and energetic affair. In addition to the pizza, Papyrus had tossed together a salad from his fresh groceries, and Sans had briefly stepped out to grab a few orders of wings and fries. In the end there was plenty of food for four hungry monsters.

Papyrus apologized for the lack of seating, but Toriel didn’t mind sitting on the couch squeezed between Sans and Undyne, eating off of paper plates. She couldn’t imagine anywhere she would have felt more comfortable.

Before long, though, the day’s fatigue caught up with her. She supposed it was to be expected—she wouldn’t regain her social stamina all at once.

Sans caught her eye, and he nodded towards the stairs as Undyne and Papyrus “owned” each other in an MTT-Brand fighting game.

“Sorry. I know they can be a bit much.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull.

“They’re lovely. I wish I had the energy to keep up with them.” She smiled.

He leaned against the banister, smiling down at them. Papyrus had gotten the upper hand this time, and was punching the air with joy.

“Me too,” Sans said, still looking away. “I was thinking. If you want a place to rest for the night, my bed’s open.”

She blinked. Her face seemed to catch fire. That was rather more�� forward than she was expecting. Sure, she had enjoyed his lighthearted flirting, and much as she tried to deny it, feelings had been growing in her for a long time. But to have him return those feelings? And so boldly? It was as unfathomable as it was unlikely.

“I can get ya some fresh sheets, and I’ll crash in the shed. My bro set up an, uh, guest room there when the human was in town.”

Oh. She rubbed the heat from her face while he wasn’t looking. How foolish could she be, to think he would be implying…? Well.

“I would not force you out of your room,” she said. “If your brother prepared a guest room, I am sure that would be adequate.”

He let out a quick laugh. “Uh, you’re not used to my brother’s… decorating. Seriously, I don’t mind.”

She sighed. If he insisted, she supposed it would be rude to deny his hospitality.

“Alright. Thank you very much, Sans.”

“Great.” He smiled back at her, then went into his brother’s room. She waited patiently, and only jumped a little when he suddenly reappeared from the right hand door. Perhaps the two rooms were connected in the back by a bathroom.

“Hotel Sans, one vacancy.” He winked while holding the door open.

She chuckled behind her hand. “You really did not have to resort to this.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t call it much of a resort. The bed’s not even queen sized.” He rubbed the back of his skull.

The bed was smaller than she was used to, but it did have fresh sheets. That was the only fresh thing about the room. Chisp crumbs had been brushed under the dresser, and… that was a tornado. A self-sustaining trash tornado. Though at least there was a pine-scented air freshener suspended in it.

“Sorry, it’s… really not much. Uh. Probably kinda insulting, expecting the Queen to sleep—”

“It’s perfect.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I am no stranger to a few crumbs, Sans.”

She remembered days that bled into weeks that bled into months. Months where she couldn’t bring herself to clean, could hardly bring herself to care at all. Months that had grown fewer and farther between since she’d met a friendly voice behind a door.

“I would’ve vacuumed,” he said sheepishly, “but I suck at it.”

More embarrassingly loud laughter burst from her. In front of Sans, though, she didn’t feel the need to curtail her joy.

“Thank you.” She poured as much sincerity as she could into her voice.

“‘S no problem, Tori.” A light blue tinge warmed his cheekbones. How could he possibly look so adorable? “Bathroom’s down the hall if you wanna wash up or anything. And Undyne’ll be on the couch, so this is probably the safest place in the Underground right now.”

Her brow furrowed. Sure enough, there was no bathroom door inside the room—he must have used one of his “shortcuts” to move from his brother’s room to here.

“So, uh. I’ll be in the shed—uh, guest room if you need me.” He flashed one more tense grin before turning to leave.

“Wait.” She stepped towards him without thinking.

He looked up, one brow ridge raised. She found herself biting her lip, wondering if she dared ask what her soul wanted. It was silly, really. She’d been on her own for years, decades.

Maybe that was why she was so hesitant to lose this one taste of companionship.

“I would feel… safer, if you would stay too.” Her face burned beneath her fur, but she projected her usual composure.

“...Welp. Can’t say no to that, huh?”

She was about to reassure him that he could say no—that she was asking as his friend, not as his queen—but the soft smile on his face told her he already knew.

He briefly left to grab a few things, then returned with a few pillows and, for some reason, a dog bed.

“You are not going to sleep on that,” she said in disbelief.

He flopped the dog bed in the middle of the floor and started fluffing it. “Why not? Gotta throw a dog bed a bone, right?”

“Sans.”

The outdoor lights dimmed, as if at her command. Only the colored Gyftmas lights outside and one dim indoor bulb lit the room.

Her confidence waned with the light. What had she expected him to do? She’d asked him to stay. Unless she wanted to…

Oh, to hell with it. She was too old to be so shy about these things.

“If you are not opposed,” she swallowed, “we could… share this mattress.”

When he looked up, she couldn’t make out his eyelights at all. Their glow returned slowly, like the rising of the sun from her memories.

“Heh… you sure? You don’t even know if I snore.”

She laughed and sat on the bed, patting the space beside her. “You do not know if I snore, either.”

“Fair enough, Tori.”

They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom—she was imposing on Sans enough without adding the smell of dirty fur to his bed. Then she did her best to ignore the flutterings in her soul as he slipped off his hoodie and climbed up onto the mattress. She insisted he stay under the sheets; her fur would keep her warm enough with just the light blanket on top.

The sheets were a barrier in name only. There was only so much space on the mattress, so no matter how he adjusted and apologized, she could still feel the curve of his spine against hers.

It felt amazing. It felt terrifying. It felt like a mistake. It felt like the only thing she’d ever done right.

The one saving grace of the whole situation was that it didn’t stir memories of Asgore. Her royal beds had been triple the size of Sans’s lumpy mattress. She and her ex-husband had rarely slept back to back, and if they had, the feeling would have much different.

“...Tori?” Sans’s voice was just above a whisper. “You, uh, still awake?”

As if she could sleep while enduring the wonderful agony of friendly touch for the first time in a century.

“Yes,” she replied softly. “Am I taking up too much space?”

“No, ‘course not. I was just, uh… geez.” He sounded embarrassed.

Risking their precarious balance, she rolled over to face him. Or to face the back of his skull, at least.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Doin’ sans-sational.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry. Never got to use that one with you before.”

She would have laughed, had she not worried about shaking the whole mattress.

“It was sans-tastic,” she joked back, and he laughed again.

Then abruptly, his laughter cut off.

“Thanks, Tori,” he said in a quiet but firm voice.

“What for?” She wished she could take his hand, see his face, learn what thoughts were passing through his skull. Instead she gave him as much space as physically possible… which still was not much.

A long, silent moment passed. Had he fallen asleep?

“I know it’s not how you wanted,” he finally said, “but I’m glad I got to meet you. So. Thanks.”

Warmth spread outward from her soul to fill her whole body. Sans could probably feel it radiating from her.

“Thank you, Sans. If I had to return, knowing no one…”

He rolled to face her. His eyelights were mere inches from her pupils.

“You would’ve been fine. All you had to do was tell a few of your amazing jokes, and the whole Underground would’ve been linin’ up to be your pals.”

She suppressed a laugh. “I hardly think that would be appropriate, under the circumstances.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Plenty of monsters in town cope with jokes. You’d just be relating to the common folk.”

She stared into his sockets a little too intently. At this distance, it easily made her dizzy.

“Would you be included in that demographic?” she couldn’t help asking.

“When I first met you? For sure.” His gaze darted away. “But it’s crazy. Between you and the kid… I’m startin’ to think there’s more to life than good food and bad laughs.”

“Really?” She and the child had made such an impact on him?

“I know. Don’t tell Papyrus. He wouldn’t believe you, anyway.” He winked.

“My lips are sealed.” She smiled.

Silence hung between them. It should have felt awkward, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn away. In the end it was Sans who yawned in her face and then hurriedly flipped back onto his other side.

She laughed, and clearly she was exhausted too, because she pressed a kiss to the back of his skull without thinking.

He froze. She froze. There was no way to play that off gracefully. And there was no way she could fall asleep and pretend that it had not happened.

“Heh… those didn’t feel very sealed to me,” he finally rasped out.

It took her a moment to process what he meant. Meanwhile her embarrassment only burned hotter.

“I am so sorry—”

“I’m not.” When he rolled back to face her, his face was bright blue. “You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?”

His question was tinged with desperation.

“Of course,” she answered automatically, despite the many responsibilities that she would have to attend to in the morning. She was the Queen once more. If she had to, she could adjust the schedule of meetings and speeches to accommodate… this.

Whatever this was to be.

“Remind me in the morning,” he squeezed her hand, “that this is real.”

His hand quickly went limp. She was worried for a moment, before she heard the faint snore escape his nasal cavity.

She gave him a fond smile, and allowed her own eyes to close. She did not know if sleep would come or not. She did not know what challenges the new day would bring, or what old challenges would continue to rear their heads.

But she did know that she was not alone. For tonight, that was enough.

#soriel #sans #toriel #fic tag #tali writes #soriel week 2021 #soriel week #really glad to finally share this one!

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absolute-flaming-trash-archive · 4 years

Text

Hurt - Part 2

Was not expecting that many people wanting a part 2, but who am I to deny y'all?

Trick question, I myself am insatiable

Pairing: Hisoka x Fem!Reader

Smut and Angst

Word Count: 4′645 This was supposed to be short

Warnings: NSFW, Dubcon (bordering on Noncon), Unprotected Sex, Blood, Hisoka being a cheeky little shit. Semi-edited.

I’m gonna use this opportunity to say that, even if your partner doesn’t outright say “no”, that is NOT consent. Unfinished sentences, hesitation, and no response at all does not mean “yes”. Always check in for consent.

That being said, enjoy my fellow Hisoka fuckers. I loved writing this and I will actually cry if this flops.

Part 1, Part 3

----------------------------------------

The silence that filled the room was palpable, interrupted only by the rhythmic drips of water falling from the cloth into the bowl.

Hisoka had yet to release his hold on you, making you narrow your eyes in annoyance. He licked his lips as he stared down at you, enjoying the direct line of sight he had down your shirt.

“And what if that isn’t my cards, what would you say then~?”

“Then I’d say that if you have enough energy to be thinking about that, then you are capable of cleaning yourself up. Your wounds have stopped bleeding, anyways.” You wrenched your wrist from his hand, trying not to think about how easily he let you go as pushed yourself to your feet. “You know where the shower is, there’s clean towels under the sink as usual.”

He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head slightly as he regarded your aloof attitude with a chuckle, “What if I really do require your... assistance? I have lost a lot of blood, after all.”

You scoffed and folded your arms in front of your chest, “I think we both know it takes a more than a little blood loss to make you lose consciousness.”

He hummed and stood, walking towards you to bring a finger underneath your chin, “Will you be joining me, just to make sure?”

You swallowed thickly as your cheeks burned when his hot breath fanned across your face, and you wanted to kick yourself. His heavy-lidded gaze did nothing to help the feeling that stirred deep in your gut. You pulled yourself away from him, taking a step back to collect yourself and fixing another glare on him, only making his smirk widen. “Don’t be ridiculous, and don’t use up all the hot water.”

I’m gonna need one after cleaning up all your shit

You let out a sigh of relief as he relented, walking towards the bathroom. You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath.

Running a hand down your face, you slung the bloody cloth over your shoulder and turned your head to examine the damage done to your couch since his arrival. You groaned at the sight. Deep red patches stained the cushions and armrest, there was no way that those were coming out no matter how deep you cleaned. There was only so much that online tips and laundry detergent could do, but that was a problem for later.

Your attention turned to the bloodied shirt that Hisoka had tossed unceremoniously on the floor, grimacing slightly at the way the clotted blood stuck to your fingers when you picked it up. Fuck, it was.... absolutely drenched! How the hell he was even able to stand was a miracle to you, but you didn’t want to think about it too much. That man was an enigma enough as it was.

The faint sound of the shower starting filled the silence in the house, making you relax slightly; the tension from earlier finally beginning to dissipate a little bit. You moved to the kitchen in order to attempt to restore the atrocity in your hands. It would need to soak in cold water for at least an hour before you could even begin to try scrubbing the blood out.

The sound of the sink filling with water aided in calming your nerves further as you held your fingers underneath the stream to test the temperature, tossing the bloody cloth onto the counter. It didn’t take long for the water to reach the halfway point before you turned it off.

The water immediately turned a deep red as soon as you placed the shirt in the sink. You repressed the urge to gag as gobs of clotted blood began to float off and onto your hands. No matter how many times you bandaged him up, you would never get used to the sight of the blood...

You paused briefly; your hands starting to get numb from the cold of the water as your mind wandered. How many times had you done this? How many times had he come into your house whenever he pleased, only for you to treat him without question? You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at yourself. ‘Without question’ wasn’t entirely accurate, but who could blame you for asking the Magician with a death wish what the hell he gets up to every once in a while. You frowned, looking over your shoulder towards the hallway that led to the bathroom. What were you going to do with him?

Guilt began to eat away at your heart as you thought about the gash going down his chest. You made him clean himself up, then again, he deserved it, but you wouldn’t leave him to patch himself up. You sighed, and picked the shirt up out of the water, ringing the material as much as you could before pulling the plug in the sink. You’d have to keep changing the water if you wanted any hope of getting the majority of the blood out.

While the sink filled again, you retrieved your kit from the living room and set it on the counter by the sink; pulling out what you believed you would need. Gauze for sure, it didn’t matter if the wound had stopped bleeding, you would need to pack it. From the state of his clothing though, you figured the worst of the bleeding had stopped before he arrived. Antibiotic ointment was mandatory... so was the compression bandage...

You groaned and massaged your temples in an attempt to relieve the oncoming headache. You couldn’t do stitches, which meant he would have to stay in your home so you could monitor his recovery. Which meant you’d have to get close to him to change his bandages. Multiple times.

The couch was out of commission as a place to sleep on now, given the state it was in...

You wanted to scream.

Hitting the handle on the tap a little harder than necessary, you placed the shirt back in, this time the water turning only a dark pink as it began to soak once again. You worried your bottom lip while wiping your hands with a dishtowel, trying to think of any possible sleeping arrangements that didn’t result in him sharing your bed; your anxiety rising the more you realized that it was looking like he might just have to share your bed...

God. Fucking. Damnit.

You shook your head, glancing over at the stove to read the bright red numbers that displayed the time.

11:06pm

With another sigh, you threw the towel on the counter and turned around to go deal with the couch. What you did not expect was to see Hisoka standing directly behind you, making you flinch in surprise and letting out a startled gasp.

“Holy mother of hell, Hisoka, warn a girl would ya?!” You panted, placing a hand over your now racing heart, sending yet another glare to the offending man in front of you. The glare, however, was short lived as soon as your realized his state of undress. The only thing keeping this man from being entirely stark naked in your kitchen was a grey towel that was slung a little too low on his hips for your comfort. You coughed and averted your eyes, despising the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Would it kill you to put a pair of pants on?”

It was difficult to keep yourself from tripping over your words at the sight of him, and you glared at the wall when you heard him laugh in response.

“You’re so red, my dear, am I making you uncomfortable?”

You grit your teeth in frustration, seething at how his casual drawl wasn’t making anything better for you. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nose in an effort to calm yourself down before looking back over at your newly acquired house guest.

“You are beginning to overstep your bounds when it comes to my hospitality, either cover up or find someone else to treat your wounds.”

It was an empty threat and you both knew it. You both knew you were too kind to kick him out of your house, despite how uneasy he made you. It just wasn’t in your heart to do so. You ran your hand down your face again, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt the headache begin to form once again.

“Just... grab the pair of sweatpants from the top left drawer of my dresser at least. I’ll wash your clothes tonight, since that’s the only guess I have for you being naked as a jaybird. I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done.”

Grabbing your kit and a chair from the kitchen table, you brushed past him as quickly as possible and placed it in front of the one patch of the couch that wasn’t covered in blood and set your kit down on the floor. You peeked over your shoulder to see if he was still standing here.

He wasn’t. Thank god.

He reappeared moments later in the pair of grey sweats that looked way too good on him for how small they were. You felt heat creep back into your cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

“Take a seat in front of me, please.” You began to pull out what you would need, “it’ll make things easier if I don’t have to crouch in front of you.”

It would also make it harder for him to pull the same stunt he did before. A look you didn’t recognize flashed through his eyes before he complied. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, holding your hands under your chin as you began to reassess the damage.

The injury on his torso wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. It was deep and would still require stitches, but with the blood washed away it didn’t look as horrid as before. Clearing your throat, you began to work.

“I’m going to have to do this once or twice a day depending on how you heal,” you said, scooping some antibiotic ointment onto your fingers, “you won’t be able to do any more jobs until the large gash is fully healed, or anything too strenuous really.”

He simply hummed in response as you began to apply the ointment to his chest, trying to ignore how his muscles twitched with every swipe as you worked over his wounds. God, his skin was so hot against your hands...

“That being said, this isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” you began to pack the wound with gauze, being careful not to press to hard on the wound, “with the amount of blood on the couch and on your clothes, I was expecting a lot worse...” you trailed off, the realization hitting you way later than it should have.

The sly smile that graced his face was frightening.

“Most of it isn’t mine, darling”

Your stomach lurched when he confirmed your suspicions out loud, but you forced the bile rising in your throat down; only nodding as you reached for the compression bandage. Your discomfort was still noticed by the magician, however, who leaned forward towards you a little more than necessary as you began to wrap the bandage around his chest.

“Because of the state of your injury, I would suggest you stay here for the next little while so I can keep an eye on your progress.”

You didn’t like the smile that crept across his face at that, or the way he leaned in closer to you when you wrapped the bandage around his back, “How long are we playing house then, hmm~?”

You gulped. His voice was teasing as always, but the implication behind it combined by the fact it was spoken directly in your ear sent shivers down your spine.

“I’d say about week or two.” You didn’t trust yourself to say much more as you secured the bandage with tensor clips. You checked your work over one last time before beginning to gather your things up. A frown tugged at Hisoka’s lips from the less than pleased tone in your voice.

“Don’t you want to play with me~?”

You shot him an unimpressed look as you stood up, wanting to be away from this man sooner rather than later. “I’m not your toy, Hisoka. I’m doing this for the sake of your health, because believe it or not, you are mortal.”

He followed your movements, standing in front of you before you had the chance to create any more distance between the two of you; once again taking your chin in his hand, this time more gently than before. It was.... caring almost.

“And it’s for reasons like that, my dear, that you are my favourite toy, and the idea of... playing with you in such a way is too much to pass up.”

It was your turn to frown at his words, “I don’t know what you mean, and I’m quite sure I don’t want to know.” That was a lie. You got the message loud and clear, but by god you wanted it to be wrong.

A dramatic sigh left his lips before he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“My my, do you need me to explain it to you more simply?”

He didn’t. Shit.

You stared up at him, his red locks tickling your face from how close he was to you.

“Why me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. He tilted his head almost mockingly so.

“What was that, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes, a sudden resurgence of bravery. “You could have anyone you want, why me?”

You expected him to give you that insufferable smile of his, or to at least laugh at you for even daring to ask such a question. Instead his eyes bore into you with an intensity that you’d never felt before, “Because you’re the only one that I want. You healed me when you didn’t have to and did so without question. I don’t think you understand what that means, my dear.”

You let out a surprised squeak as his lips collided with you in a kiss that held pure unbridled lust, teeth clashing from the intensity. He left you panting when he pulled back, licking along the shell of your ear. “You’re mine”.

You couldn’t even get your bearings before he kissed you again, just as bruising as before. Your gasps granted him the access to your mouth that he so obviously desired. The feeling of his hands wandering up your sides to your breasts brought you back to your senses enough to pull away from him and send a hand flying towards his face.

The smack resonated around the room, leaving your hand stinging while your chest heaved. You felt dizzy. Too much was happening too fast.

“How fucking dare you,” your voice was barely audible as a whirlwind of emotions ran through you. Hate? Want? Fear? You didn’t know anymore, but all you knew was that it was too much for you to handle, “You mistake my kindness and hospitality for something more. I am not yours, Hisoka.”

His head was still knocked to the side from the force of your slap. He wouldn’t admit it, but you hit harder than he expected. His shock was quickly replaced with a look that could only be described as predatory as he looked back towards you, licking his lips, tasting the blood from the small split you had caused; a mixture of a moan and growl leaving his throat.

“Oh, but you are, Y/N. You have been mine for a long time.”

The dread hit you like a bus. He had never said your name before, never in all the times he had come into your home. He was serious.

Oh fuck... what had you gotten yourself into...

In a last ditch effort, you bolted, but you didn’t get far.

You felt yourself getting yanked back, making you lose your balance and land on the floor; knocking the wind out of you. You wheezed, coughing from the force of the fall, stars littering your vision from your head smacking against the floor.

You regained clarity to the sound of your clothes being torn from your body, making you yelp, kicking and slapping the man on top of you in a vain attempt to get free. He chuckled and easily batted your hands away, gathering them into one hand and pinning them above your head. You whimpered, your clothes around you in ruined strips, leaving you bare beneath the man you had just treated moments ago; a small feeling of betrayal forming in your chest.

You were trapped.

The room was silent as Hisoka stilled above you for a moment, seemingly admiring the view. You were frozen in a state of shock and fear, tears beginning to form in your eyes while he ran his other hand down your body, stopping to cup your sex. You squirmed at the look he gave you when his fingers came away wet. How could you be wet from what he was doing to you?

He began to stroke your folds, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck and letting out a loud groan.

“Why you, you say?” He dipped one of his fingers into you, smirking into your neck as your breath hitched, placing open mouthed kisses along your throat as he began to thrust slowly.

“Because of this.” He punctuated the word by biting into the skin on your collar bone and sucking harshly, making you keen when he inserted another finger. “I’ve dreamt of this~”

You turned your head to the side, refusing to acknowledge the pleasure he was giving to your body when his lips wrapped around one of your nipples; his teeth lightly scraping making you shudder involuntarily. He groaned in response, shifting his heavy-lidded gaze towards your face and releasing your nipple with a pop.

“Oh, no, no, no, my darling~” He quickly withdrew his hand from your cunt hand and gripped your cheeks, forcing your head straight; his nails on his fingers, still wet from your arousal, digging into your skin harshly. You whimpered when your eyes met his, the intensity almost too much for you to bear, “I want you to watch every single thing I do to you.”

He slowly let go of your jaw, dragging his claws lightly down your throat to your breasts, giving them a light squeeze. You flinched, your hands clenched in fists at your side.

“I’ve dreamt of you under me...” He continued; the sentence broken up by wet kisses placed down your body. Your eyes widened, realizing his intentions immediately, but forcing yourself not to look away in fear of what he would do if you did.

“S-stop.” God, you hated how weak you sounded. Tears began to slip down your cheeks as he ventured lower down your body until you could feel his breath right on your cunt. “Please, Hisoka, I-”

A loud growl against your skin killed whatever pleads you had on your lips; the pupil of his eyes blown so wide they nearly swallowed the golden iris. He looked feral.

“I love the way you say my name, Y/N”

A squeal left your throat when you felt his tongue on your slit, your hips bucking on their own accord when the hot muscle dragged from your core up to your aching clit before he latched onto it and sucked harshly; making you toss your head to the side as you squeezed your eyes shut at the burst of pleasure that shot through you, more tears dripping onto the floor.

The breathy moans and growls from Hisoka only added to your reluctant growing arousal as he ate you out like a man starved. His hands gripped you from under your thighs so he could pull you close to his face while holding you down; the sounds coming from his mouth loud and downright lewd as he lapped at the new slick.

“I want you to say my name over, and over again; I want you to scream it so loudly your neighbours can hear exactly who you belong to.”

Your breathing hitched as you felt a familiar tightening beginning to form in your lower stomach. You bucked against him, the last of your resistance starting to die out as your orgasm continued to build. You felt him groan into your core more than you heard him, making you shudder.

“Moan for me darling, don’t hide any of those pretty noises from me.”

You cried out when you felt his fingers back at your entrance, dipping into you with less caution than the first time. You could feel his nails dragging along your walls as he fucked his fingers into you at a steady pace, scratching lightly on your g-spot in a way that should not have felt as good as it did.

“Hisoka!”

“Cum for me, darling, let me hear you~” He purred, suckling on your nub with vigor as he pumped his fingers into you faster.

You came with a chocked sob mixed with a moan, your pussy clamping down on his fingers like a vice, gushing around him. You felt sick as you came down from your high, watching as he released his assault on your clit with a lewd pop, a thin trail of drool connecting his lips to your swollen cunt.

“You’re so good for me, darling.” He cooed. You could only muster up a withering look, your words failing you. This, of course, just made him chuckle as he pushed the grey sweats down his hips, his length springing free and slapping against his stomach. “However, I’d much rather feel you come undone on my cock.”

Your eyes widened... he couldn’t seriously go through with this... could he?

Could he?

“Hisoka wait!”

Your shout made him pause briefly before he kissed his way back up your body, coming to hover just above your lips; that insufferable smirk back on his mouth that shone with your slick. Your face flushed at the sight, and you rolled your head back to the side in shame.

“Please... please don’t...”

Another silence filled the room as he regarded your trembling form pinned beneath him. A spark of hope was reignited in you, his hesitation giving you the courage to bring your hands up, pressing lightly against the bandage on his chest in your attempt to push him away.

That spark was quickly snuffed out when he let out a guttural moan, his eyes rolling back slightly before focusing back on you.

You forgot he liked pain.

“Didn’t I already say, love?” He teased the head of his cock against your swollen clit making you squirm, new tears forming in your eyes from a combination of the stimulation and the hopelessness. Your back arched off the floor and your jaw fell open in a silent scream as he sank into you in a slow, agonizing thrust. He licked a stripe up your neck with a possessive growl, stopping just in front of your ear. “You belong to me.”

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his size before he pulled back and thrust his hips against you harshly, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the room along with your moans and hiccupping sobs.

“Oh fuck, Y/N...” He gasped, his head tilting back in ecstacy, your walls fluttering around him as he hammered your insides; stretching you out in a painfully blissful way.

You loved it, and you hated yourself for it.

“Oohhhh darling, you were mine the first time you treated me.” He grunted, shifting the angle of his hips to penetrate you deeper. You bit your lip, desperately trying to contain the whines leaving your throat with each brush of his cock on the bundle of nerves deep inside of you, his words only making you flush deeper... if that were even possible.

“I would’ve taken you then and there, had you begging and crying under me like you are now.” You felt his dick twitch inside you at his own words and your pussy clenched around him.

God, what was wrong with you?

He growled, and suddenly pulled away from you. Relief flooded your system for a split second before you felt yourself being flipped over, your hips being pulled back and his cock sheathing back inside you with a thrust that made the whines finally spill from you; your arms laying limply next to your head as he resumed to pound into you at a pace that could only be described as inhuman. His balls slapped against your clit each time he bottomed out, making your breath come out in quick, desperate gasps.

“Do you like that, my dear? Knowing that I could’ve done this to you sooner?”

You only groaned in response, the coil in your abdomen beginning to form again. The tears slipped from your eyes as you weakly shook your head. Why did this feel so good? Why did your body react to him like this?

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip when you felt his hand circle around to your clit, rubbing in rough circles that made your eyes roll back into your head.

You couldn’t take it.

You couldn’t help the wanton moan that passed through your lips as you came, your head hanging loosely as your body continued to bounce from the power of his thrusts; your pussy convulsing around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Hmmm~ you didn’t want to cooperate a few minutes ago, look at you now,” He fisted the hair at the base of your skull and pulled you back to his chest, his thrusts never wavering as he spoke into your ear, “coming undone for me a second time.” His chuckle gave way to a breathy moan as his thrusts became more erratic, losing rhythm as he began to slam into you with fever.

“I’m going to fill you up, my dear.” He growled, biting down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, making you cry out when his teeth broke the skin. The sight of your blood making him thrust into you harder and faster. “Then you’ll truly know that you are mine.”

Your moans left you with no restraint, incoherent babbling falling from your lips at the overstimulation. You could no longer think, all your energy focused on the dick that was pistoning in and out of your squelching cunt.

Hisoka’s hips stuttered as he came inside of you, his cock spurting thick hot ropes of cum right against your cervix, coating your walls as he bit down on your neck once more, lazily fucking into you a few more times before he stilled.

Your breathing was ragged as everything slowly came to a stop, the weight of everything crashing over you as your lids dropped with exhaustion. You whined weakly as he pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness now foreign to you. You slumped to the floor, emotional and physical fatigue washing over you as you stared blankly up at the man who had just ruined your trust and your body. Your eyes flickered to the bandage on his chest, a thin line of red beginning to form from your exertions.

Even after all that... you still cared.

Damn him.

He ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at you, a pleased smile on his face as he took in your fucked out form, his dick twitching at the sight.

Oh yes.

He would enjoy playing house with you much more now.

----

Part 1, Part 3

Tag List: @prettycutebunny, @my-child-gaara, @shorkbrian, @luesi, @mynameseri, @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes, @trash-writings

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bee-a-lover · 3 years

Text

I am not completely against the possibility of Kanej having kids; I think it’s possible, but for it to make sense with their characters it would have to:

a.) be far into the future. Years and years from where they are currently in the timeline

b.) their characters would have had to actively been progressing in their healing process across the course of those years, which IS WHAT WE’RE HOPING TO SEE (cough cough SOC 3)

c.) I don’t think their child would be planned. That could mean two things, depending, once again, on where they’ve gotten in their healing process: sudden adoption (which doesn’t seem far-fetched for Ketterdam since the government doesn’t do anything to help its parent-less children) or the kid’s an accident

d.) Either way, Kaz would be the one to have a really difficult time wrapping his head around the thought of him being a parent. Inej might also struggle, but the support of her entire family would help (the kid would have some awesome acrobat grandparents). It wouldn’t really sink in for Kaz until he literally holds his kid for the first time, and then it clicks. He wouldn’t really know how to place the strong emotions he feels at first, but I rly think he would love their child more than he thought capable of himself loving anyone other than Inej

e.) AND THIS ONE IS IMPORTANT: they would move out of Ketterdam right after she (I see them with a daughter) is born, completing Kaz’s character arc because he’s finally leaving the city that he made (almost) everything to him because it took everything from him. Kaz Brekker achieved everything he sought out to do in Ketterdam. The only surprise is, that he now gets to be free at the end. So he sells the Crow Club, the Silver Six, and everything with it. And as he and Inej and their daughter sail away and he watches it disappear on the horizon, the city seems so much smaller than he ever thought.

f.) this is my personal take, but I think they’d join the Suli with Inej’s family in Ravka. It’s a life of movement (I can’t see them settling-down settling down) and Inej gets to raise their daughter the way she was raised, a childhood full of joy and love (that kid would also be a killer acrobat in the future) and Kaz and Inej would go to the ends of the world to keep her safe and protect her.

g.) And just like that, Kaz Brekker is dead. Not actually dead of course (pls, I’m not Leigh Bardugo writing SOC 3 (which better stay a joke)) but he dies when Kaz leaves Ketterdam, in the same way Kaz Rietveld died in the harbor

h.) Kaz and Inej didn’t plan on getting married. They’re already in love, everybody knows it, a ceremony won’t change anything. But Inej’s parents insist on a proper Suli ceremony, and Inej wants to humor them, Kaz is only a tiny bit horrified at the idea, but if Inej is in, so is he

i.) the wedding is small and low-key at the Suli settlement, but of course the guest list includes Jesper, Wylan, their family, everyone’s favorite DILF Colm Fahey (for legal reasons that is a joke), Nina, Hanne, and even Nikolai and Zoya BECAUSE KAZ AND NIKOLAI ARE FRIENDS I DON’T MAKE THE RULES. I also feel like Kuwei would somehow find out and crash the after party because…, he’s Kuwei? And obviously Inej’s parents and Kaz and Inej’s daughter

j.) Kaz hadn’t planned on taking another last name. He’d just been Kaz, but then Inej’s father, who’s conducting the ceremony, refers to him as “Kaz Ghafa” before they make their vows and yeah, that sounds right. He’ll stick with that.

k.) things aren’t perfect after that, but they do their best, for each other, for their daughter, to be people their teenage-selves wouldn’t recognize, would never have expected to be in their future. Their trauma doesn’t just go away. Kaz still finds skin-to-skin contact hard sometimes, but the gloves are long gone. Inej sometimes fears for their daughter because of what happened to her. But for every bad day, there are more good ones, and they’re still capable of getting better

Bonus: they name their daughter Kruge

For legal reasons, that is also a joke (but her middle name is Jordie)

Just…, Kanej happy and at peace. They could use some of that.

OH also, I should mention that this is all after Inej tears down the entire slave trade and Inej has convinced (with help from Queen Zoya of Ravka, King Rasmus and Queen Mila of Fjerda themselves) each country’s government to outlaw and place ample protections against slavery cause c’mon, we all know she could

#six of crows #soc #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa

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floralovebot · 3 years

Note

I really liked your aisha meta about her bonding and i was wondering what you think is her biggest weakness? And the other characters too if that's okay. Thank you:)

Oh thank you!! Hmm I had to think about this one for a second but I'll try to give you some good answers! Though to be fair, I think most of what I listed are things that have already been said aljdhgjladg

I do want to note, I think all of the major characters had room for growth and self-development especially within the first three seasons. We all know that characterization made a huge nose dive after season 4, so I'm not really going to be talking about the later seasons as they aren't super representative of their personalities (however, i will occasionally mention them for certain characters). \

Anyway, onto our beloved characters mental issues and why they should all be in therapy <3

The Winx

Bloom: I think Bloom is actually a very well rounded main character! She has positives and negatives and those don't often conflate with each other (and I think most of her "too perfect" characterization comes from later seasons). Because of that, I had a hard time thinking about what her biggest weakness is because,, she has a few. However, I think something that stays very consistent throughout the series is her escapism. Bloom is a major escapist, especially when she's feeling unworthy. She has a lot on her plate! And a lot of people rely on her, which naturally can lead to some pretty heavy thoughts ("Am I doing the right thing?" "Do I deserve to be the leader?" "What if they're safer without me?"), however those feelings, when they become too much, often leave her feeling like people are truly better off without her. Then she runs off to Gardenia or she shuts people out or she takes on some dangerous mission just to get away from people. Her escapism often leaves everyone, including her, feeling shitty and it would've been nice to see her grow from that.

Stella: Hmmm, so again most of the early characterization gave the characters a couple of weaknesses so I had a hard time thinking of what Stella's biggest one would be. However, something that I've always noticed about Stella that's always made me feel bad, is her extreme I Need To Fit In Or No One Will Love Me attitude. And obviously that goes into her childhood and upbringing, but it's something that stays with her even after meeting the Winx and having all those You're Perfect The Way You Are talks with Bloom. She often changes her personality/attitude/emotions to fit what she thinks other people will like most. But that heavily goes into her insecurities of thinking people only like her because she's pretty or a princess. Stella's a smart girl and she notices how people respond to what she's doing. But when she's changing something about herself to get others to like her and they respond positively to it? That's horrible for her overall self-esteem and to her just confirms her fears that people don't love her for her true self.

Edit: I absolutely don't want to come off as if I'm saying Stella's personality is fake! Here's a further explanation for hers!

Flora: I think some people might disagree with me on this one, but I genuinely believe Flora's biggest weakness is how often she rushes into something. On one hand, it's admirable and shows how strong she is, but on the other hand, it says a lot about how she lets her emotions run her and often doesn't think things through when someone she loves is in danger or she thinks she needs to do something Right Now. Unless someone else prompts it, Flora often doesn't plan or try to think things through rationally. I don't think it's a bad thing to be in tune with your emotions, but it can become a weakness when you only ever think with your heart and what it's feeling at That Moment In Time. Instead of trying to think rationally or make a plan, Flora often just follows her heart immediately, but that can be a bad thing when her heart is hurting and she's not thinking clearly.

Aisha: It's definitely her attitude of needing to appear emotionally strong all the time. Aisha gives more of herself than she receives from others and a lot of that comes from her need to be seen as Reliable and Good. However, that often means she doesn't get the time to sit with how she's feeling or she pushes her emotions down. She doesn't want people to know that she's feeling upset because she doesn't want people to feel bad for her or use their energy to comfort her. Aisha is definitely a "other people have it worse so what happened to me doesn't matter" kind of person and that's often what hurts her the most. She doesn't let herself be vulnerable and often only does so when she truly can't handle it by herself anymore. And I think this heavily goes into her childhood and how she's had to be independent from a very young age. Aisha doesn't know how to let other people in.

Tecna: Hmmm, on one hand I'd like to say it's her internal battle with her logical side vs her emotional side,, so I'm going to. Personally, I think Tecna is a lot better at emotions than she gives herself credit for, and I think that's her biggest weakness. She doesn't give herself any credit when it's something that doesn't come naturally to her. Tecna had to work on being more emotive and reading other people's emotions correctly and by S2 she's already doing so much better than she was, but she refuses to recognize that. Tecna is so stuck in the "what if i'm too logical/not emotional enough and my friends hate me because of it" headspace that she doesn't even see the progess she has made. Honestly, Tecna being too logical/not emotional enough hasn't been a real issue for years and she doesn't even realize that. It's a little ironic actually, she's so caught up in her emotions about being too logical she can't see how far she's come.

Musa: Her trust issues. Personally, I think Musa's biggest weakness is her problem with trusting people. Because she just.. doesn't. Musa has a really hard time letting people in (for rightful reasons) but she once she does let them in, she has a hard time trusting them too. This is most obvious with her relationship with Riven, but it also comes out with the Winx! She's constantly scared that people are going to leave her or that they don't really like her or that they do like her but she's going to end up driving them away and all of that negatively impacts her relationship with others. She just,, doesn't trust people and has an even harder time trusting herself. I think if Musa had been allowed to truly work through that, she would be much happier.

The Specialists

Sky: I think Sky's biggest weakness is pretty obvious! It's that he does not know how to interact with people. I think I'm one of the few people that doesn't actually hate Sky. I hate that, just like the other characters, he had room for improvement and self-realization, which got scrapped almost instantly for Perfect Prince Sky. Sky, like most of the other royal characters, grew up pretty lonely (and his parents are abslute shit). The only other people he would ever talk to are members of his family, other royals, or people who weren't royal but were close enough to it (ie Brandon and even Diaspro depending on which canon you go by). Because of this, Sky has a really hard time interacting with people in a casual setting. He's great in royal settings and all their missions, but that's because he's allowed to and supposed to act all serious and Business Like. When it comes to talking to people in casual settings, he often fails because he doesn't understand "normal" people and he's never been allowed to just,, sort through his own feelings. It would've been amazing to Sky grow from this, because even in the first season you see hints of Sky rejecting royalty and wanting to be normal. MAN I wish Sky got proper characterization, he would've been so much better if he did.

Brandon: Oh man,, I had a really hard time with this one, because Brandon honestly doesn't have a lot of weaknesses? I think something that could be considered a weakness is that,, he's very devoted once he decides he cares about someone. Which isn't bad! But it often puts him in dangerous situations because he wants to save someone. Like anytime Sky gets into trouble, Brandon is for sure right by his side. Or if someone messes with Stella? Brandon's there. And again, this definitely isn't a Bad Thing, but it can put his own life in danger. And in their line of work it often does. However, I do think this is mostly evened out because of Brandon's ability to call for help and think of a plan. He doesn't often just jump into things unless it's absolutely necessary. He's able to think things through clearly and strategize. Sorry anon but I honestly can't think of any Big Weakness for Brandon, because most of his weaknesses are evened out by some positive. (Like, I was going to say he's a bit of a pushover but,, is he? Then I thought well maybe it's because he's ready to die for Sky,, but like. That's his job? Idk man,, any Brandon stans wanna chime in please?)

Timmy: Hmmm I, once again, had some troubles with this one. Timmy has a few weaknesses, mostly in the insecurity region, but I had a hard time figuring out what his Biggest Weakness is. After some thought, I think it's his eagerness to prove himself, specifically when he doesn't need to. I think this definitely evened out in the later seasons once he got some confidence, but in the early seasons Timmy really wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove that he was a good specialist, a good friend, a good partner,, just,, everything. He was really set out to prove that he was capable of things. This often put him in dangerous situations that he couldn't handle or something he could handle but was too nervous to. It didn't help that in early seasons some of the other characters doubted his abilities (cough tecna cough). But again, I think this really evened out by S4 and it's not a big problem anymore.

Riven: Ugh goodness where to start.. I think Riven's biggest weakness is actually a mix of Musa's and Timmy's. Riven has a hard time trusting people, especially himself, and he's constantly trying to prove himself. He wants to be seen as reliable and Good and that's where a lot of his competition with other characters, mostly Sky, comes in. But that heavily mixes with his distrust and hatred toward himself. I think most of his Trying To Prove Himself is actually him trying to prove something to himself. He's constantly looking down on himself and that need to prove and be better than other people is a product of that. And I think that's also why he has problems with letting people in. Obviously, he has some general trust issues, with wondering if people just don't like him and what not, but a lot of it is not trusting himself and not letting people get close to him because of that. Riven's biggest weakness is that he doesn't give himself any credit for the progress he's made and is constantly doubting whether or not he's a good person. And that messes with his relationships a lot because he thinks he's not good enough to be around people and that sparks his need to to prove himself. And even when his friends do try to comfort him or say he's enough, he doubts that too. Riven has a lot of problems but most of them go into how much he hates himself.

Helia: Well, as one of the resident Helia stans, I've thought about this a lot. And I've got to say, his biggest weakness is his complete inability to talk about himself. A lot of people think Helia is really good at talking about emotions, but that's only partially true. He's good at talking about other people's emotions. When it comes to himself,,, he's a mess. Helia is consistently really bad at sharing his feelings and even just general tidbits about his life (evidenced by all the times he does/says something and the others get surprised because they never knew that,, years into their friendship). However, this often strains his relationships with people because they end up thinking he hates them or doesn't trust them or something else. While I have my own issues with the later seasons, S5 did a really good job at focusing on this in the show (when it really only ever got hinted at or shown in the comics). The whole Flora/Helia/Krystal thing was a major product of Helia never sharing anything about his own life and Flora's insecurities over if she's good enough. With the mix of being able to talk to people about their feelings, but never his own, it creates this really awkward situation of people just like,, not knowing things about him and then doubting their relationship, but then not being confident enough to express that because Helia still talks to them about their feelings so he must care about them!! .. but does he? It's this internal struggle of he's obviously a friend but why doesn't he ever share anything about himself?? This is even shown in his relationship with Saladin, a literal family member!

I'm.. gonna stop here for now ajghaljdhglj I'm sorry this got so long! And that some of them were shorter than others..

#i did the specialists too because i wanted to talk about timmy and i would feel bad if i only included him #sorry this got so long but i hope you enjoy nonetheless #let me know your thoughts though! especially if you disagree! as long as youre not rude about it i love to hear what others think about thi #winx club #winx meta #answered #anonymous #i didnt proofread this sorry if theres mistakes ahgdljadg #mine.metas

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lexosaurus · 4 years

Text

Pink Astronaut

This is my secret santa gift for Anectoplasm on discord! Happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy!

Characters: Danny/Paulina Genre: Fluff Word Count: 4549 Summary: To Paulina's dismay, she and Danny Fenton must work together on their English final project.

Read on [ao3] [ffn]

---

It was Lancer’s fault, really.

He assigned the class a partner-project for their final presentation, but being the annoying teacher he was, he had decided it was imperative that the students were assigned to pairs of his choosing. Aka, no working with friends.

Paulina tried her best. Truly, she did. She batted her eyelashes and put on her most polite tone when she said, “Pretty please with extra whipped cream and a cherry on top, can I work with Star instead of Loser Fenton?”

But, to her utter dismay, Mr. Lancer was a brick wall. No amount of wit nor charm could change his rubric, and so Paulina relented in a very much not dramatic final sigh as she resigned herself to be Danny Fenton’s English partner for the coming weeks.

Fenton was...well, he was weird. His parents hunted ghosts, he always slept through class, he was clumsy, and Paulina knew that in middle school Fenton was just like all the other boys who saw her as nothing more than a pretty face.

And that annoyed her to her core. She was a human, damn it! She had her own wishes and dreams and goals in life. Although she wasn’t vocal about it, she wanted to be a journalist when she was older. The kind that made it to shows like 60 Minutes, reporting on amazing stories from all around the world. She wanted to travel, she wanted to meet people, and she wanted to be the best at it.

She was still a long way off from that now though. First, she needed to survive through this stupid English project with that weird nerd who had gone through a not-so-secret crush on her before.

Though, when she looked his way now, Fenton didn’t look all too thrilled to be partnered with her either.

She would have called it odd, but that had been their dynamic for a little over a year now. She guessed that Fenton finally got the hint and dropped his love struck puppy act. Maybe he and Sam had finally confessed their undying love to each other.

It was probably for the best.

Fenton made no move towards her, instead choosing to stare dully into his notebook.

Paulina rolled her eyes and slid from her chair. She strode over to his desk, throwing a hand on her waist and looking down at him with an expression she knew would yield no arguments. “Alright, my house or yours?”

“Huh?” Fenton said, recognizing a little too late that she was there.

“For the project? The one we were just assigned? Hello, Earth to Commander Fenton! My house or yours today?”

“Today?” Fenton blinked. “You wanna start today?”

Paulina narrowed her eyes. “Why, got something better to do?”

“Well—it’s just—”

“I’ll come over at four. I’ll be at cheer practice till then. If you want anything from Starbucks, just text me before then. I know Manson has my number, you can get it from her.”

She left him sitting dumbly in his chair. No one was getting in the way of her and that A, especially not some nerd who couldn’t even bother to care about school.

But, to Paulina’s surprise, Fenton actually opened the door for her when she showed up to his house that afternoon. Half of her expected him to blow her off, just ghost her and leave her to do all the work. And yet, he brought her into his kitchen, got out his notebook, and got right to work.

It was unnerving to see him so studious. She remembered Fenton as a nerd in middle school, but everyone knew about the absolute nose-dive his grades took once he got to high school. It wasn’t exactly a secret, what with him skipping class every other day.

The duo parted ways with a promise to meet up again over the weekend. Again, to Paulina’s pleasant surprise, he actually texted her to confirm their plans. And when Paulina stepped into the Starbucks that Saturday afternoon, Danny was already sitting at a table waiting for her, his notebook out and the project rubric between his fingers.

This much good luck was sure to run out, but Paulina just hoped that Fenton could last another few weeks before he inevitably dropped the ball.

Except, that never happened. Each time they set up plans to work on their presentation, Fenton would show up, he would focus on the work, and they’d part ways with plans to reconvene later. It was uncanny. It was so unlike everything Paulina had come to know of Fenton through these months.

And Paulina wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was who Fenton really was.

Under all those disciplinary actions, the dropped beakers, the tardies, the unfinished assignments and failed grades, if this was hidden underneath.

So then that begged the question: why didn’t he show this side of himself more? Why was he failing if he was clearly capable of doing the work?

And so Paulina sat there, just a week before they were set to give their presentation, scrutinizing Fenton’s features as he recited a passage from the book they were analyzing. She noted the bags under his eyes, the bruise on his cheek, the way his face seemed to tighten every time he coughed.

He had arrived a few minutes late that day, and she remembered how he entered the classroom, his gate just a little too stiff to be natural.

Someone had hurt Fenton, Paulina realized. Someone had beat him up.

For reasons she didn’t know, hot anger flashed over her. Someone beat up Danny, a kid who was clumsy and could be a bit slow on the uptake, but someone who Paulina had come to understand was a rather kind and gentle classmate.

Yet someone didn’t care.

So the next day, maybe she stormed up to Dash a little too aggressively to demand, “What the hell did you do to Fenton?”

There was Dash, right on queue with his cocky laugh and a, “That nerd had it coming to him!”

“Are you kidding me?” Paulina yelled. “A week before our English final presentation and you punch Fenton across the face? Are you stupid?”

Dash’s smile dropped instantly, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Paulina, I didn’t—”

“You know how much this class matters to me, Dash! You know I wanna move up to honors next year! I can’t do that if you’re giving my English partner a goddamn concussion while we’re preparing to present!”

“Paulina!” Dash grabbed her arm.

“No!” Paulina ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me, and don’t fucking sabotage—”

“I didn’t beat Fenton up!” Dash shouted.

Paulina’s eyes narrowed.

Dash held his hands up in a surrender. “I swear I didn’t beat him up. Ask Kwan if you don’t believe me. Honestly, I haven’t touched him in months. The—the coach told me that if I did well in school this year, I’d probably get recruited to college. I didn’t want to risk Fenton messing that up. I swear!”

Paulina stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to crack. But Dash’s panicked face held.

“Whatever.” She whipped around. “Tell your stupid friends to keep their hands off my project partner.”

“Consider it done!”

Paulina stormed off, ignoring the wide stares from her peers and the whispers of, “Did she just defend Fenton?”

She tried to block them out. They weren’t important. Her grades were important, her future was important, but those idiots? No, they meant nothing to her.

That afternoon, Danny was early. He was sitting there in the empty classroom when Paulina walked in, his head down to his paper, and didn’t even look up when Paulina gave her cheerful, “Hello!”

Well...that was weird. Sure, a few weeks ago, Danny mostly ignored her cheerful greetings in favor of getting ahead on the project, but Paulina liked to think that a mutual respect, or—god forbid—a friendship had been forming between the duo.

“Oof, cold shoulder? So not your speed, Danny,” Paulina said, plopping down to her seat.

Danny tensed, “I...uh, sorry. I’m tired.”

“Sheesh, alright.” Paulina slid her notebook out. “So we were working on the symbolism slide of the powerpoint, right?”

“Yeah,” Danny passed his notebook over to her. “I started parsing through the book at lunch today and found some good passages. Take a look.”

Paulina went to study the paper, but something else caught her eye.

Something on his arm.

Something that looked like a burn.

“Danny?” Paulina stared wide-eyed at the space of molten skin between his sleeve and hand. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

“Oh, I—” Danny slipped his arm under the desk. “I, uh, sorry. You see—”

“Whoa!” Paulina only caught a glance of his face before he ducked down again, but that split-second was enough. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paulina saw red. “Oh, that idiot! I’m gonna kill him!”

Danny looked up, the multicolored patchwork of skin on his face finally fully visible to Paulina. “Kill who?”

“Oh, look at you! That asshole!”

Fenton winced. “Am I...am I missing something here?”

“I’m gonna kill Dash!”

“...Dash?”

“I told him this morning to keep his hands off you! I made that asshole promise to me, and I told him to pass the message along to his stupid friends too!”

Something in Danny’s expression softened. “You told off Dash?”

“Well of course I did!” Paulina said hotily. “You’re my project partner! What kind of person would I be if I let you get hurt?”

“Oh well…” A smile quirked on Danny’s lips. “Thanks for that, but it wasn’t Dash.”

“Well then who was it? I’ll kill them.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“You’re right, death would be too generous. I’ll just destroy their reputation instead!”

A bemused look overtook Danny’s face. “Yeah, I have no doubt you would.”

“Tell me right now, Fenton. Tell me who did this and I’ll make them pay. You won’t have to worry about them ever again once I’m finished with them.”

“Oh, I…” The smile fell from Danny’s lips. “It wasn’t anyone. I just...fell.”

“You what?” Paulina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“Yeah, you know how clumsy I am.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. He laughed awkwardly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just—you know. I was walking in the hall, fell down some stairs, hit the stair rail at the bottom. Just typical weirdo Fenton stuff! Nothing you need to destroy anyone over.”

“Don’t play with me. You didn’t fall.”

“I did fall though! It was...yeah, you know how it is. I was walking and talking at the same time and just slipped and fell! Ah, stupid Fenton, am I right? Just always...falling.”

Paulina’s glare was hollow. “How dumb do you think I am, Danny?”

Danny froze, his rambling stuttering off into a tense silence. “What?”

“I said—” Paulina rose from her chair. “—just how dumb do you think I am?”

“Uh, sorry. I’m sorry. Look, I think we may have gotten on the wrong topic here.”

“No!” Paulina slammed her hand down on Fenton’s notebook. “This little tirade? This sham you’ve been pulling for the past two years? It’s bullshit, Danny, and you know it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do know! You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Paulina hissed. “We’ve been working together for weeks now, and you think you can just sit here and say you fell? To me?”

“Well, sue me, Paulina!” Danny snapped. “Why do you even care, anyways? We’re not exactly friends.”

“Because you’re my project partner! Your grade is my grade, idiot!”

“Gee, I’m glad you only care about people when it affects your grade.” Danny shoved his notebook into his bag. “What an amazing quality to have.”

Paulina stepped back as if she’d been slapped. “That’s not true!”

Danny ignored her reaction, instead choosing to angrily zip up his backpack. “In case you haven’t noticed, your boyfriend’s been beating me up since we were five. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to care now, but if you want something to be mad at, maybe try being mad at the years of shit I’ve taken from you and your friends.”

Paulina stood there seething as Danny pushed past her and stocked off into the hallway, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

There was the Fenton she’d come to know in high school, this was the Fenton she remembered. The one who avoided questions, who put himself down to avoid suspicion, who left in the middle of class without saying anything, who no one could rely on.

But, perhaps more now than ever, Paulina could see just how much of a sham this whole act was.

Just how much he was using this face to protect himself.

But from what? From who?

Paulina tried not to dwell too much on the bruises, especially since they were gone the next day and didn’t reappear for the rest of the week. Of course, Dash swore up and down that he had nothing to do with Fenton’s appearance, and Paulina believed him. Dash could be a bit bullheaded, but he was still one of her closest friends.

For the remaining week they had to put their presentation together, Danny kept to himself, and so did Paulina. Whatever semblance of a friendship they’d built had disintegrated, and both parties seemed content to let it fall.

It made sense, logically speaking. Paulina was popular, Fenton wasn’t. Paulina was an extrovert, Fenton was an introvert. Paulina thrived in attention, Fenton shied away from it. They were like oil and water, a friendship just wasn’t possible.

The presentation day came, and the two spoke with confidence that could only have come from weeks of preparation. Paulina couldn’t help but glow under Mr. Lancer’s impressed nod. Their high marks from the project were enough to fulfill Paulina’s recommendation to the honors English course for the next fall.

And then the school year came to a close and finally, after months of hard work, they could finally relax.

But not before they celebrated first.

One of Dash’s good friends, Dale, had taken it upon himself to host the massive end of the school year party for the rising junior class at Casper High that year. His parents, being the weird sort of chill parents they were, offered up their lake house with the promise that there would be no drinking and driving.

The teens were ecstatic.

Everyone—everyone—went to the party. Jocks, nerds, band geeks, theatre kids, every clique was represented at the lake house. And why wouldn’t they come? It was the end of the school year celebration! A time to rejoice in having survived another round of homework, tests, quizzes, and essays.

It was also a time where Paulina was once again reminded that yes, the theatre kids could in fact go shot-to-shot with the football team.

Fenton was there with his little group, but Paulina paid them no mind. This wasn’t the time to be worried about him, nor was it the time to feel any sort of guilt at the way their budding friendship just collapsed. She had her friends, why add another?

And it was just preposterous to imply that she missed Fenton.

Because she didn’t.

And yet, when the night was drawing to a close, Paulina somehow managed to find herself down by the lake where a skinny, black haired teen was sitting alone.

She stood behind him, unsure if she wanted to initiate contact. He’d made it clear from their last argument that he still held years of resentment towards her and her friends, and Paulina knew from experience that all that resentment couldn’t go away in one alcohol-filled night.

She turned to walk away, but something stopped her. Before she could question what she was doing or why, she found herself sitting down on the damp grass next to him.

“What are you doing out here?” Paulina asked.

“Oh, uh, hey Paulina! Fancy seeing you here.” Danny gave her a small wave.

“You too.” Paulina stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. “Some party, right?”

“Yeah, Dale was really nice to host this.”

“He’s a great guy. His parents too.”

“I bet.” Danny said. “How are your friends holding up?”

“Well, let’s see. Star just spent a half hour trying to convince me that aliens exist, and Dale’s currently comforting Kwan who saw a video of a puppy rescue on the side of the road and started crying, so I’d say they’re holding up pretty well.”

Danny guffawed. “No way!”

“I swear!” Paulina laughed. “This isn’t even the first time something like this has happened either. I swear, every other time we drink, Kwan always ends up in a corner somewhere watching animal videos on his phone and crying at how precious the animals are and ‘please, Paulina, can’t we just adopt one?’ He’s gonna be the death of me one of these days.”

Danny giggled, his laugh light and airy. Paulina watched him, amazed that they were able to just start talking again as if their fight had never happened.

“So what about you?” she asked. “What happened to your clan?”

“Sam had to drive Tucker home. He got too overconfident in pong.”

She snorted. “Dash is the same. He’s always like, ‘one more round, I’m gonna crush it this time’ and then twenty minutes later I find him asleep in a bathtub or something.”

“Dash drunk sleeping in a bathtub? Oh, that’s a sight I’d like to see.”

“I can assure you that photos exist.”

“The perfect blackmail.” Fenton shot her a grin. “Remind me to get one of Tucker next time he does something stupid.”

“And what makes you think you won’t be right there on the floor with him?” Paulina sassed.

“Hah! You’re probably right!” His smile fell, and he looked at her questioningly. “Hey, will your boyfriend be okay with you out here with me?”

“Oh, Dash? He’s...actually not my boyfriend.”

“Wait, what?” Danny jolted upright. He spun around to face her. “But I thought—”

“Yeah, everyone does. But we’re not dating.”

“Then why don’t you say something? Squash all the rumors?”

Paulina averted her gaze back onto the lake. It was a gorgeous night. Stars speckled the sky in a spectacular display, illuminating the Milky Way behind them. Amity Park was too industrious to see the galaxy, and Paulina couldn’t help but marvel at its sight.

It was gorgeous. Vast. It seemed to never end. She remembered reading somewhere that the Milky Way could only be seen if there was no moon out.

Luck must have been on her side that night.

“Unless...you don’t want to.” Danny’s voice dawned a tone of realization. “But why?”

“I got tired of it all,” she admitted, her honesty surprising herself. “Guys only wanted to talk to me because they thought if they were nice enough, I would get in their pants or something. I got accused of friendzoning more people than not. Honestly, it was so annoying. I felt everyone saw me as some stupid object. So when the rumors started going around this year that Dash and I were dating, and a lot of guys in our grade started backing off, I just...didn’t fight it. I thought maybe finally everyone would see me as a person. Maybe people would take me seriously.” Her gaze dropped. “I don’t know if it worked, but at least now people don’t see me as some sort of prize so much anymore.”

Danny was silent for a moment, and Paulina immediately regretted her admission. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening her lips, but she doubted Fenton of all people cared. They weren’t even friends.

One side of her wanted to get up and leave, go back to her friends inside the house, but the other side of her was too embarrassed to move.

“That makes sense, honestly,” Danny finally responded.

A wave of relief washed over her.

“And I’m sorry that there was a time where I couldn’t see past your looks too. I was young, but that’s still not an excuse.” He shifted. “I’ve had some...things happen the past year, and they’ve really taught me a lot about judging a book by its cover.”

“What kinds of things?” Paulina said, hoping her voice didn’t betray too much curiosity.

There went that hand behind his neck again. He was nervous, Paulina noted.

“Oh! Uh...it’s a long story, but I just wanted to say that I understand. I get what it feels like to be judged based on surface-level stuff. I mean, Paulina, you’re really smart. I don’t know if I told you this, but I’m really glad we ended up partners on that English project. I would have been so screwed with anyone else.”

“Thanks, Danny,” she said, trying to fight the blush that she knew was tinting her cheeks. “I’m sorry for being nosy at the end there. I didn’t mean to corner you like that. It was really stupid of me to pry when you obviously didn’t feel like talking.”

“No!” he exclaimed “No, don’t apologize! I was just being sensitive. Honestly, I knew I looked like shit.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Look, I didn’t fall obviously. I wasn’t trying to play you, I just panicked. But...I’m okay now, really.”

He looked at her, and Paulina noted how his blue eyes seemed to dance under the light of the stars. How he sat up straighter, his shoulders rolled back and head held high. How yes he was thin, but not scrawny like he was back in freshman year of high school. He seemed toned, lithe, almost like a gymnast.

Danny had definitely grown up in the past two years, but then again, so had she.

“I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m also glad I got to be your English partner too,” she said.

They sat by the lake watching the stars until the chill of the crisp spring air began to set in Paulina’s bones. She left Danny in favor of the warm house, but not without saying, “I’ll text you sometime.”

The summer came, and the ever so slightly intoxicated promise to hang out slipped Paulina’s mind. After all, she had months of sleep to catch up on.

Fortunately for her, Danny remembered.

It was a silly text, a meme about Shakespear. Paulina responded with the appropriate emojis, and tried to convince herself that the smile she wore was due to the funny image, and had nothing to do with the boy who sent it.

And a week later, he sent another one. This time, Paulina asked to grab a coffee with him. Catch up.

To her surprise, Danny agreed. They met up at the Starbucks and what Paulina thought would only be a quick catch-up session turned into a three hour long hangout.

Despite his awkward demeanor, Danny was rather talkative. Especially when the topic revolved around space. Apparently, he wanted to work for NASA someday. He said it came from a childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, but overtime his interests shifted into rocket design and engineering. It helped that—according to Danny—his dad had built the equivalent of an ecto-rocket in his basement.

Paulina confessed that she wanted to work for 60 Minutes someday as a journalist. She dreamed of traveling around the world, collecting stories and meeting people. She explained that as a kid, she used to have to travel around the world for her dad’s work before he finally settled in Amity Park. And although she’d been living in Amity for years now, a part of her still missed those days where she was constantly exposed to new countries, languages, and cultures.

Danny listened attentively, reacting at the appropriate times and pressing for questions whenever she would trail off. Even though he had a reputation of never paying attention to teachers, he seemed to genuinely enjoy listening to her.

Eventually they parted ways, but they promised to hang out again.

And again they did.

And again.

Again.

There were some topics that Danny seemed to skirt around, such as why he sometimes would show up bruised, or why he seemed to struggle to stay in class despite his dreams of working for a prestigious agency like NASA.

But Paulina was willing to ignore those demons because she liked Danny, and she didn’t want to say anything that would push him away. And, despite their differences, he seemed to like her back.

Summer drifted to fall, the leaves started to turn, and soon it was too cold to hangout outside.

Which was how they found themselves here, in Danny’s room, laying on Danny’s floor watching Youtube videos, their math homework long since abandoned beside them.

It was a nerdy video, one about bizarre planets that existed in space. One that Paulina would never have watched on her own, but Danny seemed positively riveted at.

His eyes were bright and attentive, and every so often he’d point to the screen and go, “Look!” as if Paulina wasn’t watching the same video.

It was...adorable.

His excitement rivaled a child on Christmas. And as interesting as the video was to watch, Danny was even more so.

The video ended, but Paulina hardly noticed. All she could see was the grin on Danny’s lips, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the way his hair sat on his head like a soft cloud.

“So? What did you think?” Danny asked.

“Cute,” Paulina responded. “You’re cute.”

Danny blinked, his mouth turning to a little “o” shape as red tinged his cheeks. He started to stutter, to try to brush Paulina off, but she held onto his shoulder and said, “Danny, I think you’re cute.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyes wide. “I think you’re cute too.”

Paulina closed the gap between them, closing her eyes. His lips felt soft against hers, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hands trailed up to his hair, and she curled her fingers through his soft hair.

He was gentle, as if he were afraid to hurt her, and his skin felt cool against her own. Secretly, Paulina had always loved that about Danny, the fact that his body temperature seemed to run lower than normal. And now she could cherish this all to herself.

Danny’s hand wrapped around her back, gently pressing her closer. His touch was electric, and Paulina could have melted right there. She pressed further against him, deepening the kiss.

They stayed in each other’s arms, enjoying the moment for just a few moments longer before Danny pulled back. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling, and said, “You’re beautiful.”

There were some things Paulina didn’t understand about Danny. There were some things he was still closed off about, things he didn’t want to speak about. And eventually, Paulina would bring those things up, she would get answers. Eventually, she would uncover all the secrets, all the layers to the enigma that made up Danny Fenton.

But right now?

Right now she was just going to enjoy the moment.

#danny phantom #pink astronaut #fluff #romance #phicc #my writing #paulina #secret santa

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w-k-smith · 3 years

Text

Do Not Break Faith with Us Who Die, or We Shall Not Sleep

So I heard through the grapevine Din is being haunted by the darksaber or something?

Well here’s my contribution.

I wrote and edited it all in one sitting...somehow. I actually really like it! And I hate everything I write!

Bonus points if you know what inspired the title. (The poem “In Flanders Fields.”)

Summary: Din is possessed by the manda of slain warriors that resides in the darksaber. He is unable to distinguish between enemy and ally. The only way to heal him is to figure out how put Mandalore’s unquiet dead at peace.

Rating: T (violence, blood, possession, loss of bodily control)

Words: 1091

Half of the planet Mandalore is barren. Some people live there, in settlements and cities that have been dragged from more fertile places, but nothing grows from the grit and bedrock. Half of the planet Mandalore is a battle scar. Some of the bombs that tore away the soil and stripped the forests were dropped centuries ago. Some, less than 20 years. To most ears, silence sits where there were once marching songs and explosions.

But Din hears them. They started as whispers when he held the darksaber, now it is a constant noise, and he can’t unwrap his fingers from the hilt, and the black blade overshadows any light around it. An outside force drags Din through Keldabe. He can’t stop. He has tried. When he has channeled all his will toward regaining power over his own body, the noise has quieted. His own thoughts become clear.

He crossed paths with Bo-Katan. She sensed the danger, but was wrong about the source.

“Why are you moving like that? Are you injured? Talk to me, Mand’alor,” she said, and for once she didn’t say it sarcastically.

“Bo...” Din rasped. Forming the words he wanted to say was like pushing a starship up a hill. “Run.”

And then he slid beneath the darkness, and and the darkness slashed at her with the darksaber. Bo-Katan deflected with her vambraces just in time, She couldn’t stop Din’s free hand from grabbing her by the throat, and tossing her against the wall with the strength of more than one warrior. With the strength of dead armies who don’t know their battles are over.

Din can’t let go of the darksaber.

He knows it has nothing to do with the boxy hilt, which is just a convenient container for the energy that really makes up the weapon. He is haunted, possessed by the souls inside the blade, the manda of all the Mandalorians who died violent deaths on this planet since the darksaber became the symbol of its leadership.

“You’re our Mand’alor,” the ghosts tell him. “Direct our campaigns. Find our enemies. Lead our souls.”

Din tries to tell them he can’t, that this isn’t what Mandalore needs, that they have more undying passion and fury than one human’s body can contain. He struggles to unclench his fingers, to relax a single muscle. But his role here is not a choice.

“Rally our soldiers. Stoke our glory. Ready the warships. Sharpen the knives. Prepare our children. Avenge our dead.“

Din hears distant sounds through the cacophony. Their meaning doesn’t register until a few seconds after he hears them. He is a passenger in his own body. His feet don’t touch the ground. Blood as warm as life flows out of his nose and turns cold on his lips. When he speaks, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he feels his throat getting raw.

“Dank ferrik, what happened to the Mand’alor?”

“Be careful! He’s stronger than he used to be! Don’t try to face him one-on-one!”

“Where is he bleeding from?”

“He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know who you are. I don’t think he even realizes he’s hurting anyone. Help me pin him down or stay out of the way!”

“How long has he been like this, Bo-Katan?”

“Too long, obviously. Can your Jedi magic help him or what? It’s a yes or no, Skywalker.”

“I can try. But just because this came from a lightsaber doesn’t mean it’s not Mandalorian in origin.”

Weight. Struggle. Trying to rise from the ground only for something to pound him back down again. He can’t let go of the darksaber.

“Bo, and Mr. Skywalker, sir, he’s been saying some things, and though he sounds like roaring rancor when he does -”

“Not now, Koska!”

“Please, let her speak.”

“Haven’t you heard what he’s saying, Bo? He shouted something about advancing on Cin Cerar by daybreak. Cin Cerar was an old colony that was burned to the ground 200 years ago! And then he said, follow Tarre Vizla, and then avenge the Purge. Some of the bloodiest moments in our people’s history!”

“I understand what you’re saying, but how the hell does that tell us what to do?”

Din’s eyes throb as they roll back in his skull. The world becomes darkness. The souls in the darksaber get even louder.

“The darksaber was made by a Jedi who was long, long before my time, or even my masters’. And it has been wielded mostly by Mandalorians. But it is still a lightsaber. The Force flows through it, as the Force flows through all living things, and things that were once living. Does your culture have ghost stories, Bo-Katan?”

“I - not exactly...”

“Or anything that would explain why your dead would be so restless?”

“Good grief, Skywalker, we’re Mandalorians! Do you think we give up a fight just because we’re dead? What it takes to make an army of Mandalorians -“

Din’s body bucks, and his spine folds in half. No matter what the darksaber wants him to do, he can’t go on like this. The last part of him that is still him thinks of his son. If Din dies, he knows Luke will take care of him, do his best to protect him, though the idea of never seeing his child again hurts Din’s heart in a way his own impending death doesn’t. Mandalore itself will be in Bo-Katan’s irritable but capable hands. If he has to let go to keep others safe, he can let go.

And then he hears something that lets him know he’s truly lost touch with reality. Bo-Katan is close, like she’s kneeling next to his head, and she’s singing.

Her voice is low and hesitant, but he recognizes the song. It’s a lullaby. A Mandalorian lullaby, half Mando’a and half Basic, meant to soothe an upset child back to sleep.

You can rest, verd’ika, because the battle is won. You can dream, verd’ika, because your enemies have gone away.

Verd’ika. Little soldier. A soft but ironic song, meant for a child too small to hold a blaster, much less go to war.

Koska is the first to join Bo-Katan. Then a few more pick up the song, the other Night Owls, their voices echoing in their helmets. Soon Din hears a whole crowd of people singing. Even Luke picks up the song, stumbling a little over the Mando’a pronunciation. When they reach the end, they start right over, in an unyielding loop.

Soon, the voices are louder than the souls in the darksaber. Din’s strained muscles relax. He can see out his visor again, and he’s looking up at the twilight sky over Keldabe, Concordia waxing overhead. He gasps, and stops speaking, his strained vocal chords finally getting a break. His hand trembles, then springs open all at once. The hilt of the darksaber falls away. He coughs and shakes, like his body is trying to clear itself of what invaded it. But he’s free.

The music stops.

“Din,” Bo-Katan says. Not “Mand’alor.” If he didn’t know better, he’d guess her concern was genuine. “Give us a sign, Din. Anything. You don’t even have to speak. Just let us know you’re you.”

“My son?” he croaks. It hurts to talk.

“He’s with Axe, safe and far, far away from here. He didn’t see a thing.”

“Did I - is anyone hurt?”

“A few nasty bruises here and there and one broken wrist, but that’s all. Give us a little credit.”

“Oh.” He breathes in and out, relishing the control. “I have to -”

The gentlest pressure on his shoulder. “No,” Bo-Katan says. “Lie back. You’ve done your part. Rest. You’re no use dead, Mand’alor.”

He wants to sit up, to apologize, to try to fix what damage he’s done. But the urge to collapse into himself is too great. He slips into darkness, but it’s comforting darkness, full of the dreams you dream when your enemy has gone away.

#star wars #the mandalorian #haunted din #din is haunted #din is possessed #din djarin #darksaber #din haunted #Bo-Katan Kryze #mandalore #this fan fiction is brought to you by: My Depression #My Depression: life sucks so just go write angsty fan fiction

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years

Text

Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part IV)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,429

Warnings/Tags: @tiktoktheclockisticking Bullying, Language, ANGST CITY, Alcohol, Side Iruka x Reader, Fem!Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I’m fully expecting to get messages in my inbox that range drastically in forcefulness. Perhaps a “how dare you” or two.

You stood outside of Shushu-ya, almost as if you expected to be told to come in. A silly notion. With a heavy sigh, you clenched the warped gift in your hands, starting to regret the shoes you wore among other things. But you know you couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t miss Iruka’s birthday. Your reluctant hand grasped the door and before you could chicken out, you heaved it open.

The group was easy to spot, even in Shushu-ya’s dim lighting. Everyone gathered around the bar. A few people sat in a large, open booth. The crowd made you nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of relief. You weren’t the first one there. Iruka spotted you immediately and waved you over. You took a sharp inhale before forcing yourself across the restaurant with a smile. You were, at the very least, glad to see him.

Iruka got up from his spot at the end of the extensive, circular seating and greeted you warmly. Knowing him, he sat at the end just to see people come in the door. He extended his arms to you in a hug. You happily embraced him. It had been quite some time since you got to spend any quality time with your friend. You handed him his present.

“As usual, you’re always so thoughtful.” Iruka pursed his lips, a sentimental expression coming upon him. Even still, the corners of his lips turned upward into that classic Iruka grin. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday, Iruka. Of course I’m going to get you something nice.”

Iruka motioned for you to sit down and carefully placed your gift in the pile he had accumulated. You took a seat among two ninjas who you only knew by name. Iruka sat down next to who you were fairly sure you recognized as Kakashi of the Sharingan. The mask made it difficult to tell. You took your place next to Might Guy, the Leaf’s Green, Taijutsu Beast. You looked over to Iruka and wondered how he made such powerful friends. You supposed it was hard to not be acquainted with any famous shinobi in Konoha. Perhaps that’s what happened when you weren’t afraid to talk to people. You spied a few more of your colleagues around the bar, including your teammates from the last mission you took. They didn’t seem particularly pleased about your presence, but no one was going to impulsively make a fuss in front of Iruka.

You kept your head down and that’s where it stayed. The conversation went, for the most part, without you. You ordered a water quietly. You weren’t the type to drink, especially when you were as on edge as you were in this particular setting. The waiter set down your glass, making a sort of a sour face. You stared at the clear liquid, supposing that not many ordered water from a bar.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” You looked up into Kakashi’s intense eye. “You know you’re not on the clock, right?” He chuckled and you nervously laughed with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” Iruka rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own drink. His kind gaze found yours. “You can do whatever you want, just know that the tab is already taken care of.” He looked past you and waved towards the bar. The bartender waved back.

“No, no. I completely understand!” Guy wrapped an arm around you, holding you a bit too close for the volume of his voice. You immediately let go of your drink. Your eyes went wide as he shook you with every word. “You gotta watch out for that hangover! Very smart! I commend you!” Kakashi tsked, tilting his head towards Iruka.

“Such a bad host, letting her sit next to Guy like that.” Iruka laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess the seat was open for a reason.” Guy pouted at the discourse across the table, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Nonsense! Tease me all you like but I just know that… uh…” He turned to you with an outstretched hand and as much embarrassment as Might Guy was capable of. “What was your name again?” You took his much larger hand in yours and spoke your name, realizing that you hadn’t prior. He immediately shouted your name as if to commit it to memory, shaking you even harder than before. His shout got the attention of the rest of the booth and you suddenly your self consciousness skyrocketed. “—and we’re going to be best friends by the time the night is over! What do you think? You down for a party?” And suddenly you were expected to respond. You glanced around nervously.

“Um, yeah. Sure thing… I just think it’s really nice how everyone’s together.” Despite your response, you still felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Sweat began to bead on your brow and your palms. You crossed your legs. “I feel like everyone’s always on missions so it’s nice to be among friends. And um, I can drink to that.” You glanced around the table once more, to Guy, to Kakashi, and then Iruka. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I couldn’t say it better myself.” You raised your water weakly.

“Happy Birthday, Iruka.” Iruka raised his glass of sake and a roar went around the booth and extended to the bar. Someone hastily ordered a round of shots for the whole group. They came quickly, likely due to whatever likely large tip Iruka gave to the bartender.

One slid across the hard surface over to you. You gripped it between your fingers. The alcohol went down your throat with a steady burn. You let out a gasp with a bat of your eyes. The aftertaste of the ethanol burned your nasal cavity. Kakashi let out a deep laugh. Guy patted you hard on the back causing you to cough. Iruka smiled, ordering another round. You took another shot. People filtered in the door. And as the night went on, the three of you took to greeting Iruka’s guests along with him. The party crew quickly overtook the bar. A dull roar overtook Shushu-ya.

More words spilled from your mouth than you thought ever would in one sitting. Your three colleagues listened to you intently, jovially, and exchanged stories of their own. A small crowd gathered around your booth, members flitting from the bar and back. And for once in your life, people actually listened to you. You told your stories animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis. You took in the smiles around you, tales of missions and edgy impressions flying from your lips. Distracted, you hardly noticed the looks exchanged by your old teammates as they leaned against the low back of the booth.

“And I said, ‘You don’t need a rag, you need a towel’!” All those gathered around you burst out in hysterics. You felt the low rumble of Guy next to you. Iruka couldn’t pick his head up from the table. Kakashi yanked him up by his collar, revealing Iruka’s red, cackling expression. Kakashi snorted, dropping the cloth under his hand to cover his own face as he mocked his longtime friend. Joyful tears were still welled in your eyes when a slender hand clamped onto your shoulder.

You looked behind you only to become face to face with the kunoichi from your team. Her ever prevalent scowl remained plastered to her lips but they swiftly upturned into a sickly sweet smile.

“Hey, why don’t you tell everyone about our last mission? Or should I say, your last mission.” Your eyes widened and a chill coursed down your spine, remembering her unforgiving grasp on your hair following your meeting with the Hokage. You clenched your fists underneath the table, balling up the fabric of your clothing. What did she want from you? She crinkled her nose at you smugly. “Shy all of the sudden? That’s okay, I can tell it.” You heard Kakashi clap his hands together. You jumped.

“I’m always down for a good mission story,” He admitted eagerly. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, this one’s not very interest—” Another hard slap on your shoulder. Her nails dug into your shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think they’ll all find this very interesting.” The kunoichi settled into her spot behind you, shifting her weight as she leaned forward. With a finger, she pointed out your two other team members. “See we were assigned with this one to find a scroll in a territory suspected of being owned by Orochimaru. ‘Cause she’s a wonder at blending in, right? That’s what we were told. And of course you know how these things go. Of course we find someone. Some bitch of Orochimaru—”

And as she described it, you could remember the scene vividly. Your teammates were reckless in their fighting and overall poor choices for a stealth mission. Flashy jutsu corrupted the frame of the underground system. The walls began to crack and shake. Your enemy had been caught off guard and outnumbered. Seeming to be already injured, there was only so much he could do to fight back. That was how you met Kabuto Yakushi.

“And so she doesn’t even warn us that the tunnel is, like, about to collapse. Some freak earthquake or something. So the enemy is knocked out cold and we’re running and running to try to find a way out and—”

You dove towards him. You didn’t know what drew you towards him in the first place but that’s what you did. As your team left without you, you tried your best to save the young ninja who had to only be as old as you. You tried to drag him but either you were too frail or he was too heavy. Your second option. Your hands ignited in healing jutsu, flickering on and off. You were by no means a healer, but your only thought in your panic was to get him awake. And as the maze of tunnels imploded around you, your world went black.

“So we don’t see her for days. You know, we think she’s dead. So in the meantime, we check out the other places on our list. Nada. We’re about to completely give up and then, wouldn’t you know, this one shows up having spent almost a week in enemy territory holding the exact thing we were looking for. Zero scratches and she apparently ‘doesn’t remember’ anything about it. Don’t you think that’s funny?” The kunoichi motions to your other teammates.

“I remember it being very funny,” One huffs, arms crossed. The small surrounding crown had gone silent. You dared to look across the table. Kakashi sat with his arms on the table, wordless. Iruka pursed his lips, equally expressionless. He cleared his throat. An awkward overtone laced the atmosphere.

“Well I think that’s enough of that—”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Almost there, though, I promise.” The kunoichi held up her hand. “‘Cause wouldn’t you know it? When we got back to the village, we found out that the scroll was a fake.”

“Well,” You squeaked, “Later we did find out that it was authentic after all—”

“But that was later,” She snapped. She ruffled your hair roughly, giving your head a slight push as she finally took her hands off of you. “Still doesn’t explain where you got it from.” She leaned in towards your ear. “Traitor.”

“Okay that’s enough.” Iruka stood from his seat. He extended his arm towards the door. “You three have clearly had too much to drink. I think it’s time for you to go home.” The kunoichi scoffed.

“We haven’t had too much of anything,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes and opened her mouth to say more. Guy turned with the most serious expression you had seen from him all night.

“He’s giving you an out. I suggest you take it.” He told her and apparently, that’s all it took for them to leave.

Iruka apologized for your team’s behavior but said nothing more about it for the rest of your time present. Most of the partygoers stuck to the bar now. Everything was off and you knew it would be as long as you were there. Your friends could hardly look you in the eye properly. You remained for a little while longer, starting to feel dreadfully sober. And when you thought you wouldn’t draw too much attention, you announced that you were leaving.

“Let me walk you out.” Guilt rattled around in your chest. It was Iruka’s birthday and you ruined it, just like you thought you would. And yet, he still offered to walk you out.

You allowed it, suddenly finding yourself standing outside of Shushu-ya, Iruka by your side. Even as the door closed behind you, you could hear the sound of Konoha’s nightlife. You waited for Iruka to speak, but the weight on your shoulders became unbearable.

“I’m not leaving because of you, you know. I had a good time. I really did, so go back in there and know that, okay?” You tried to read his face. He looked conflicted and the pounding of your heart only increased.

“I just want you to know that you have a friend. Eh, friends. No matter what.” You blinked at him a few times. You didn’t like how he said that last part.

“No matter what?” You let out a nervous laugh for the umpteenth time that night. Your eyes wandered erratically. “What do you mean by that?” You were expecting some reassurance, but none came. Your mind filled in the blanks. You took a step back. He took a step forward. “No matter if I sold out the Leaf? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I-I didn’t say that.” He stammered. Suddenly frantic. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” You gripped onto your strap bag. Another step back. Another step forward.

“I don’t think you sold out the Leaf. Not on purpose.” The tail end of that sentence stung. You began to tremble. Another person who thought that you were a traitor. “Listen, I had a student once. He’s out of the Academy now but he was in your shoes once.” You couldn’t look at him. You focused on your shoes, the shoes you’ve regretted wearing. “I know how guys like that are. I know how manipulative they can be, how they can convince you into doing something that you know you don’t want to do.” Your head snapped up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t convinced to do anything wrong by anyone.”

“I know how kind you are. I know that you had a good heart. No one’s going to blame you if someone took advantage of that. I don’t care what happened. We’ve known each other forever. I’ll always be here for you.” Iruka gently placed his hands on your shoulders and his forehead against yours. You became cognisant of how violently you quaked. You didn’t even register his confession. The sharp burning between your eyes threatened to spill over into tears.

“Iruka, please stop. Just tell me that you believe me.” You gripped onto his forearm, wanting to feel a semblance of comfort. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I do believe you.” Unconvincing. You looked into his eyes, salty droplets now silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Iruka nodded against you without a word. A beat. You gulped. “And Kabuto didn’t either.”

He pulled away, trying to fight a frown from crossing his face. You could see it. The realization morphing his features. Iruka tried his best not to show any of his mixed emotions, but he was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Who? The bingo book ninja?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. He always did that when he was nervous. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. D-didn't do anything wrong.” Once again, unconvincing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. Please, uh, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t look back. You ran home.

***

When you got to your apartment, you dropped to the floor. You scrambled for a kunai to pry open the floorboard. Throwing the plank aside, you plucked out the scroll. Unraveling it, you bit your finger, smearing your blood across the summoning symbol.

You were already starting to scurry off when Kabuto appeared. You walked right through the white cloud of smoke. He felt troubled, but that wasn’t something you picked up on. Kabuto immediately pulled out a scalpel in defense, ready for an emergency fight. You didn’t even tell him to lower his weapon. You didn’t blink twice. You stormed straight to your wardrobe, yanking out a large travel bag.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going out tonight.” Kabuto asked, but you ignored him, stuffing belongings inside the bag. You skittered frantically around the room, pulling sentimental belongings from your drawers and off your shelves. Kabuto looked on helplessly as you muttered to yourself. He could hardly catch you with how erratically you darted around your small living space. With enough calculation, he caught you, grabbing you by your wrists. You struggled against him. “Hey, hey, hey slow down. Tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him, rivulets still flowing from your eyes.

“Please, Kabuto,” You begged. “Let’s run away together.”

His immediate response was to let go of you, stumbling a bit backwards.

“What?” His mouth went dry.

“I—” You couldn’t even get your thoughts straight. You just spoke, everything spilling out of you. —“Please take me away from here.” Ever-suave, Kabuto found himself panicked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people for one thing—” You met his eyes, but in your haze you missed all that they told. You saw complete and utter rejection.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me that you’re not my enemy? You’re all I have.” Betrayal. If Kabuto could name the expression that washed over your face that would be it. You wiped the wetness from your skin with your sleeve. “Please, you know I would be quiet. You could have any of my books. I don’t even care about shoes on my bed. I don’t even need a bed just please let’s go right now!”

And for all of his big talk, Kabuto was at a loss. He wanted to. More than anything he wanted to scoop you off of your feet then and there, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring you to Orochimaru. You were supposed to be here in the Leaf. You belonged here in the Leaf. This was where you could be happiest, not on the run with him. He’s caused enough damage to your life.

“I can’t.” That was all he managed to make out without his voice cracking. And as he looked into your large, wet eyes, his heart shattered.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I-I can’t. I—” He kicked himself. —“You’ll be happier here.”

“I’ll be happier with you,” You pleaded. You balled up your hands in the front of his shirt. “Please, I love you.” Kabuto diverted his eyes from yours, clenching them shut.

“No, you don’t.” He placed his hands over yours, gingerly trying to remove you from him but you stood firm. “You’re drunk. I’m sure that if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’m not drunk!” You argued, getting even more desperate than you already were. “You told me to gather up some nerve so here it is! I love you! Please let’s go, just you and me. We can start over—” And with a few quick hand signs, you fell asleep.

Kabuto’s hand hovered over your forehead. He could see your fear, feel it too. He caught you as you began to collapse and brought you over to the bed. Knowing your recovery speed, the jutsu wouldn’t last for long. Perhaps it would last a half hour, maybe less. Anyone else and he would have expected them to be out for the rest of the night. He covered you with your blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, ready to recast his spell when you began to come to for the rest of the night. He knew that if you kept talking, he would have done exactly what you asked. Kabuto buried his head in his hands and uncharacteristically, for the first time in years, began to sob.

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 51

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

The TV buzzed quietly in the living room, repeating the same string of information all the news stations had been reporting since yesterday. It was amusing to see how many different words could be used to state the same thing without anyone noticing, especially if the only clip actually capturing the event that'd been on everyone's tongues for the past 24 hours lasted for less than 10 seconds and had been recorded on painfully cheap equipment.

Still, a suspicious and still unexplained cloud of what appeared to be dust, rising at the edge of the observable surface of the Moon, kept people plastered to the screens.

Peter kept an eye on the report just in case any actual news dropped, but so far, despite his ever growing curiosity, the world's experts were just as clueless as they had been yesterday, especially since investigating the site in person was not really an option.

A shiver ran down the boy's arms, urging him to keep moving. Even though the windows were wide open, the sour stench still hung in the air of his apartment. Fanning the air with an incredibly colorful and tacky fan aunt May had bought last summer, Peter had hoped to make the apartment a breathable place again before she was back.

"Don't look so smug," Peter gave Barbara the side eye. "It's your fault."

From the heights of the chandelier, the undead owl blinked slowly with all the smugness only an untouchable criminal was capable of mustering. In fact, the gagging odor only seemed to worsen.

Peter coughed, shuffling in even closer to the open window. They say that experience is the toughest, but also the best teacher, and Peter had no reason to disagree.

"...no wonder they didn't let you eat inside."

Peter checked the news again. He was dying to drown Loki and you under all the questions about what precisely had happened on the Moon. The boy had no doubts that your little visit there was directly connected to the incident, but he had no way of learning the truth just yet. The only two people knowing the facts were currently incapacitated and trying their best not to die on Peter's bed. Or at the very least not to let go of all the alcohol consumed.

Despite his best efforts, Peter was unable to wake them up. When he had offered to hide them from Thor for reasons they weren't the most open about, Peter had no idea it would be for such an extended period of time. Peter had only suggested his house because he knew aunt May was supposed to work till afternoon, but these few hours of peace and quiet were coming to a rather swift end with each moment Peter was incapable of waking and then moving out the two drunkards clinging onto his bed for dear life.

Peter had no idea how to explain them to aunt May. Or the undead owl poisoning the air from the heights of the chandelier.

With the door to his room firmly shut, Peter hoped his secret stash of people that definitely shouldn't be there would stay secret. He had a big chance of succeeding after all. If only he managed to fan out the stink in time and—

The keys rattled in the lock with the familiar jingle of all the little gadgets aunt May loved to keep attached despite their utter uselessness.

Peter looked at Barbara. Barbara looked at Peter. The boy could've sworn the owl recognized the thoughts rushing through his head at that moment, and decided to be even meaner than usual. Before Peter managed to put together a story explaining how an undead and rather unhygienic owl came into his possession, the owl took a swift exit through the open window and disappeared, leaving only the stench behind.

"Oh, come on…"

Increasing the speed of his fanning, Peter hoped it would be enough. The sounds coming from the door shattered his hope.

Aunt May coughed as she walked in, dropping the grocery bags on the table. "Peter, sweetheart, please tell me no one died in here while I was gone."

She took the fan from his hands and leaned out of the window, taking large gulps of the fresh air.

Outside, there was no sign of a stinky undead owl anywhere in sight. Not even one filthy feather to prove how close to guessing the truth aunt May was. Peter was unsure whether it was for better or for worse, but it surely left him with all the questions remaining to be answered.

"No, of course not!" he laughed the fakest laugh of his life. "It's not like any animals could get in and just...decompose, right?"

"Well, it would certainly be hard given what floor we live on, but you know New York, the rats can just get anywhere."

Peter watched in growing terror as his aunt looked around, set firmly on finding the source of the smell. The living room was a closed space, with only so many pieces of furniture to look under before the idea of marching into the boy's room popped into her head.

There was little to no doubt his own head would be torn from his neck if she beheld the sight of it.

"That's not rats, really! It's just… well, Ned made me swear not to tell a thing, but you know his stomach and I had told him the burrito we had after school didn't look very well, but he was insistent, so…"

Peter shrugged, trying his best not to show how fast his heart was drumming in his chest. He made a mental note to apologize to Ned later, or at least buy him a burrito next time they met. Not mentioning the reason for it would probably be the wisest, though.

Aunt May sighed with what could only be read as parental concern. As Peter's closest friend, Ned was a frequent guest to the apartment and many meals have gone by with May admiring his appetite. She knew well the capabilities of Ned's stomach and the inhuman amount of food it could make disappear.

"Poor thing, I really hope he recovers soon. Is he still there?" May whispered, nodding towards the bathroom.

"No, he just...left."

May raised her eyebrows. "In that state?"

"I mean, he said he was fine now and could make it home."

"You should call him," she gave up on her search and started unpacking the groceries she got on her way home. "I really hope he made it in one piece."

"That's a great idea, I'll do it right away."

Before May managed to say another thing, the boy was already gone, the door to his room firmly shut. She smiled to herself. Ned was a good boy and she was glad Peter still had a friend in him for so many years. If only his choices in food weren't a health hazard...

Peter locked the door behind him, pushing his back to it. He took a deep, if rather shaky breath.

"I'm glad you're finally awake, but what are you guys doing?"

You turned your head away from the open window, banging it into Loki's. He winced, but continued to assess the 10-story drop to the ground outside the building.

"We're sneaking out," you slurred. "The suits are coming."

"What su-"

Even through his closed door, Peter heard the doorbell ring. He froze. "Who's that?"

"I don't remember, but they want something from us."

Peter looked at the door. Then back to you. Loki was already missing.

The fire escape was an old and wiry thing, stubbornly fighting against the rust and corrosion throughout the years. It stood mostly unbroken, which was greatly appreciated by the two people currently about to use it. But the passage of time left its mark that could be well heard by all the residents of the building. The high-pitched, irritating sound of old metal creaking under every step was a steep price to pay for a way out.

Peter took a deep breath in his now-empty room. It did little to steady him. Behind the door, he could hear a conversation between aunt May and a voice he almost recognized. Maybe if he snuck out after them…

"Peter, come here for a moment!" May called him with a smile to her voice.

It couldn't be that bad if she was smiling, right?

Reluctantly, Peter returned to the living room, bracing himself to meet whoever the suits were.

"Hello, Peter," Agent Coulson nodded politely in his direction.

SHIELD was in his house and Peter had little to no doubt the agent wasn't there to try his aunt's home baked cookies.

"I'm sorry for the rush, Peter, but have you perhaps seen…," the agent looked at Peter's aunt, "your new coworkers? I can't contact them lately. We were working on a new project."

Peter watched his aunt link his apparent 'internship' at Stark Industries and Coulson's words. Even though she was growing giddy and engaged the agent in some small talk about the job, Peter knew the agent was still waiting for the answer.

There was only one way of getting out of this mess.

Playing dumb had always been his savior.

Peter was the image of innocence as he asked, "Who?"

But Coulson's features hardened almost imperceptibly. In one short moment, Peter knew he messed up.

Well, maybe playing dumb didn't work on certain people.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki series #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson imagine

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browniefox · 3 years

Text

The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

#wrightweek21 #ace attorney #trucy wright #phoenix wright #fanfiction #fanfic #browniefox writes

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

Text

For once this month, I actually wrote what I meant to. Written for @whumptober2020 prompt 26. If you thought the head trauma was bad (Migraine, concussion, blindness). Pretty please mind the tags. <3

Read on AO3

In retrospect, they had had better days. They’d been all but run out of town, which, they were killing a monster for these ungrateful jerks, so rude. Said ungrateful jerks had also greatly understated the monster problem so that Geralt would agree to save the town they wouldn’t even let him sleep in for less money, so extra rude. And now, the monsters are dead, but the building that had served as a nest has pretty much come down around Geralt’s and Jaskier’s ears, which probably isn’t the villagers fault, but they’re summarily awful so the bard opts to blame them anyway.

Jaskier coughs as the dust and debris settle, but it still feels like he tried to breathe in a sandstorm. Blindly, he shakes the rubble from his hair with his hand, staring out into the darkness. There’s only the weakest light shining in from off to his right promising that a world continues to exist beyond their unexpected prison.

A prison that Jaskier hopes Geralt is investigating to find them a way out of. Geralt is quiet, but he’s always quiet, so that really doesn’t mean much. When he can’t hear the witcher, Jaskier squints at the dark room, wishing his friend didn’t absolutely insist on wearing black all the time. “I don’t suppose you can do that magicky thing you do and break us out of here?”

No answer comes.

“Geralt? You’re not on the other side of all these rocks are you? I really don’t fancy being stuck here alone,” Jaskier calls a little louder. He feels his way to where the crumbled stone blocked off the exit and finds it every bit as impassable as he feared. Jaskier thinks to try and free himself, but the first rock he grabs comes loose and the whole pile rumbles, sending the bard scrambling backward, tripping over something and landing in a heap on the floor. Alright, bad idea then.

He had initially assumed the something he tripped over was more rocks, except that it makes a wretched little whimpering sound that rocks are very definitely not capable of. Fuck.

Hampered by the fact that he can’t see, Jaskier feels his way across the floor until he finds the hard leather protecting Geralt’s torso. Geralt isn’t moving and he can’t see, so Jaskier curses under his breath as he maps his way up to the witcher’s face. “C’mon Geralt. Wake up. This is really not the time.”

A hand held in front of Geralt’s face confirms that at least he’s still breathing, but that’s no real comfort when he’s still so still and quiet. It’s as much reassurance as Jaskier thinks he’s going to get though, so he continues. Maybe if he could get Geralt to sit up…

Jaskier never gets that far. Blindly, he slides a hand behind Geralt’s head and his heart nearly stops in his chest. Geralt’s hair is matted with something warm and sort of viscous, and when Jaskier rubs his fingers together, they’re wet. The touch that just got what Jaskier assumes is blood on his hands is also the thing that finally pulls a sound from Geralt. That makes it even worse because it’s an agonized moan that Jaskier is pretty sure is going to haunt him every day for the rest of his life.

“Okay, don’t panic Jask. You can fix this,” he mumbles under his breath. If he just had some light. Jaskier glares at the little hole where the sun is still shining in like the wall did this just to harm him personally. If the window is mostly blocked, there have to be a lot of stones in the way, and no telling if he could lift them.

Except maybe he doesn’t have to. Frantically, Jaskier feels around for Geralt’s sword, breathing out a sigh of relief when he finally wraps his fingers around the hilt. If luck is on his side, maybe he can get enough leverage to knock something free.

“How do you use this thing?” Jaskier grumbles once he’s got it, supporting the weight of the sword against his shoulder. It’s not that it’s all that heavy to stand there and hold, but even the idea of swinging it around is exhausting. On the upside, it seems sturdy enough to pry a few rocks loose, and if it isn’t… well, a sword is replaceable. Geralt is decidedly less so.

Every second feels too long, like he’s moving in slow motion. Jaskier shuffles across the open space as briskly as he dares, shoves the sword into the first thing that feels like a gap in the rocks and shifts his weight downward against the hilt. There’s nothing. The rock is too heavy or he is too weak, or the sword isn’t stiff enough, or…

Jaskier shakes his head, refusing to give up like that. He yanks the sword free and tries again, a little off to one side. This time, the sword slips further in with the grating sound of stone on steel. Once again, he throws all his weight into pushing the sword down like a lever. There’s a creak, an echoing sort of groan as It moves a little and then all at once. Jaskier barely has time to jump out of the way as a sizable rock skids from its resting place along with a shower of pebbles.

It’s not really a big enough gap to get out, but it does let the light in quite a bit more. The room is dim and dusty, but it brings the periphery into focus, not that Jaskier cares a whit about that. He nearly stumbles over the rocks scattered across the floor in his hurry to get back to Geralt.

“Oh, no no no.” Jaskier’s breath catches in his throat when his gaze settles on the witcher. He has seen Geralt muddle through all manner of injury, has patched up a fair few of them himself. He’s stitched up angry, uneven gashes and set fractured bones, but none of those things prepares him for the way Geralt looks now. Blood spreads around the witcher’s head like some sort of macabre halo staining Geralt’s hair a disturbing shade of crimson and soaking into the dust and rock around him.

It’s not really a relief to find Geralt’s potions weren’t lost when the building came down around them. It’s more like a handful of sandbags in the face of a hurricane. He’s not a complete stranger to them though, and a rather distraught effort at rifling through the witcher’s bag turns up one Jaskier recognizes. It’s an orangey red, almost sparkling, and he’s seen it work before on things that should have killed Geralt. He’s got it in hand when he realizes he needs to back up a step. It can’t mend the witcher if he bleeds out first.

There are no bandages, because of course there aren’t. Jaskier shrugs out of his doublet. It’s not soft at all, so the chemise goes too, and that he can work with. Carefully as he can, Jaskier winds the cloth around Geralt’s head, tying it in place and hoping to whatever deity might be listening that it’s enough.

The potion comes next, and that’s somehow much worse. Geralt doesn’t stir when Jaskier brings the bottle to his lips. The only thing Jaskier can think to do is drip it in a little at a time, so agonizingly slowly that he worries it’ll be too late before he’s even finished. Afterwards, he stares at Geralt’s unnaturally still form, waiting to make sure he doesn’t choke on the stuff somehow.

Are you supposed to leave people where they are or something else entirely? Jaskier doesn’t have the foggiest idea, but he can’t bear the idea of leaving Geralt on the hard ground. Shivering in the chilly air, Jaskier ignores the blood seeping into his trousers and sits so that he can rest Geralt’s head in his lap. He won’t panic over the stain spreading too quickly across his chemise. He won’t. “You're not dying here. You don't get to leave me behind. Not like this.”

All that’s left to do is wait.

***

Geralt can’t remember ever opening his eyes to this before, the world having slid so violently out of focus. There’s a weight, or maybe it’s him that’s heavy. Even curling his fingers a monumental effort.

“Wh-” It’s all he manages before words fail him, and suddenly there is a hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Oh thank fuck,” someone says. Jaskier? Geralt thinks it’s probably Jaskier. It usually is. “How are you feeling?” Did something happen that suddenly granted him sleeping in Jaskier’s lap privileges? He doesn’t think so. That feels important in a way he can’t imagine being ambushed by, tied to a conversation he keeps not having, but here they are, his head very definitely in Jaskier’s lap. Only Jaskier looks horribly unhappy, so… so…

Jaskier had been asking him something. “What?”

“How’s your head? There was a lot of blood and I didn’t know if the potion would be enough, and…” Jaskier’s still talking. Geralt is distantly aware of this, but the words won’t stick.

“What happened?” he says, or hopes he does. His mouth feels as disjointed as the rest of him and it’s disconcertingly difficult to tell.

“The building came down on us. Don’t you remember?”

“Obviously not,” Geralt bites out. Wait. The building came down and as that sinks in, there’s a sharp pang of fear, but not for himself. He’ll be fine. He’s always fine. But Jaskier is human and sometimes overwhelmingly fragile. Geralt's head is swimming and he's almost afraid to ask. “Are you alright?”

“Me? I’m fine.” There’s more, but the rest won’t stay put. That’s the important bit anyway. Jaskier is okay. The swell of fear dissipates like a puff of smoke as quickly as it had sprung up. The building is a problem, but he can figure that out. Somehow. It’ll come to him eventually. To Jaskier’s credit, he does seem fine, if oddly clothed. Rather not clothed, actually. “Where is your shirt?” “Ah yeah, that.” Jaskier’s knuckles brush gently across Geralt’s temple. Dizzily, Geralt leans into it before it occurs to him maybe he shouldn't. “You were bleeding a lot. It was all I had to work with.”

“Hmm.” There’s an itchy sort of feeling at the back of his mind suggesting he’s supposed to be alarmed by that, but the response itself never comes. Not the way it did for Jaskier. Which, there was a reason he was worried about Jaskier, he’s pretty sure. There might be a reason he’s lying here too, what whatever it is, it’s lost to him now. They’re somewhere dark and dusty, and they can’t stay here forever, so without much thought, Geralt rolls over, trying to get up. It’s a mistake.

That the room is spinning is the least terrible thing out of all the things that come of his attempt to get up. The shift in equilibrium feels like having nails driven into his skull from every angle, sharp and impossible to tune out. There’s a high, keening sound Geralt only belatedly realizes is him.

“Geralt. Fuck. Hang on.” There’s nothing to hang onto though, and Geralt all but collapses down to his forearms. For a second he’s very, very certain he’s going to retch, but the immediacy of the sensation passes, leaving him deeply nauseous instead.

Jaskier’s hand smooths up and down his arm in the places where hard leather doesn’t block out sensation. In another place he might call the touch affectionate, but what daydream could he be in where that’s true? “Where are we?”

“We just talked about this. We're in a building that collapsed.” Something has crept into the edges of Jaskier’s voice, fretful and shadowed. Geralt decides he doesn’t like it. He’d like to soothe it away, but does not know how.

“‘M fine,” he tries because Jaskier seems worried about him, but even in his own ears the words blur together. Geralt tries to lift his head enough to look at Jaskier and prove his point, but the awful needlepoint pressure only presses more deeply. The witcher drops his head, forehead resting against what he thinks might be Jaskier’s knee.

“You’re not fine, you dolt. I don't want to mess it up, but I don't know how to fix this one. Are you supposed to sleep it off? Should I make sure you don’t sleep?” Jaskier is saying things still, Geralt is distantly aware, but the words all drift like dandelion seeds. There’s only this thread of terror that Geralt cannot stomach hearing.

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” he mumbles, blindly reaching to lay his hand over Jaskier’s. He’s not dead and Jaskier is well enough to talk, so it can’t be that bad, can it? “Tell me what happened.”

“...Geralt?” Jaskier’s thumb is brushing against the back of Geralt’s neck. It’s sort of lovely in that it's one pleasant thing when everything else is awful. “What do you remember?”

That’s a trick question if Geralt ever heard one. His memory is fine. He can’t think of any reason it wouldn’t be. Refusing to fall for it, Geralt aims to distract instead. “That feels nice.”

“Well, now I know you’re unwell. The Geralt I know barely tolerates my being around for more than a few weeks at a time, and would never own up to liking something I was doing.

Does Jaskier really think that? Maybe. Geralt can’t seem to hang onto where that line of reasoning was going, but Jaskier was talking and wrong. He needs to know he's wrong. “That’s not true. I miss you when you’re gone.”

“Ooooookay. That’s very sweet, but I think you’ll remember that’s not true when you’re better." It sounds sad, but Jaskier still has a hand on him, warm and welcome.

He’s staring very closely at a floor that was probably pretty once, but it’s cracked now. It’s a weird place to be, even for him, so Geralt tries to get up. Sort of. More precisely, he lifts his head an inch or two. It’s as far as he gets before his head feels like it’s splitting and he thinks he might be sick.

”Okay, that’s enough of that. You are, in fact, the worst patient. I would like to not be stuck here, and I imagine you would like to not be stuck here, so just let me help.” Stuck? Geralt doesn’t know where they’re stuck, but he knows there’s some reason he shouldn’t ask. Nodding is probably a terrible idea, so the witcher hums an agreement and listens to Jaskier sweep the worst of the debris from the floor next to them.

There are hands on him next, guiding him somewhere else with painstaking care. Geralt lets himself be moved. He ends up on his side before it feels very abruptly like Roach is stepping on his skull. It’s all he can do to bite off a low whimper.

“Alright, hey. Just get some rest. That swallow has to work eventually, right?” Jaskier doesn’t sound certain, but there's something soft under Geralt’s cheek and there’s a gentle hand cradling the side of his neck, a thumb carefully sweeping across his temple. If they weren’t lost, Geralt would call the gesture affectionate, but nothing makes any sense here. Are they lost?

Geralt thinks about the worried quiver in Jaskier’s voice. He'd fix it if he just knew how. It's quiet here, and Jaskier doesn't belong by himself in the quiet. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You’re not.” There’s a change in pressure around his skull, something falling away, but it doesn’t hurt, and it comes with Jaskier’s fingers sliding through his hair. “Your head is looking better.”

That’s good, he thinks. Maybe it means the awful needling feeling will go away. Maybe it means this other ache, the one sprawling out behind his ribcage, will go away too. It means something, Geralt knows, but he can’t quite piece it together and his mouth runs away without the rest of him. “I don’t think I want to be alone.”

“You’re not. I’m right here.” Jaskier’s short nails scritch tenderly at the base of Geralt’s skull, a welcome counterpoint to everything else. “You’re not alone.”

***

I don’t think I want to be alone. It’s a revelation if it means anything. Jaskier knows, of course, that the rambling of a witcher who couldn’t even remember how they got there for more than thirty seconds at a time might not mean anything at all. But if there’s nothing to it, at least Jaskier can know that there for a moment in time, he could be exactly what Geralt needed. For now, Geralt’s face is pressed into Jaskier’s thigh, his breathing the only sound in this dim place.

An hour in, Jaskier starts to wonder if it wasn’t the other way around. Maybe he was supposed to keep Geralt from sleeping. Two hours in, he worries that Geralt might wake up in just as bad of shape as before, that he’ll have failed them both. Three hours in, sitting so still has gotten to be agonizing as much as he’d like to stay.

He’s just about to try and see how carefully he can move out from under Geralt when the witcher stirs. There’s a low groan and one eerie golden eye slowly blinking open.

“Careful.” Jaskier carefully brushes his thumb along Geralt’s temple, trying to coax the witcher into staying put, even if it means his own continued discomfort.

“Fuck. That hurts,” Geralt grumbles, holding his hand over the upper half of his face, and some of Jaskier’s unease settles. The words are perfectly clear this time.

“Shockingly, Falling rocks will do that.” He should let go, Jaskier thinks, but he carefully threads his fingers through Geralt’s hair and the witcher stays like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. It's probably just that Geralt needs a little time to reorient himself, but for a moment, Jaskier lets himself believe it’s true.

Bit by bit, Geralt seems to recover. When he finally pushes himself to sit up, there’s a pained wince, but the witcher’s eyes remain focused. That’s… good. That’s probably good. Except if it’s not. “Should you be doing that?”

“I’m fine,” Geralt replies gruffly instead of bothering to answer the question. It’s considerably more normal than their last conversation, so that’s something.

“Actually fine or ‘I can’t wrap my head around the fact that someone might care what happens to me’ fine?” Geralt ignores the question entirely, his gaze flicking over their surroundings before settling on Jaskier. “You were afraid.”

It's not a question, and Geralt is looking at him like a puzzle to solve. It would just figure, the one time the man is actually listening to him. It seems weird that Geralt couldn't keep ahold of where they even were, but that Jaskier being afraid for him would stick even now. Then again, Jaskier doesn't know anything about head injuries. Maybe that's just how it goes.

“Damn right I was. I thought you were dying and I was going to be trapped down here with your… your corpse or something. Then you woke up making no sense, and I don’t know what to do with a head injury, which it turns out is an awfully stressful thing to guess about. I wasn't even sure I'd done enough to fix it until, what, five minutes ago?” It's a lot, even for him, the words tripping over each other in their need to escape. Jaskier leans on theatrics because it’s all the armor he has. Anything else might give away how his heart broke with every attempt Geralt made to speak the last time around.

“Hmm.” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose and says nothing more. Typical.

Jaskier wants to be angry, but the feeling floats away as soon as he really looks at Geralt. There are dark, angry smudges under his eyes, and Geralt is so pale, more than usual even. He appears every bit the part of someone who was recently on death’s door and Jaskier just can’t hang onto any real bitterness. “How’re you feeling?”

Geralt gives him a sour look, the kind he gets when he thinks Jaskier is asking a dumb question. Much to Jaskier’s surprise, he does answer eventually. “Terrible… but not dying.”

“Sooooo, any thoughts on how we get out of here?” It’s abrupt, but Jaskier really can’t stomach thinking the state Geralt was in, and escape is the next most pressing thing. The sooner they steer away from what happened, the less likely he is to say something foolish.

There’s that look a second time, and this time Geralt doesn’t deign to answer. Which is okay really. They’ve been stuck here this long. A little longer probably won’t hurt anything.

“I was. Dying, I mean,” Geralt says quietly, startling Jaskier from his thoughts. The bard follows Geralt’s gaze to where there is still quite a lot of blood splattered across the floor. It's dry, but it stains the alabaster flooring and pale, crumbled stone.

“Oh, that. Well, see I-” Jaskier stumbles because he doesn't know what Geralt wants, and having nearly lost the witcher in this remnant of a room has left him raw and tender in places. It's almost a relief when Geralt’s hand slaps unceremoniously over Jaskier’s mouth, stifling any further reply, but not hard enough to hurt. When Jaskier looks at him in surprise, he’d swear there was something like affection in Geralt’s exasperated expression. It's probably just a trick of the light.

“Stop. Talking. You did well. I'm still here, aren't I?” With a grimace, Geralt pulls his hand from Jaskier’s mouth and wobbles to his feet. It’s an unsteady motion, and Jaskier isn’t sure it’s really wise this soon after nearly having his brains bashed in. Geralt seems to manage though, and holds out a hand to Jaskier like he’s the one who needs support.

“In this life, some days not dead is the best you can hope for." Jaskier can’t help but take Geralt’s hand, letting the witcher yank him to his feet. Jaskier thinks he catches a smile, but Geralt turns away too quickly to be sure. What he is sure of is that he's on his feet and Geralt's hand is still holding onto his. "Not dead... and not alone.”

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3

#whumptober2020 #no.26 #concussion #fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher #My fic #geralt z rivii #head injury #blood #caretaking #Nothing quite like a near death experience to bring out the feelings #If only they were less allergic to saying what they mean #hurt comfort

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srta-minutes · 3 years

Text

Form ORC-75 (Romance, Office, Non-Spousal)

pairing: loki/mobius rating: pg13 words: 1441 (unbeta’d) summary: mobius formally acquires a boyfriend. ravonna, formally, is very tired.

An optimist and pragmatist. That, generally, was how Mobius self-reported on TVA employee evals. Most people did not actually want to unleash that much malice upon the universe, and those who did were usually too ill-equipped to do so. Looking on the bright side and then looking at the facts when the bright side suddenly evaporated: this was Mobius M. Mobius, top analyst at the Time Variance Authority, in a nutshell.

So while he knew that, yes, technically, he and Variant L1130 were manipulating the shit out of each other, he chose to look at the silver lining. So the flirting was inevitably for gain, sure. Loki was a black hole for all the praise and admiration that Mobius was willing to give, yes. But underneath all of that manipulation there was some semblance of real affection, wasn’t there? And at least no one was getting hurt, right?

Right.

“You’re becoming way too attached to that variant, Mobius.”

Mobius paused with the tumbler of extremely vintage bourbon midway to his mouth.

“Which variant?” Mobius asked innocently.

Ravonna’s stare was one of cosmic, timeless, omniscient exhaustion.

“Okay, okay,” said Mobius, taking a strengthening gulp of the bourbon and putting the drink down on the side table. (On the coaster.) “So we’re finally going to talk about it. I’m sure you’ve heard so much. The scuttlebutt around here is the stuff of legends.”

Ravonna sighed and reached for a stack of tan manila file folders on the coffee table and swept one open with her hand. She was ready.

“Hunter L-12 filed a conduct complaint with regards to ‘openly flirting’ in the mess.” She leafed to the next page. “Anderson in Dimensional Analytics filed a conduct complaint saying she was unable to use the West Dome elevator. I’ll not expound on why.” She shuffled through several more pages, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, and perhaps my favorite. Inappropriate use of standard-issue TVA batons. Filed by Hunter B-15.”

Mobius pinched the bridge of his extremely broken nose. “Come on, B-15. I thought we were buds.”

“Mobius!” said Ravonna, slapping the file shut. “What in time were you two using the batons for?”

“Listen, it was Loki’s idea—” Mobius shrugged, feeling himself reddening. He didn’t want to say that you can prolong a lot of wonderful sensations when you’re moving at 1/16th time. Ravonna didn’t need to know that. “And hey, just putting it out there? The West Dome elevator has been broken for time immemorial.”

"The only reason,” Ravonna said, closing the case file and ignoring him, “that we’re allowing that variant to walk around un-pruned is because he’s helping you with a case. And while nothing you’re doing is technically against the rules—”

“—Which I’ve read. You know I love rules—”

“—It seems like everything that you two do together has nothing to do with the case!” Ravonna leaned in. “ A case about a variant who is still killing our hunters. Every week we lose minutemen and every week I have to sign a mountain of paperwork for you with nothing to show for it. I need you to stop playing around.”

“You know, Ravonna,” said Mobius, also leaning forward, elbow on knees. “I feel like I don’t ask for much here. I don’t think I complain about much, do I? I always go by the book, I put in overtime, I don’t ask for more benefits. I haven’t cashed in on my vacation time in Lord knows how long. And not to brag, I’m one of your tap analysts, have been for years. Yes, we haven’t caught this particular variant but with this Loki—look at the results. My numbers are through the roof! We’re finding variants left and right; we’re stopping nexus events before they’re even happening. We are outperforming in every sector, ever since that Loki showed up. And if I’m being honest, he actually helps me think because he doesn’t think like the rest of us. We need more of that in the TVA.”

He thought he made some pretty good points. He reached for the bourbon on the table while Ravonna kept staring.

“Mobius, off the record,” she said slowly. “Have you ever been seduced before?”

Ravonna handed him a handkerchief to mop up the bourbon that had dribbled out during his spit-take. Mobius coughed.

“Has anyone in the Authority ever been seduced?” said Mobius, recovering. “Is anyone here even capable of that?”

“Variant L1130 manipulating you!” she shouted. “Making you feel good by getting in your pants, helping you slam dunk cases so we think he’s an asset, and then he’ll use whatever knowledge he’s been slowly acquiring to unleash hell on us and the entirety of time.”

“He won’t,” said Mobius, standing up. “I’ve given him plenty of chances. Variant L1130—Loki—wants to catch this guy just as much as we do. And if I’m being real with you, Ravonna, I think he might actually like being at the TVA. Because he might actually like being around me. Since apparently, I’m the only person in the universe who doesn’t think he’s a lying scourge. He’s a beautiful singer, Ravonna, did you know that?”

Actually, Mobius did not stand up and he actually said none of that out loud. But he felt it in his mind very strongly. He might stupidly be falling in love with the god of mischief but he wasn’t stupid enough to yell at his boss. Also, no one else needed to know about Loki’s singing. That was a special thing for him.

“This one won’t run. I assure you.”

Ravonna stared back at him. Then she rolled her eyes and slapped a very thin folder onto her lap. It only had one sheet in it but she stared down at it like it was 300. It was a browning sheet of paper that looked as old as the TVA.

“I have to do so much paperwork for you. Paperwork to not prune this loki. Paperwork for you to go on your cute little apocalypse dates ("calling them dates is a little much—") And now. Paperwork to let you have a boyfriend.”

Mobius stared. “What?"

"I'm filling out a form so you and your Loki can make out and not be swarmed with conduct reports, Mobius." She was filling in lines on the document with a fury. "You're partners. I have about 20 hunters under similar dispensations. You should be under probation for being romantically engaged with anyone non-TVA. But since this Loki technically works for the TVA, this paperwork allows for a temporary partnership.”

He suddenly recognized the sheet from upside-down. He gawked. “Form ORB-75. Workplace Romance.”

“Form ORC-75,” Ravonna corrected. “Non-spousal. Though if you want to get hitched I can make it spousal. But the TVA only recognizes temporal marriages that have witness in three dimensions. I have no clue if Loki is on speaking terms with his family in any of them. Why am I even telling you any of this."

She slashed her signature into the form and handed it to Mobius. In faded twelve point courier new the paper read:

M. M. MOBIUS and VARIANT L1130 (LOKI). TEMPORARY PARTNERSHIP.

Well, gosh

, that was

sad

, he thought staring at the word temporary. He thought briefly of Loki during that avalanche on Ganymede in 3074. Loki had pulled him through the time portal just in time, and they landed on top of each other, panting, covered in snow and panting.

“Spectacular,” said Loki, grinning. He pulled Mobius to his feet. “Outstanding. Mobius, I think, I could do this forever.”

Mobius brushed a dusting of snow off of Loki’s jacket. “You promise?”

Loki met his gaze and the grin simmered down to something less giddy. “Who would I be if I started throwing promises about?”

“It’s okay if you don’t mean it,” said Mobius. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

Loki smiled and let his fingers trail up Mobius’s chest to the knot of his tie. It didn’t need straightening but he fixed it anyway. “Then I promise you, Mobius M. Mobius. It’s you and me. Forever.”

Mobius stared down at the paper. He knew this setup couldn’t last for all eternity. Time must come for all things, he thought. He was a pragmatist, after all.

Nevertheless, he signed as an optimist.

Ravonna got up and placed the form in the out-tray on her desk. “You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, Ravonna. Like, so much. This really means a lot.”

“Dismissed, Mobius,” she sighed, sitting down at her desk.

He picked up his stack of paperwork and walked to the exit, letting the silly grin creep on his face. Then he turned around at the door.

“So your options were pruning the Loki, taking me to HR, or me signing the Workplace papers?”

Ravonna put a pen down. “No HR, and of course I wasn’t going to prune that Loki. Mobius, your numbers have been through the roof.”

#wowki #lokius #words #loki: um so why didn't I get a say in signing those papers #mobius: you don't technically work here #loki: and yet i was just placed in formal romantic partnership without any consultation #mobius: you know darling one of the other options was killing you

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borat123 · 3 years

Text

NaruHina Analysis

Naruto Manga Part 1

Part 2

Kiba tries to demoralise Naruto emotionally during their fight and Hinata thinks this. We see here how Hinata has watched how everyone treated Naruto for a very long time and has very deep empathy for him. She has an in depth analysis of his character and sees the true person inside and not a monster. No one in their age group feels this much empathy and understanding for him. She admires his strength and determination, she knows he is strong. She knows the effort involved in getting up when you are despaired. She knows that better than anyone and that’s why she admires Naruto, since she before this moment, wasn’t capable of doing the same thing.

Kishimoto shows us just how well Hinata understands Naruto and whos the most empathetic for him. Everyone else is starting to notice and acknowledge him NOW. Hinata has already acknowledged him waaaaay before this. Even with his flaws she still acknowledge the great person she sees inside. This is true love.

Naruto seeks acknowledgement and is willing to do anything to achieve it. But being an abused orphan his view on love is screwed and he thinks just gaining everyones respect and admiration is enough. And how will he achieve this? Well the Hokage has the highest amount of respect, right? If he becomes Hokage then everyone is forced to acknowledge his existance at last. But what he truly wants is for someone to care for him, acknowledge his true self and love him for who he is, he seeks this because he has never felt it and he wants it. To feel wanted and loved is what he desperately seeks the only way he knows how. Hinata is what Naruto wants, Kishimoto knows this, we know this, but Naruto doesn’t know it yet.

Hinata gives Naruto some healing ointment. She wants to help him but her shyness is hard to overcome. With all her strength she manages to overpower it and holds out the healing ointment for him. Kurenai, being a matured adult and Shino’s observation capacity, inmediatly realize the true meaning behind Hinata’s gesture to Naruto. Naruto turns around to look at her immediatly when she said his name but he gets confused by her kind act. He simply cant believe that someone is nice to him.

Naruto doesn’t understand why Hinata would give this to him. Kurenai helps in the awkward situation and encourages him to take it. It’s actually quite sad that Naruto reacts in this way. It shows just how foreign kind gestures towards him are. He accepts her gift, thanks her and calls her a nice girl. When he’s on his way we see him rub his hand on his back, which is a gesture someone usually does when you’re a little embarresed, but pleased. He also has a big smile on his face. He appreciated her gift and i think that it made him start to really like her. Naruto is not one to often tell someone what he really thinks about them, because he’s afraid people will find out about his insecurities (it’s why he has his tough guy bravado) but he calls her nice and he truly ment it. This is one of the first steps of Naruto’s subconscious love for her, her kindness towards him.

Neji begins to demoralize Hinata, even before the fight has started.

Besides Neji’s hatred for her, she still sees him as a brother.

He makes a psychological analysis of Hinata. Her personality, insecurities and worries. Hinata reveals that she wants to change herself.

Look at Naruto’s reaction. He has the face of someone trying to hide his emotions (his eyes makes it seem like he doesn’t care that much) but he actually looks very serious. He knows how it feels like to want to change yourself. He is in a constant battle within himself for the same reason everyday of his life. Neji thinks that destiny cannot be changed. Both his and Hinata’s are already determined. And Hinata’s destiny says that she will always be a failure, no matter how much she tries to improve.

These words deeply affect Naruto, who sees himself reflected in Hinata. (Much like how he saw Haku as being like him, much like he’ll see Gaara as being like him, he sees part of himself in Hinata)

Neji continues to mentally attack Hinata, and we see how Naruto gets more and more angry. He cant bare to witness this situation in which he feels completly identified with Hinata.

He tries to hold in his anger that is turning so intense that some of the kyuubi features start to appear (kyuubi lips). Seeing this girl that was so kind to him (wanted to help him in the written exam and gave him some healing ointment) and that he can now see himself reflected in being treated this badly makes him so angry that he’s literally shaking and his inner demon of hate is even leaking a little. He knows he cant interfere even though he clearly wants to so he has to hold it in....

But he cant hold it in any longer and he finally explodes. He screams very loadly and tells her ”YOU CAN CHANGE, DONT LISTEN TO HIM”. He then shouts at Neji to stop decide things about people (her) and then encourage Hinata to fight back and stand up for herself, just like he would do. Hinata is mesmerised by Naruto’s sudden words of support and mentally gets herself together and thanks him for snapping out of her depressing state. One must ask themselves if Naruto was only focused on Neji, why did he directly address Hinata when he exploded ”YOU CAN”. It was Hinata he paid attention to, he saw her crying and knew she was in a similar situation as him because of Neji’s words. He also tells her to stand up for herself and fight back, he encourages her and supports her, he believes in her and he hasn’t even seen her fight yet. He’s probably the first to even support her at all actually.

When Hinata’s attitude changes we see Naruto cheer for her with much more enthusiasm and intensity.

But when Hinata’s attack fails and she gets hit by the gentle fist instead, we see how Naruto gets very shocked and sad. Naruto is shown being distraught when things seem not to be going well.

Neji tells her to forfeit, but Hinata is determined, she has adopted the same nindo as Naruto. Naruto thinks that if she gives up, it’s as if he does it too and he is admiting to all the people who call them failures they were right. He wants Hinata to prove this isn’t true. Then he sees her do just that while simultaneously using his own words. Every single day he coexist with people who considers him a failure that will never change. So when he sees Hinata adopting the same attitude as him just by his words, hes a goner. This created a huge impact on him. (Look at his face, he’s completly mesmerised by her (a common theme)).

Naruto reveals that he never knew Hinata was this incredible. He went from thinking she was shy and weird, to then being kind and nice and to know being incredible. That shows how huge an impact this was on him. I find it nice that his peers are suddenly so supportive, Lee says he sees the similarities between them and Sakura even tells him that she has always been watching him. If even their peers notice how Hinata looks at Naruto then you know it’s something special. This is when Naruto really started to notice Hinata.

Look closely at the top right picture of Naruto. You can just make out that he’s actually blushing. He probably thinks ”Why would Hinata be watching me?” But he doesn’t feel uncomfortable but rather intrigued as his emotions heightened.

Look at his reaction when she started to cough up blood. Everyone else didn’t react that much but Naruto looks on the verge of panic. His reactions are very similar to when he recognized that Haku was like him. But even more deeply.

That will be all for this part. Next part i’ll continue with the fight. Here is the previous part if you missed it.

Next part: Part 3

Part 1

#naruhina #pro naruhina #hinata #naruto

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ready-to-obeyme · 4 years

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[OM!] Blue and Yellow (Mammon/MC)

Summary: For his birthday, Mammon receives two gifts from you: a silver bracelet with charms the colors of his eyes and something else from you he always dreamed of receiving but never expected to.

Alternatively: It’s Mammon’s birthday. Your yearning shows and having been caught red-handed, you confess.

Notes: Happy Late Birthday, Mammon! (sorry finals just happened to land on ur week but here it is!!) gn!reader

For his birthday, you leave him a gift wrapped in a golden box topped with a golden bow. Mammon knows it is you because he can recognize your handwriting almost immediately, considering the late nights he’s spent studying with you and watching you write out the notes that he has already forgotten. Mammon sits on the bed and cradles the gift in his lap, flipping over the name tag to check and-- yep, that’s your name-- before opening the ribbon with a rabbit’s heartbeat.

His gift is a silver bracelet with two charms the color of his eyes. Mammon knows it is the exact shade and tone of blue and yellow; he’s brought it up to his eyes in the mirror once and compared, and there is no mistaking it. How could you have noticed such a small detail? Mammon thinks, remembering how many times he’s hidden them behind his sunglasses, How do you remember?

Mammon has seen this before, how attentive you can be when it comes to the people you care about. Satan mentions the title of a movie once and you’ve already given him your copy of the DVD to borrow by the end of the next week. It’s been months since Asmo mentioned his favorite shade of lip-gloss, but the moment you find the exact color, you tell him immediately. You notice that Belphie scrunches his nose at the scent of a certain spice and by the next rotation you have already made sure to make dinner more pleasant for him.

You love them all in so many small ways that tell them that you see them and that you love them as they are. Your love is as warm as a cup of hot chocolate on a wintry night and all-encompassing like the sun that shines in the human realm.

His fingers play with jewel-colored charms absently as his heart simmers warmly at the thought of being known, of being loved by you.

And suddenly, like always, Mammon wants to see you.

It is nearly one in the morning when he comes bursting into your room, demanding answers when he isn’t sure if he has any questions. What does he exactly want to know-- whether you love him as much as he loves you? Does he dare to ask, knowing how much he already trips over himself, trying to let you know he cares?

His abrupt arrival would have earned him his brothers’ ire but with you, you only glance your head his way and grin. Mammon sees your smile and all the words ready on his lips die before they could ever make a sound.

“Hey, Mammon,” you greet him, putting your pen down and shifting your focus over from your work to him. “What’s up?”

Mammon tries to not feel warm knowing how easily he got your full attention or to think about how you’ve always been like this, attentive and kind, treating him like he has never been more deserving of your affection. And, damn it, he’s already distracted.

Before he can reboot himself, your eyes widen in realization and you glance over at your clock before clasping your hands together and gasping. “It’s past midnight already?”

You rise to your feet and engulf him in a hug he is entirely not ready for. “Happy Birthday, Mammon!” You laugh. “I was hoping to catch you before you slept so I’d be the first one to say this to you.”

(Hasn’t he always said that? That he was your first? Proclaiming he was your first man? He’s said it so often that even he feels like a broken record. But hearing you wanting to be the first one to wish him a happy birthday makes him already want to fall apart.)

“W-Well, of course!” Mammon sputters automatically, though he feels his cheeks begin to warm at your sincerity. “Of course you’d want to be the first to say ‘happy birthday’ to the Great Mammon.”

If you knew how happy he actually felt hearing you say that, then you made no indication of it aside from the way your eyes softened. (Mammon tries to not be hung up on that, but he does; he wishes you’d always look at him like that.)

“And, besides that’s, uh--” He coughs into his hand. “That’s besides the point. Though it k-kinda makes me happy to hear you say that...” Mammon raises the silver bracelet that he has already wrapped around his wrist and hopes his blush isn’t obvious. “Stupid human,” he grumbles. “Why couldn’t you have just given me your gift yourself?”

“Oh! I-- um…”

Mammon takes a risk and opens his eyes to glance over at you, only to be fully rewarded for his bravery when he sees you look to the side, embarrassed, with a hand to your cheek. He can barely stop himself from gaping when you stammer out an explanation.

“I know, I wanted to too but…” You hide your hands behind your back-- something Mammon has noticed is a sign of your nervousness, and he absently catches the other signs as well. You worry your bottom lip as you think of words to say and look to the side in attempts to calm yourself down. “I guess, I don’t know, I was feeling shy about this one?”

“Shy?” Mammon echoes, looking down at the charms for a brief moment. “Because the charms are supposed to be the color of my eyes?”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be,” you say. “I mean, I hope--”

You let out a sound of surprise at his ears when he comes to wrap his arms around you. “They’re the right color,” he mutters, tightening his embrace on you when he feels you hand brush tentatively over his back. “I don’t know how you got ‘em the exact shade, but they’re right. They’re both right.”

He hears you mumble something into his shoulder, and he has to force himself to retreat from your comfortable embrace (he could stay like that for hours, if he were being honest) for you to speak. “Wha? What didja say?”

Instead, you tug him close to you until the two of you are chest-to-chest, and Mammon can feel his heart skip a beat when you do. He wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating, and he feels his cheeks grow hotter. “Hey…” He calls out your name softly, gently shaking your shoulder. “I wanna hear what you said,” he says, watching as you slowly come out from the space in his shoulder to look up at him.

Mammon doesn’t know what he expects you to say, when he thinks back to this event in retrospect. Maybe something along the lines of “because I like the color of your eyes” or hoping for something like “I notice a lot of things, but you’re special!” but ending up with some stubborn silence.

“It’s because I'm in love with you,” he hears you say instead.

And Mammon feels his mind slow to a stop.

He thinks his brothers would laugh at him now if they were here. They would know first-hand how his initial attachment to you transformed into something more as time passed. He began to notice the little things about you and consequently, fall in love with them too with how they make you who you are. (He wonders if it was around the same time you started to notice things about him, like the color of his eyes.) And his brothers would have teased him, with all the fondness they could muster, when he freezes and stares at you in shock as he gets everything he could have possibly have asked for.

It is when he feels you gently detangle yourself from his stiff arms that Mammon closes his mouth with a click and says the only coherent thing he could say.

"Really?"

He winces when he receives a glare from you and he supposes he deserved that. A rushed apology is on his lips but you beat him to the punch by huffing and turning to the side.

"Are you really making me confess to you again?"

"Wait," Mammon stammers, feeling light as he reconfirms what he just heard. "Wait, no, that's not--" He says your name once to get your attention, your embarrassment having taken the forefront of your focus. He tries a second time, saying your name softly, reaching out for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours in a bold move he didn't think himself capable of. (Asmo would be proud.)

Mammon says your name a third time and you look up at him, and oh, there is the softness in your eyes again that he yearns to see.

"I love you too," he says, squeezing your hand and hoping that your heart leapt like his when he does that. "I-I've been in love with ya for the longest time! I-I mean…" He fumbles, feeling your thumb caress his hands in an intimate manner he didn't think possible. "Of course I've been in love with you. How could I not be, you know-- oof!"

You tackle his torso into a hug and squeeze it, as if you're trying to convey the amount of love you have for him. Mammon thinks he knows.

"You idiot," you mutter, always with the fondest tone that Mammon feels himself melt at. "You scared me for a second there."

"O-Oh, yeah, right. Sorry 'bout that." Mammon wrapping his arms around you with purpose, hands around your shoulders as he presses you closer to him. "I was just so surprised--"

"I love you," you say again, and Mammon feels his heart leap again. You giggle into his shoulder. "How many times do you think I'll have to say that before you get used to me saying that to you?"

"I… don't know if I'll ever get used to you saying that."

He hears you laugh and say 'I love you' again, like you will never tire of saying it to him. “Happy Birthday, Mammon,” you whisper, eyes gently looking over him and hand brushing through his hair. "I hope today is going to be a good day for you."

Mammon sighs into the touch and closes his eyes, only to quickly open them when he remembers that you liked the color of them; after all, how else would you have known what color they were if you didn't like looking at them? He grins at you and brings up his wrist to jangle the charms before bringing them back to your waist.

He leans down ever so slightly to press his lips against yours for the first time of many today. The kiss lingers for a moment before Mammon forces himself away and is blown away by how much love you could possibly convey with the way you look at him. "With you here," he murmurs into your skin, "it's already a good day in my books."

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