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shintin · 6 months

Text

Forbidden Flames

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot

Summary: Satoru Gojo receives a letter, inviting him to a secluded cottage in the forest. Is it a trap by curse users or a haunting memory trying to scratch his wounds?

Or a story about how You and Satoru Gojo fucked after years.

Word count: +11 k.

Genre: explicit smut, romance, angst (Jujutsu Kaisen au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, reader-insert, no Y/N, post-breakup, soft Satoru Gojo, curse user reader, no death, too much fluff and kissing, cunnilingus, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex (c’mon! we all want this), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, tear licking, emotional trauma, emotional sex, no manga spoilers.

Notes: Hey there! I wrote this because Gege Akutami left an emotional mark on me. So, you know...

You can read the "Disclaimers" at the end.

Song Recommendation: Forbidden Flames Playlist

You can read my fics on AO3. If you have any questions, don’t be shy and ASK.

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As the afternoon sun cast long shadows through the dense foliage, a mysterious man with stark white hair and a black blindfold stepped into the heart of the desolate wilderness. Satoru Gojo. The air hung heavy with the earthy scent of wet soil mingling with the musty aroma of decaying leaves, a reminder of the rainstorm that had visited the night before.

Every step he took got lost between the giggles and hisses of harmless curses hiding behind the trees with fear. The ground beneath his feet was carpeted with a mosaic of fallen leaves, their vibrant red, orange, and gold colors now muted and lifeless, as if drained of all vitality. Some of them, with still a breath to take, crunched beneath his weight, the sound of a heartrending dirge that reverberated through the desolation.

Tall, gnarled trees stood sentinel on either side, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers as if yearning to trap the unwary. Their towering forms were shrouded in darkness, their essence reduced to withered remnants. They whispered mournful laments in the wind, their voices carrying tales of forgotten sorrows.

The forest, once flourishing and thriving, now seemed like a tragic tableau frozen in time. The canopy above formed a suffocating barrier that only got disturbed by the man's ethereal presence. Wild ferns brushed against his legs, leaving behind a trace of dew upon his black trousers. The moist ground yielded beneath his every step as if reluctant to release its grip from his boots' footprints.

As he pressed further into the jungle, the darkness deepened, the path twisting and turning like a labyrinth of despair. The shadows grew longer, stretching out like grasping tendrils as if eager to ensnare his soul. The silence became oppressive, broken only by the occasional painful cry of a distant creature.

The cottage he had received its address stood as a solitary figure amidst the gloomy jungle, a crumbling monument to forgotten dreams. Its dilapidated walls whispered of lost hopes and shattered promises, its windows veiled with white curtains.

With his hands casually tucked into his pockets, he watched the scene before him, a twisted smile playing upon his lips. He thought it was a perfect place, a trap waiting to spring him. But who would be foolhardy enough to challenge the strongest of all times?

But wait!

He couldn't feel any cursed energy! His six eyes were dumb. There was only one who could blind their watchful gaze.

So, when Satoru Gojo approached the house, his heart quickened after a long time, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins. The stage was set, the elements conspiring to test his resolve. Would he emerge from this shadowed encounter unscathed, or would the jungle claim yet another victim, lost to the depths of its sorrow-laden clutches?

Satoru's focus fixated on the doorknob, a slight gulp revealing his hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed open the door. The scent of something sweet enveloped his nostrils, a reminiscent embrace that momentarily distracted his senses. However, as his eyes met the sight that awaited him, an unexpected revelation struck him with a force that resurfaced long-forgotten memories.

The inside resembled an aged hideout, with wooden walls and colorful chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, casting warm, dappled patterns on the worn tatami floor. In the center of the room, a round table took its place, adorned with a vase of delicate forget-me-not flowers. Flanking the table were two chairs. And then, in the small kitchen stood the person who had left a void in his heart.

"You're late," your voice rang out in a cheerful tone, beckoning him forward. "Come inside. It's chilly out." With your back facing the door, you stood at the counter, appearing preoccupied with unwrapping something.

Caught in a maelstrom of emotions, Satoru's thoughts fragmented like scattered puzzle pieces, their intended purpose obscured by the inner turmoil. His hand held the doorknob tightly, trapped in a state of ambiguity, unable to release its grip.

Was this a mirage? How could it be that when you seemed precisely the way he had traced the outline of your body in the air while lying in bed, unable to sleep?

Yes, of course, there were nights when the desire to run his fingers through your hair filled his dreams. It was inevitable; your scent permeated everything, even riding on the breeze. There were days fatigue misled him, mistaking weariness for the embrace, he craved, only to discover the hollowness within his very bones. Your body was no longer curled around him, no comfort, and in your absence, each day left him icy, with lips turning blue and hands yearning for the warmth of your touch. He felt adrift in a blizzard, seeking the faint flicker of a fire you had extinguished.

What the fuck is wrong with you, Satoru? Think! Is this a manipulation technique?

And then, as if compelled by an unseen power, you turned your head, causing his heart to skip a beat—countless beats. You were undeniably real.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Seeing you was akin to being hit in the knee with a bullet. Satoru's legs nearly gave way, his heart raced, and his hands turned clammy, almost causing him to collapse. He had never felt this urge to tear off his blindfold before, as your departure had happened so abruptly that he didn't have a chance to see you. Although he had committed every detail of you to memory, but this…this… witnessing it in person was an entirely different experience.

He stepped back, feeling the heaviness of the past, necessitating some distance. The harsh truths loomed, threatening to engulf him as he wrestled with the profound effect of your presence. Yet, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, his mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding situation. The reality was so surreal, making it difficult for him to grasp that it was really occurring.

"Why are you just standing there?" you asked, holding a pack of his beloved Kikufuku mochis in your hands. A radiant smile graced your face, illuminating the damp room with its brightness.

He couldn't give two fucks about mochis when your face had that effect on him, always causing him to lose track of where he was, who he was, and what he might say or do. And that familiar smile, it killed him a little. His gaze remained there, lingering for too long, his concealed eyes giving away his thoughts. "Why do you have that look on your face?" you asked, tilting your head with curiosity and stepping closer to him.

As you stood before him, the closeness amplified the wave of emotions within him. Joy and disbelief raced through his veins. The fragrance that surrounded you, so hauntingly acquainted, sparked a rush of nostalgia.

Satoru Gojo was born with a specific purpose, a set of perfect eyes, and the weight of his lineage on his shoulders. He was reserved and calculated. When he mastered the Limitless technique, he concluded that infinite solitude was the only way to survive. Because how he could describe the experience of seeing everything, for when you see everything, you see nothing. An excess of color turns into pure black, an infinite void.

Yes, he was born with those six eyes. People never let him forget. But to you, his eyes were simply eyes. He recalled the first time you teased him about them and how his heart caught in his chest because he had never seen someone as vibrant and colorful as you.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that. The first time he saw you, he felt it. An ache. Like a little electric burn. He felt his life changed.

Gradually, his loneliness began to dissipate. He found a place for himself in this chaotic world. With you, he could laugh, cry, joke around, and even be a brat. It was something no one could genuinely grasp—the feeling of finally being alive as a person. Before you, he felt he hadn't truly existed, merely scattered atoms in an indifferent universe following a predetermined path. But you changed everything. You dismantled and rebuilt him anew. You molded him, nurtured him, and despite him being the strongest, you kept him safe.

Without a noble title or material wealth, you were everything that went against the expectations of the Clan Elders. Yet, you stood faithfully by his side, precisely where he believed you belonged. Or at least, that's what he presumed.

Then, on that fateful day, the day he desperately wished was nothing more than a dreadful nightmare, reality unfolded before him. How could it be real? He stood there, confronted by the lifeless bodies of two Higher Ups and their protectors, with you covered in their blood. It was inconceivable. He couldn't accept that you were responsible for such a gruesome scene. Yet, you showed no remorse. You firmly believed it was the only solution, fed up with their destructive actions that brought ruin upon sorcerers deemed insignificant. You had accepted the notion that a problem without a remedy should be eradicated like an unwelcome weed.

On that day, he considered shaking your shoulders and demanding that you deny it all. He even contemplated going against everyone because what was the fucking point of wielding such power if he couldn't safeguard the woman he loved? The thought of quitting and escaping with you crossed his mind, too. He was willing to sacrifice everything: power, wealth, status, even his own life. However, you didn't desire any of those things.

His friend, Suguru Geto, once posed a question: Was he Satoru Gojo because he was the strongest, or was he the strongest because he was Satoru Gojo? At that time, he had no answer. A 17-year-old couldn't possibly find a response to such a profound question. However, when you entered his life, everything changed. Being the strongest lost its significance. He was just Satoru Gojo, and he was who he was because you loved him. His existence held meaning because you touched his life. He saw because he needed to gaze upon you. He spoke because he longed to hear your voice.

And then, similar to his best friend, after causing a bloodbath, you also walked out of his life. Yet, this time, it wasn't solely loneliness that engulfed him. It felt like one of his lungs had been taken away, and he heavied without you by his side through each passing moment. He became nothing once more. There was a hole in his life where you used to fit perfectly, and no matter what he did to try and fill it, nothing worked.

It was a strange anguish, a pain he never anticipated or conceived of. It consumed him from within, setting him ablaze with a profound emptiness. Then, defying the assumption that someone as formidable as him could experience sorrow, he was burdened with the task of erasing you. It was as if you were deemed nothing more than a blemish, a dishonor.

"What... what look?" he struggled to say, his voice tinged with a desperate yearning. Regret lingered in his tone as his words fell short. With a touch of vulnerability, he shut his eyes beneath the comforting confines of his blindfold, seeking refuge in the veil of darkness. Taking a deep breath, he consciously filled his lungs, using them as an anchor amidst the swirling storm of sensations enveloping him.

"That look," you remarked, your voice carrying a mischievous tone that floated in the atmosphere. "It's as if you don't trust me," you added teasingly. A few playful strands of hair escaped their intended position and delicately framed your face, casting a bewitching allure. An irresistible urge welled within him, compelling him to extend his hand and tuck those strands behind your ear—stupid muscle memory. However, he restrained himself, his hand suspended mid-air, resolute in resisting the magnetic pull of his desires.

"Why did you invite me here?" Satoru voiced, his grip on the doorknob loosening as the impact of reality settled upon him. The initial shock transformed into a lucid understanding. He wasn't oblivious. He knew that you were aware of his assignment to eliminate you. So, why? Was it because you recognized your unstoppable nature? Was it because you had realized that the blackhole existed within you, devouring everything you once held dear unless someone intervened?

"You could have refused to come, yet here you are," you whimsically remarked, a devilish glint in your eyes as you punctuated your words with a wink. You strolled over to the weathered table and set the pocket upon its aged surface.

"Cut it out!" Satoru snapped, his frustration mounting. "You know, I had no idea it was you!" His heart thumped in his chest, urging his feet to move forward, even as his mind screamed at him to flee. A sense of unease gripped him, acknowledging the futility of engaging in a battle he felt ill-prepared to win.

You turned towards him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as your hands stayed concealed behind your back. Leaning against the chair, you arched an eyebrow, your eyes locked on him. "I have a feeling you knew it was me as soon as you arrived at the house," you declared, a jovial tone lacing your words. "After all, I'm the only one capable of concealing my cursed energy from you."

"We both know that I shouldn't be here. I—" Satoru's sentence dissolved, left unfinished, as your hand reached out, bridging the gap between you with a gentle touch. Infinity never worked with you. Even the very essence of the cursed energy recognized that you posed no threat to him. Furthermore, he would gladly provide you with any justification to touch him.

Lost in his reverie, Satoru suddenly became acutely aware of your presence. The magnitude of his longing and the depth of his yearning surged within him. In that instant, he recognized the immense emptiness you had left and how much he had missed you. Emotions swirled together, blending past and present, uncertainty and desire, in a delicate dance that would shape your fates.

"Why are you here, then?" you inquired, and his eyes met yours, reflecting the same yearning that dwelled in his heart. "Tell me, did you come in to kill me?" With a deliberate movement, you folded his fingers, molding them into the shape he would use to unleash his hollow purple. Bringing his hand close to your heart, you held it there. Despite the gravity of the situation, a soft smile adorned your lips.

He couldn't do this.

Taken aback by your unexpected gesture, Satoru swiftly withdrew his hand from your grasp. Anger and heartbreak swirled within him, entwining in a tumultuous storm. The realization hit him like a relentless wave, crashing against the shores of his consciousness. How had you drifted so far apart? When had the divergence between your paths become so profound that he failed to notice? The weight of your choice, to embrace the life of a curse user, to tread a road stained with blood, bore down upon him with a heavy burden. The pain on his face mirrored the fracture within his heart, a sense of loss mingling with a flicker of betrayal.

He wished he could say something. He wished he could start yelling, expressing all the thoughts and desires he had harbored since then—whether shouting, pouring out his heart, or expressing frustration. However, he adhered to the predetermined script you anticipated because he loved you unconditionally, unable to deny you anything.

"I didn't think so," you murmured, closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his in a way that effortlessly eroded his resistance.

You tilted his face down, your hand caught somewhere behind his neck and the base of his jaw, and you kissed him softly and slowly, heat filling his blood with dangerous speed.

One of his hands naturally found its way to the back of your waist, holding you with a gentle yet possessive grasp, while the other securely clasped your arm, pulling you closer.

He felt incredible against you, your bodies fitting perfectly. Nothing ever came easier than kissing you. Every thought and worry wicked away, replaced by the feel of his mouth against your skin, his hand claiming your body.

In that moment, his eyes, his legacy, his clan's name, and the orders given about you faded away. This was his true purpose.

As your tongues entwined, a surge of electricity coursed through his veins, his body responding to the intoxicating enchantment of your touch. Your fingers traced the outline of his blindfold while others clung to his uniform as if he were your sole fulcrum in a world spinning out of control. Your back arched, and he embraced you tighter, his grip firm yet tender, his long fingers leaving an indelible mark upon your skin.

Breathless, as if you had just completed a marathon, you reluctantly pulled back from the heated exchange. Drawing him nearer, he yielded willingly, allowing you to guide him wherever you desired because wherever you led was where he believed to be his destination.

"Take this off," you beseeched, desperation and sorrow permeating your words as your forefinger lifted his blindfold and let it fall to the floor. His tousled hair cascaded softly over his forehead, unable to hide the azure eyes that had once captivated your heart.

In his eyes, tragedy and beauty could be seen, a stoicism that wouldn't be shaken, and childlike joy that couldn't help but flow.

He swallowed, and you shifted your hand to his ear, lightly grazing his earlobe with your pinkie before tracing down his jawline. There was no rejection, yet no clear confirmation either. Your hand brushed against his undercut as you continued.

"There you are," you whispered, your voice laden with kindness. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, a solitary droplet making its way down your cheek as you gently cradled his face in your hands. He looked down at you, counting each tear on your lovely cheeks.

He clasped your hand, kissing your palm before guiding it to rest upon his heart. It was the same foolish heart, steadfastly beating for you, never having faltered. Through teary eyes, you looked at him, and he remained struck by the sheer beauty that not even your tears could diminish.

As your bottom lip quivered beneath his touch, quickly, with a light sweep of his hand, he wiped away the tears that stained your stunning eyes. You missed him too, didn't you? Was it painful for you, too? Silly girl! You couldn't maintain your carefully constructed facades for more than ten minutes when it came to him.

The realization washed over him, dispelling any remaining doubts.

Without a second thought, he effortlessly lifted you, your legs encircling his waist while your hands secured around his neck. Engrossed in a fervent kiss, both of you surrendered to the moment as he clasped your back firmly, pulling you closer to himself, relishing the flavor of your lips.

Letting go wasn't an option when every fiber of his being had missed you.

Determined and resolute, he carried you out to a room he presumed to be the bedroom, even though it didn't matter whether there was a bed or a simple mattress; what mattered was the way your touch kindled a blazing fire within him, and he had no intention of bearing that flame alone.

Keeping you securely nestled in his arms, he forcefully kicked open the door and lowered you onto the welcoming comfort of the bed. The urgency to discard his black jacket left no room for delay. At the same time, your nimble hands deftly undid the buckle of your pants, but before you could remove them entirely, his hands moved with an instinctual hunger, swiftly stripping you of the garment and casting it aside as if propelled by an untamed fervor. The passion between you burned fiercely, filling the room with an all-encompassing energy that eclipsed any other thoughts or worries.

With a quick movement, he discarded his black t-shirt, revealing the well-defined curves of his chest that shimmered with a touch of sweat. His desire was tangible, his lust unmistakable as he straddled between your parted legs, his hands grasping your nape.

The taste of his lips met yours, initiating a sequence of fervent kisses that persisted without pause, each delving deeper than the last. The world around you lost its significance as your breaths synchronized in rhythm, the heat between your bodies escalating.

In the meantime, your hands moved swiftly, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

As his lips briefly separated from yours, he uttered a whispered confession. "I hate how bad I want you," he admitted, his voice carrying a raw sincerity. However, before you could reply, his attention shifted to your neck, where his teeth gently grazed your sensitive flesh, leaving behind tracks of tantalizing nibbles and passionate kisses.

You couldn't help but release a gasp as pleasure and a twinge of pain electrified your senses, sending delightful shivers coursing down your spine. In the throes of passion, your hand curled into a fistful of his hair, a silent request for more. Call it masochist, but he loved it when you did this. He tenderly pulled at your hair in response, tilting your head back ever so slightly, baring more of your vulnerable neck to his hungry mouth.

Then, you did what came naturally to you. With a voice brimming with longing and ecstasy, you spoke his name, "Satoru," the sound slipping from your lips like a hushed prayer.

His actions came to an abrupt pause. His lips separated from your skin, and his grasp on your hair loosened as if a sudden realization had hit him like a splash of icy water. It was ironic how you still possessed this power over him, a power that could both thrill and unsettle him.

The sound of his name on your lips had become something he treasured, and damn it, he had missed hearing it again. Just like every fucking tiny thing he had missed about you.

With a sudden movement, he withdrew his head from the crook of your neck and brought his forehead close to yours. His hands found solace in brushing back strands of your hair with comforting strokes.

He shut his eyes, and in a whisper, his voice carried a hint of fragility, a rawness that tugged at your heartstrings. "Say it again," he pleaded, his voice breaking under the pressure of unexpressed sentiments. It was as if that simple word held immense significance, a lifeline to his heart that he desperately craved.

Without hesitation, you took a steadying breath, the name forming on your lips.

"Satoru."

"S-Say it kinder."

"Satoru."

"Say it slower."

"Satoru."

"Say it gentler."

"Satoru."

"Say it louder."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you wanna tell me you miss me."

"Satoru…"

"Say it as if you're annoyed that I eat so many sweets."

"Satoru!"

"Is this why you made the trip to Sendai just to get me those mochis?"

…

"Say it."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you ever cared, spared a single thought for me."

"SATORU."

"Say it as if when you lied in bed, you remembered something I once said."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if it hurt you too when someone said my name with yours."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if every time a door opened, you too expected me to walk out of it, that every time you cooked, you hummed my favorite songs."

"S-Satoru…"

"Say it as if you need me."

"Satoru."

"Say it again."

"Satoru."

"Again."

"…Satoru."

"Say it as if you want to tell me something important."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you won't stay."

"Toru."

"No. Not like this."

"Satoru?"

"Please."

"Satoru."

"Say it as if you want me to know you're gonna run away again."

"Satoru…"

"Huh. Better. Now say it as if you wanna tell that you slept badly without me, that you only dreamed of me, and in the morning, you woke up exhausted without having any desire to live."

"Satoru."

"You don't have a line, do you? No remorse. No regret. Not even a single thought for the man you left behind like a walking ghost. And you won't ever stop."

"Satoru."

"Once you were gone, they gathered all your belongings as evidence. See this hair tie on my wrist?" He lifted his hand. "This and your sweatshirt, which no longer carries your scent, are the only things I have left. Say it as if you still have that shirt of mine."

…

"Say it!"

"Sa-to-ru."

"Did you know that I actually thought if I messed myself up, went all self-destructive, and threw a massive tantrum, you'd come back? I mean, why should I bother taking care of myself? That was supposed to be your job, right?"

"Sa…toru."

"Oh, by the way, I completely wrecked that bench on the hill where you used to sit. And then I went ahead and destroyed the whole damn place, then just sat right there amidst the wreckage. I mean, why should I even give a damn when you stopped caring about me? Say it as if you get where I'm coming from."

"Satoru…"

"Yet you know what's funny? Ask me if I still love you like the first day?"

"Satoru?"

"It can't be just me, right? You can't be done with me. Tell me you love me."

…

"Okay. It's—"

"Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru. Satoru…"

Everything he thought he knew flew right out the window. He had noticed the tremor in your breath and the shake in your voice, but the desperate murmurs of his name caused his eyes to flutter open. Your face was marked with the faint traces of tears, glistening in the light.

You blinked, revealing a spectrum of sadness and beauty unlike anything he'd seen before. The ability to convey so much with just a glance caught him entirely off guard.

Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips against the curve of your cheeks, softly caressing them. Nuzzling his nose against your skin, he lovingly kissed away the salty tears, his tongue delicately brushing your face with a soothing touch. Each tender movement provided a comforting solace during your emotional moment.

As he lovingly attended to your tears, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra. He paused, eyes widening in surprise. However, before any words could escape, you leaned in and kissed him. In that single gesture, you conveyed your desires, and he, in turn, found his answer within the depths of that passionate kiss.

As soon as his palms glided over your smooth skin, delicately capturing your erect nipple between his fingers, the bra was tossed somewhere amidst the bedding.

"Lie back," Satoru instructed. He then crawled onto you, your bare chests meeting. He supported himself with his arms on either side of your head to ensure he didn't crush you under his weight.

He positioned himself atop you, overwhelmed by the yearning that had built up in your absence. The thirst to have you beneath him had grown insurmountable. He had craved the sight of your body begging him to take you, the undeniable desire radiating from you.

He locked eyes with you, keeping you in his gaze as he absorbed every aspect of your beauty. The polished planes of your face shimmered with fresh tears, adding a new layer to the bliss. Your eyes were rimmed with redness, solely for him, and this sight rendered him speechless.

Because what if he accidentally stumbled upon the wrong words, and the magic vanished, snatching you away once more, leaving him with nothing but a pumpkin carriage and a single pair of shoes?

He didn't want his arms to be deprived of your warmth. Your touch. Your lips. God, your lips. Your mouth on his neck. Your body wrapped around his. He couldn't bear losing you again, and the realization was like a pendulum the size of the moon. It wouldn't stop slamming into him.

Blinking his white lashes, he swallowed back the fear building in his throat.

What an irony!

The strongest wasn't fearless.

With his knee between your thighs and his body pressing closer, he realized he was paying attention to nothing but the dandelions blowing wishes in his lungs.

"When we were together, I became you," he stated. "You became the reflection I saw in the mirror, and I liked it more. So, I stopped being myself. It was fine because I had you. But when you left, I lost myself along with you."

"Satoru," you called, your voice soft, so soft. He wasn't unfamiliar with the touch of women, but yours were gentler, yet deadlier than them all. "I'm sorry for bringing us to this point." You drew his form closer. The resonating beats of your heart were audible, pulsing deeply within your chest. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Your words unleashed a tumult of feelings within him. Goddammit. He wasn't lost before he met you, but he found himself after having you, only to get lost more after losing you.

Satoru's tears stung as they fell backward down his throat, burning as they went. "Kiss me, and I'll forget everything," he uttered.

And you complied. You kissed him as if swimming through rivers of honey, as if being dipped in pure gold, like diving into an ocean of bliss, and he didn't realize you two were drowning because he was too caught up in the current to notice. Nothing held significance anymore—neither rules, nor the room, nor even the entire fucking Jujutsu society.

All that mattered was this.

This.

This very moment. These lips. This delicate body pressed against his, and these warm hands always discovering new ways to hold his heart.

Oh, My!

He wanted so much more of you. He wanted every part of you. And he kissed you back. Like a mild breeze. Like cherry blossoms. Like a blue spring.

Again.

Satoru drew away. It remained a secret, but piecing himself back together hurt just as much as falling apart. It felt like an ache that needed to be soothed.

You were the cure, so his finger lightly grazed the corner of your mouth, tracing its shape, curves, and subtle crevices. As he kissed the corner of your eyebrow, he whispered your name. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, causing a slight squirm in your body. He planted a kiss on your neck, just beneath your earlobe, and you tilted your head, inviting him in. Perhaps you resisted the urge to plead for more, for a faster pace.

You used to love this, remember?

His lips moved down the expanse of your neck, delicately tracing the sensitive skin of your collarbones. Not content to be passive, your hands ran down his back, roaming over his broad shoulders, pressing into his back dimples, and clutching his hips. With a handful of his hair, you pulled him closer, leaving small kisses on his neck, arms, and chest.

It was incredible. Being with you, touching you, having you like this. The adrenaline rush was so powerful and euphoric that it made everything feel within reach.

He muttered your name, his lips mouthing the letters, barely speaking.

He pressed his lips against your upper lip.

He ran his tongue along your lower lip.

He planted kisses beneath your chin, on the tip of your nose, along your forehead, temples, and cheeks across your jawline. Then he moved to your neck, behind your ears, and the space between your breasts. Delicately, he nibbled on your sensitive nipples, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly button until his entire form moved down your figure, disappearing as he shifted downward, and suddenly, his chest was hovering above your hips.

As his lips descended towards the hem of your underwear, he lifted his head right before crossing that boundary, locking eyes with you. His gaze carried a mix of intense reverence and a silent question.

You met his gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between you. Your nod conveyed an affirmation, a wordless permission to continue. With your approval, he lowered his head once again. Before you knew it, he skillfully used his teeth to remove that small piece of fabric while the captivating scent drove him wild with desire.

Having removed your panties, his lips continued exploring, leaving heated kisses and lingering caresses from your toes to your thighs. Firmly holding your calves, he parted your legs, creating just enough space for his head to fit between them.

Your thighs were lifted, obscuring him from your sight. All you could see was the top of his head, the curve of his shoulders, and the unsteady rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Eventually, even that view vanished as his lips closed around your clit, causing your head to fall back and muffled moans to escape your lips.

Satoru's large hands trailed down and up your exposed upper thighs and ribs, tightly gripping your hips to keep you in place. He delighted in how you squirmed each time his hair brushed against your groin, until his tongue slipped into your hole, and the taste of you made fireworks explode in the back of his head.

With his right hand pressed against your stomach, his tongue danced and teased, evoking ecstatic cries from your lips. His mouth explored the known territories you had never witnessed, yet he remembered them intimately.

While fully engrossed in eating you, he suddenly and intentionally slipped his middle finger inside, and his mouth fervently sought to suck the soul out of your essence as if seeking retribution for all the times he had jerked off thinking about you creaming around his shaft. That's why he left you on the precipice of climax, working his way up your body. Satoru was never cruel enough to deny you the release you craved, so his fingers remained ready.

With an eagerness to witness the pleasure etched across your face, he slowly ascended your body, his touch kindling a burning anticipation within you. Continuing his exploration, his adept fingers navigated their way to your most intimate region, gently pressing against the delicate entrance.

"Let me know if it hurts, alright?" he whispered, his nose caressing the skin of your stomach, placing sporadic kisses around your breasts and collarbones to alleviate any tension. His disheveled hair and moist lips were evidence of the indulgence in your sweet taste.

"Take it easy— ahhh!"

He wore a satisfied smile as two of his large fingers effortlessly slid into your slit. Your nails dug into the sheets, whimpers escaping your lips as his hand rhythmically moved up and down within your tight walls.

Your mouth opened in a soundless moan, and he peppered you with kisses all around. Tears glistened in your eyes, and tiny strands of hair clung to your sweaty forehead. When his thumb rubbed, and the fingers hit all the right spots, your throat wailed in frustration.

You firmly grasped his free arm and tugged him towards you, bringing him closer until he was on top of you. You might have turned into a cold-blooded curse user, left dead bodies behind, or broken his heart apart, but you were still the same girl beneath him. The girl who would laugh with joy and steal his treats. The girl who would fiercely fight by his side and protect him. The girl who would easily surrender and moan in his ear.

He pressed his lips against yours, a reminder of the residual sweetness on his tongue. Just like in the old days, a soft moan escaped your lips as soon as you felt your own taste. If this gesture could convince you to stay with him, why not revel in it? He willingly opened his lips, inviting you to delve deeper, your tongues intertwining and brushing against his teeth.

The stinging bitterness of the past was long gone. He had forgotten everything. Although there was something he knew he shouldn't forget, he couldn't recall why or what it was. With his hard length suffering in his boxers and his digits thrusting backward and forward, paying attention to anything else was hard.

Seeing your desperation for his touch proved to be his downfall. He could die from this, he decided. From wanting you, from the pleasure of being with you.

He wore a smile as you locked eyes and reciprocated with your smile. He pressed his forehead against yours, his skin flushed with heat. With his other hand, he held your head steady while your hands clutched his neck, your palms gliding over the area just above his neckline, and your fingertips tenaciously pressing against his undercut.

"Sato..." you managed to utter, your voice quivering with pleasure as the orgasm washed over you, consuming your senses. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body, inducing uncontrollable tremors. Amidst your release, a single tear broke free, tracing a glistening path down your cheek, much like the cascade of emotions that flowed within you.

While he remained atop you, his voice reached your ears, his lips near your earlobe. "Can you sit up?" he whispered, burying his face in the curve of your neck, allowing your ragged breaths to brush against his shoulder.

Still struggling to catch your breath, you managed to mumble, "Yeah, but..." However, before you could complete your sentence, the bedding beneath you shifted as Satoru pulled you into his arms, clutching you tight.

He exhaled and looked at you, but this time, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts, whispers, and feelings of things he had never told you. He looked like he was hanging on his sanity by a fraying thread—you.

He touched your flushed cheeks as if uncertain of your tangible presence. His four fingers caressed the side of your face with tenderness before sliding behind your neck, caught in that in-between spot below your ear, and his thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, then grazing your bottom lip.

He pondered the countless things your lips had done. They had touched, kissed, and pressed against sensitive areas of his skin. They had spoken lies and made promises, and the words they had formed, the shapes and sounds they had shaped, he yearned for them all.

Satoru inched closer, cradling you like you were made of precious crystals. Holding you and looking at his own hands as if he couldn't believe you were real and truly there.

"I'm right here, baby. Look at me," you whispered, grasping his hands and kissing them.

All six of his eyes obeyed and stared at you. Gone was the curse user targeting Higher Ups. This woman before him had never done anything wrong. You were perfect and kind, untouched by the horrors of death.

He took hold of your hands and pressed your palms against his face, reclaiming the tears you had bestowed upon him. With an eternity of love, he whispered your name in the softest of whispers.

What if this was a dream?

He shook, shuddered, splintered into teardrops, and you embraced him like no one had before. Overwhelmed by the intensity, he struggled to contain himself, but seeing you cling to him as you might never let go stirred something within him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that you were there, caring for him, desiring him, needing him in this way. It made him believe that this was indeed real.

Gently, you stroked his silvery locks of hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. Gradually, your arms became the arms around his neck; your lips became the lips pressed against his, your body the warmth he felt. Funny how the moment he felt your touch, it burned a hole right through his head and pulled all his thoughts out.

He wasn't even breathing, but he was alive, and he was kissing you. Deeply, desperately. His hands fervently caressed the small of your back as he lifted you onto his lap, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his hips.

Then, it was your turn to reciprocate. You planted kisses all over him—his cheeks, eyelids, chin, the tip of his nose, and the space between his eyebrows. You trailed along his forehead and traced his jawline, covering every inch of his face. These kisses conveyed more than words ever could.

And you took your time.

As your mouth moved down his neck, he let out a gasp. It was a moment to relish. Your tongue continued to worship the hills and valleys of his well-defined arms, tracing the graceful curves of his collarbones. Inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, you savored his taste. Your hands explored his abs, tracing along his navel and the delicate trails of hair beneath.

He broke apart with your small licks here and there, breathing hard, and stared at you dumbfounded. His mind remained hazy, unable to fully comprehend how your fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Tilting your head to a side, you pressed your lips against his again, seeking him with a burning need, a new kind of desperation. Your other hand threaded in his hair, your lips so soft, so urgent against his, like fire and cinnamon exploding in his mouth.

Satoru nibbled your bottom lip in a flash before pulling back slightly. You were flooding his body with so much heat and desire. You parted your lips to sigh in his mouth, and that slight sound of pleasure drove him to the edge of madness.

Just as he was about to bring his mouth to your nipples, your hand suddenly slipped into his underwear and encircled his erectness pressing against your groin.

Oh.

Well.

He clenched his teeth, suppressing a groan. Oh God! He had fucking missed you holding his member in your palm. But you didn't stop at that. He gasped as you began to rub the tip with your thumb. His body ached everywhere as he tasted the colors and sounds that existed nowhere else. Your forehead rested against his chin as you continued to stroke his hardness up and down beneath his boxers. You were untamed, cruel, yet remarkably gentle.

"Take it off, Satoru," you whispered in his ear, your breath ragged. "I want you in me. Deep. Right. Now. Please."

He was beyond the reach of rational thoughts. Beyond words, beyond comprehension. The world was beyond understanding because nothing could ever compare with this. Nothing could ever capture the way he was feeling right now. He was left with only this very moment: You on his lap, your warmth against his hands, and your lustful eyes fixed upon him, making him absolutely insane.

Satoru held onto your waist with a firm grip, lifting you slightly, and in the blink of an eye, his briefs glided down his long legs until their whereabouts became irrelevant in the heat of the moment.

The wetness between your thighs was no longer a hidden secret, just as his hardness was revealed when you surrounded each other everywhere.

He watched as you reached down and guided his erection against your slippery entrance, making a few strokes to ensure the perfect alignment. His racing pulse could probably be felt in your palm and soon inside you.

Using both hands, he gripped your hips and pulled you downward, drawing you closer to him. A gasp escaped your lips as he entered you, always surprised about his size. He intended to allow you time to adjust, but you fervently clung to his neck, hitching your legs around his waist, urging him to penetrate you completely. A scream escaped your lips as you bit into his shoulder blade, but he remained composed, relishing the sensation of stretching you. He cherished the feeling of your inner walls squeezing him and the weight of your body against his balls. To be honest, he would stay like this forever.

Feeling your readiness, his hold tightened, and he started moving your body up and down. You cried out as you nestled your cheek into the curve of his neck, and he felt like dying and somehow being brought back to life in the exact moment, in the same breath.

Fuck! You were full of him.

He raised your thighs, stifling a groan that threatened to rip his throat as your lips met his. It left him bewildered, pondering why he hadn't perished, burst into flames, or snapped in half.

The room was consumed by silence, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breaths. Your chests pressed against each other, colliding with the rhythm of your pulses.

As he sensed your arms tightening around him, he reciprocated with heightened strength, lifting and thrusting you with an intensity that transcended the bounds of restraint. Each movement struck the place he knew too well.

His teeth captured your bottom lip, eliciting a momentary jolt of pleasure. Your nails pressed into his shoulder as his fingers ran through your hair, pulling you nearer, immersing you in the fervent abyss of his mouth. The taste of you was a captivating fusion of sweetness and passion, an intoxicating blend that left both of you craving for more.

He kept trying to say your name, but he found himself unable even to catch his breath, let alone speak a single word.

The pace increased slightly; each thrust was hard, deliberate, wringing gasps, whimpers, and long, rolling moans from you.

Your eyes tingled with tears, falling fast down and traveling quietly down your cheeks. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs two parentheses in your mouth, touching your tongue and the saliva within. It was as if he had discovered an oasis in the vast expanse of a desert, gazing at you with eyes ablaze like fire reflected in water.

"I love you," he whispered over and over, his voice fragile and uneven. His lips covered yours in a tender kiss. He kissed you and tasted your tears, the lasting essence of pleasure in your mouth. He kissed you and kissed you until time toppled over, and your heads spun into a blissful oblivion.

Your head rested against his, and as you delicately nipped at his earlobe, he felt stripped down to his very core, just as he had unraveled you from within. Your sweet little tongue was frantic when you whispered, "I'm yours to love."

Something inside him melted. Hearing your words, he held still for moments, sucking in the air because he felt almost dizzy with satisfaction, running his hands over your thighs.

You. You belonged to him. You didn't erase the pain you had caused. You didn't fix everything you'd broken, but that wasn't what he needed anyway. All he needed was you, and with you, everything would be alright.

He firmly grasped your buttocks, burying his face against your shoulder as he sped up. He was shattered to pieces, but with you, he got put back together differently, better, and more himself than he ever could have been. Gritting his teeth, he succumbed to the impending climax. His hands glided along your back as you shuddered, your inner walls pulsating around him so hard that he couldn't hold back his release. With a growl, he thrust wildly, once, twice, until everything around you both turned to a world of vibrant colors and radiant light, where the sun shone, oceans sparkled, and Sakura trees bloomed.

Both of you were lying on a pillow, breathless and sweaty. Satoru's face was buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand had delicately weaved its way into his hair, fingers stroking the silky strands as you both sought to ground yourself in the aftermath of your orgasms.

You rested your cheek against his head, your voice carrying a hint of breathlessness as you began to speak. "How is Shoko doing?

"She's probably smoking even more now," he murmured, his lips grazing against your shoulder as he pulled you closer. Despite the physical closeness, a deep ache echoed within him, yearning for an even deeper connection that felt just beyond his grasp. The desire to merge both body and soul, to be completely intertwined with you, was tangible in his touch.

His arms tightened around you as if attempting to bridge an unseen gap that couldn't be seen, but he could feel it. Each hug and touch was an attempt to mend the distance that pained him. The depth of his need reverberated through his being. It was visible in the depths of his eyes. It sucked to be this close yet feel so far from someone. But he didn't want to worry. As long as you were together, he believed nothing terrible could happen.

"Why probably so?" you asked, your curiosity piqued as you turned your head towards him. Your lips touched his soft, silky white hair. "Is it because of the numerous missions you're taking?"

"You seem to know every detail of my life," he remarked, turning his head towards you, the closeness so intimate that your noses nearly touched. His hand found its way to your arm, his finger tracing a path down its length, lost in contemplation.

"I've always kept tabs on you. I'm not even ashamed of it," you declared, your attention fixed on his ocean-blue eyes.

He let out a shaky sigh. "There's no longer a reason for me to stay in Tokyo like I used to," he whispered, his voice hinting at wistfulness. The words floated in the air, pregnant with unspoken meanings. As he locked eyes with you, his gaze transformed into a sea of emotions, reflecting a profound depth of feelings that transcended mere words.

"What about your students?"

"They're doing well even without me," Satoru said, his voice filled with fondness and melancholy. As his hand gracefully slid into your hair, he tucked back the strands that obscured your face, revealing the beauty of your features.

His thumb stroked your cheek in a soothing gesture. "Megumi came close to expanding his domain," Satoru continued, his voice filled with a hint of excitement. "Yuji would be thrilled to—"

"No, Satoru!" you interjected, your voice resolute. Your firm interruption halted his sentence as your face displayed a frown, your eyebrows furrowing with determination. "The answer is no!"

Satoru's hand dropped weakly onto the sheets, his fingers losing their previous touch. When his gaze met yours, a deep sadness flooded his eyes, turning the serene ocean within them into a turbulent storm.

He struggled to find the right words to make his case but couldn't resist trying to reason with you. "Come back with me. I have enough power and privilege to protect you—"

"I don't want your protection!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying a sharp edge that cut through his being. The words resounded with a harshness reminiscent of the day you decided to leave, which had left an indelible mark on both of you. It was a day that Satoru had always blamed himself for, haunted by the belief that he had failed to notice you drifting away.

His eyes, filled with sorrow, locked onto yours, silently begging for understanding as he summoned the bravery to express his deepest desires. "Don't you want a life with me?" he questioned, his voice brimming with the dreams and aspirations he had envisioned for both of you. "What about living in a house with blue shutters, windows overlooking the ocean, and—"

"How are you still such a wide-eyed, dreamy little boy, Satoru?" you remarked, your voice tinged with tenderness and sadness. As you spoke, your hand extended, interlocking your fingers with his. "Stop living in a fantasy world," you urged. The words pleaded for him to accept reality and let go of dreams no longer aligned with his chosen path. "Even if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't want to," you continued. "The Jujutsu society is a broken bone that won't set right, and no matter how much you try to mend it, it won't work. I started hunting Higher Ups because I have a purpose. I can't be by your side."

As you raised your head, a glimmer of compassion and understanding shimmered in your eyes. The pain etched on Satoru's face was evident to you. In a gentle tone, you encouraged him, saying, "We've made different choices. Don't judge me because I never questioned why you didn't follow me. Our approaches may differ, but we share the same dream of creating a better world. So, I don't regret leaving, but if there's anything I regret, it's not cherishing every moment I had with you. But I'm doing it right this time. I'm memorizing every detail, so I have something to hold onto."

Your words bounced around in the fog of his head, blurring his senses, misting his eyes, and muddling his logic. In his bones, there was just ice. His entire being wanted to vomit. Reality slapped him in the face, punched him in the jaw, and dumped him into the ocean.

Until today, he thought he had fully come to terms with everything. He believed he had adapted to living with your absence, like a disabled person learning to avoid putting weight on his injured leg. However, deep down, he knew he was living on eggshells, always wondering when something would break, when everything would crumble.

But with your answer, stacks of sorrow grew inside him, settling on his bones as if a cable had twisted around his neck, a worm crawling across his stomach. It was the night, midnight, and the twilight of indecision. Too many pains to bear.

He realized how foolish he had been to believe he could simply blend in and lead an ordinary life.

Satoru.

Satoru Gojo.

Satoru Gojo, The Strongest.

The mere thought of it filled him with mortification.

He shook his head, coughing as his lungs were tormented, heaving strange, horrible gasps until his whole body spasmed into submission. His head was spinning, thoughts knocking into one another. With clenched fists, he fought against the misery, forcing it back down. Not again. Not again. Not again.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, and a thousand pieces of feeling stabbed you in the heart. Realizing how deeply he loved you kept hitting him in the face, the skull, and the spine. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair, displaying signs of wanting to scream, to break something, as if he was on the verge of losing his sanity.

You hugged him, bridging the gap between your bodies and leaning your cheek against his rock-hard chest. Your hands caressed his stomach as your lips left random pecks here and there.

"It's not just your shirt that I have," you expressed. "I also have our shared blanket from our room and a collection of photographs I'm too afraid to look at. I fear that if I see them, I'll go right back to you and beg your forgiveness."

You dropped a kiss on his chin. Then, on the curve of his shoulder and his shoulder blades. Five kisses down his throat, each softer than the last. You kissed his cheeks, hands, and eyelids for every moment of loneliness he had ever endured.

You continued, "My body hasn't realized we are no longer together. It calls out for you at night, unaccustomed to not having you tightly enveloping me like a second layer of skin."

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to gain control of himself. "Why are you putting me through this?" he asked, his hand caught in his hair. "Why are you scratching my wounds?"

"Because I want to remake you again, Satoru. You should get broken apart and rebuild in a way that won't cause you pain anymore." You kissed the hand covering his mouth, not holding back. Keeping your head there, you leaned against his heart.

"It's not as straightforward as a simple yes or no," you said, your voice cracking as you spoke. "Let's just enjoy this moment together..."

A sudden searing heat flashed behind his eyes, and his heart leaped at your response. His hand trembled, and his eyes were willing and wanting but filled with sadness.

He shifted his gaze towards you, his eyes open, jaw clenched tightly, and muscles tense. Breathing heavily, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. The ache in his chest had grown more assertive, more painful.

You lifted your head and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Love is the most twisted curse," you murmured as you tilted his chin toward your mouth. He blinked rapidly. Words were whispered upon his lips that no one had ever spelled out for him. "And we are the most cursed of all, aren't we?" you told him, watching the movement in his throat and his effort to keep it together. It didn't take you long to kiss him again. Tenderly.

Unable to find the right words, he relied on the language of touch, pressing his lips against yours. A sigh escaped into your shared kiss, and you responded by kissing him even more passionately, almost desperately, as if trying to pass over your breaths to him. The taste of salt lingered on your tongues. The wet drops falling on your cheeks made his flesh burn. Unsure of whose tears they were, he continued to cling to you, even if it was almost for the final time.

The saddest world in this whole wide world was "almost." You almost came back to him. He almost had you. You two almost made it.

You woke up with a smile, feeling a pleasant warmth enveloping your skin, remnants of the memories from the previous night. The room was filled with a fresh ambiance, hinted at by the open window that welcomed a gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth filled the air, evidence of the rain that had visited during the night.

Letting out a sigh, you brushed your face against the pillow. Your hand instinctively reached out to where Satoru was supposed to be, but a pang of emptiness washed over you. He wasn't there, and your eyes flew open, a sourness clouding their once-serene gaze. Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, sitting up, a sense of panic pulsed through your veins. The realization dawned upon you—Satoru had left the bed, and his absence spoke volumes. Your glance darted around the room, searching for any signs of his presence, but his clothes were nowhere to be seen.

An agonizing grip took hold of your heart. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside you. You had voiced your decision to part ways, to not be by his side, yet the depth of your desire for him remained steadfast. The pain and the desperate desire for his warmth was a stark reminder that not wanting to be with him didn't mean you were prepared to let go of him completely.

The bitter yet undeniable truth surfaced: as much as you and Satoru were meant to be, fate had not deemed you to last.

You could still feel the lasting presence of Satoru's cursed energy, an invisible thread you could identify even blind. Simply by scent, you would recognize it. It was a power that transcends physical senses, one that would recognize it in death, at the end of the world.

You swiftly snatched your robe and hastened out of the room. And there he was, Satoru, fully dressed, his blindfold tightly secured, sitting still in a chair, facing the untouched mochis. The hair tie was also on the table, indicating that he had removed it from his wrist. You couldn't determine whether it hurt you deeply to see him letting go of a part of you or noticing that he had left his beloved treats untouched.

He wasn't looking at you, so you had time to observe things you hadn't noticed yesterday. He had visibly lost weight. His hair showed signs of splitting and thinning, probably due to stress. Nightmares didn't let him sleep. His uniform appeared wrinkled, and his breaths were unsteady. You knew it wasn't your place to worry about him anymore, but you couldn't help it. Taking care of him had become a habit. He appeared weary, displaying the same profound exhaustion you experienced, filling you with fear.

His shoulders quivered up and down, and you could tell he was crying even though he was silent as a corpse. Your heart quickened as you approached him. With trembling hands, you reached for his blindfold, a desperate attempt because, goddammit, you fucking loved his eyes.

"What are you—" you started to inquire, your voice fading as you recognized that your touch couldn't reach him. He had activated his Infinity. Manually. Deliberately. A wave of profound sadness washed over you, tears welling up in your eyes, yet you swallowed them back, resolved to keep your composure. Your hand hung suspended, mere inches away from him, a symbol of the unbridgeable gap that had grown between you.

Then, in a sudden movement, Satoru stood before you, donning a black jacket that draped his figure. His voice emerged raspy, filled with a raw intensity that conveyed the turmoil within his heart.

"I can't handle this anymore. I can't continue being whatever I am to you," he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of resignation. The understanding that the current situation was no longer viable had taken hold of him. "If you want things to remain this way, I can't ignore the fact that we are enemies at the end of the day." He subtly avoided meeting your gaze, averting his eyes from your messy hair and the persistent sadness in your eyes.

"Can you honestly believe that?" you questioned, your voice brimming with incredulity. You took a step forward, narrowing the physical gap between you. It was essential for him to grasp the magnitude of your anguish and directly witness the toll your choice inflicted upon your heart.

Satoru took a step back, his brows furrowing beneath the blindfold that veiled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what I believe," he declared.

Despite the barrier that prevented physical touch, you closed your eyes, driven by the overwhelming desire to bridge the divide. Ignoring the protective shield of his Infinity, you leaned in, your lips seeking his in a desperate act of defiance. Tears streamed down your closed eyes as he relinquished the barrier that kept you apart. You pressed your lush mouth against his. It never took him long to respond, to part his lips. He kissed you back, holding your head steady with his hand while his other embraced you tightly. He had your heart, and you loved him quite horribly, too. This fact always smacked you over the head so hard you felt dizzy.

You held each other tightly, his arms enveloping you as his fingers intertwined with your hair. In that stolen moment, you caught a glimpse of the life you longed for—a life filled with love. Having this every day was within reach, but the harsh reality of the jujutsu world loomed, casting a shadow over your fragile dreams. The awareness that he would be exploited until his final breath burdened you deeply. Unable to witness his suffering, you knew you couldn't change your decisions. You had to reset this Jujutsu World. For him. For his students. For the happiness you owed yourself.

As your lips reluctantly separated, a bittersweet trace of saliva remained between you. Satoru gripped your shoulders, and as you glanced up, you noticed his blindfold was damp, indicating the tears he had shed.

You lowered your head. "I wish you had never crossed paths with me," you murmured, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground until he reached out and lifted your chin.

"I wouldn't take that chance. Not in a million infinities. Because there was love, even if it didn't change anything, even if it made the pain worse, love was there," he said, staring at your mouth. "I'll love you in this life. I'll love you in death and in whatever lies after. And likely even beyond that," he whispered. The words did something to you. They burned something inside of you. You swallowed hard. A fire consumed your mind. "No matter what, I'll always love you," he declared, and pain filled your veins. You could feel it in your blood.

"Satoru," you whispered. Your eyes fogged up, but you blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears away. You couldn't let a second of this be blurry. You couldn't afford to allow any of this to slip away. His absence felt like a missing limb, and his longing for you was a bullet in the head. How could he still love you? How could he find relief in your touch?

"But if we meet again," he said, his thumb brushing against your earlobe. "Just kill me. Because I'll be forced to kill you, and it's the same thing." As if the longer he held you, the more he would want you, he let go of you.

The enormity of his duty and the unyielding constraints of the jujutsu world, forcing him to make an unbearable choice, hit you like a cold gust of wind, leaving you feeling isolated and abandoned. The chill of that moment seeped into your bones, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had felt this same frigid loneliness when you had left him behind.

Satoru walked towards the door, each step carrying the finality of his decision that settled upon the room. Pausing at the threshold, a silent plea lingered in his words. "So, please, I beg you to stay away from me." With those words, he severed the last thread that had linked you, leaving you with a deep sense of loss.

The door closed behind him, leaving you in an empty and heavy space with unspoken regret. You were alone again, bereft without him, half dead without him. You opened your mouth and screamed. You screamed and screamed until your voice cracked beneath the pressure. Until you feared your throat would shred from the force. You wanted to crawl outside of your body so desperately so that you could escape this feeling.

No one ever warned you how men with such pretty eyes, who smelled like vanilla, tasted like rain, and talked like silver, were the reason behind tear-soaked pillows, half-finished poems, and so many sad dreams.

One last shout ripped out of your throat, this one so full of pain that brought you to your knees. You crumbled. The raw sound tapered off, fading into a hoarse, staccato cry. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with oxygen you didn't want, but you were too lost in your grief to scream like you wanted to.

It seemed like Satoru Gojo's story had peaked, and anything that followed wouldn't hold the same significance to him. Because for him, there was before you, and there was during you. For some reason, he never thought there would be an after you. But there was, and he was in it. He would be in it forever.

Moving forward, he silently implored his bones to remain firm, to support him for the remainder of the day and beyond. He ventured through the forest, his steps disturbing the mud and leaves as his footprints gradually faded away until there was nothing but the empty silence of a long, lonely dusk.

Tag list: @istanuwow @anime-lover1234 @rentaldarling @enchantedforest-network

Disclaimers:

This creation draws significant inspiration from the incredible artistry of @animaybi (TikTok) and features quotes from the captivating writings of @starlightonthewaves (TikTok). Both of these talented artists deserve immense praise for their remarkable contributions.

Art is created by me.

Are you cursing me for writing this? :D

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seeingivy · 5 months

Text

the new romantics

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: la la la. good old usual clown angst show UNTIL it isn't.

an: happy thanksgiving! I recommend relishing on all the words in this one, this chapters a big one! <3

previous part linked here

Three days later, Levi walks into your room (Colt’s room) with a box tucked under his arm. You’re caught off guard by his presence, as he sits flat on the ground next to you.

In the four days following your meltdown, you were lucky enough that the scenes they were filming had nothing to do with you. And that Colt and Porco - who might be your new favorite person - were more than willing to bring you food so you wouldn’t have to leave the safe confines of their room (that you were ambushing).

“Hi kid.”

“Hi Levi.” you respond, hiking your knees to your chest and crossing your ankles over each other.

Levi’s quietly sitting at your side, and by the look on his face, you can tell that he’s simmering. There’s something on the tip of his tongue, that he won’t quite say.

That was always the thing with Levi. While you were easily able to discern what he was feeling, a skill that took practice throughout years, you could never quite figure out why. Why he was sitting here in your room with you, why the two of you were arguing, why he’s got this dusty box placed in between you.

You give him a strange look, before he opens up his little box. It’s filled with different cassettes, pictures, and letters - ones you had sent to Levi over the past few years.

You swallow hard, leaning against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your fingers. Two little golden envelopes, with your name in big italic letters printed on it.

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Y/N L/N - Attack on Titan

“Didn’t realize you kept this.” you murmur.

“You were just so excited. All over the place that you forgot to take it. Figured you’d want it someday.” Levi murmurs.

You flip the second one over, mouth dry when you read it.

Triple Threat Commendation - Y/N L/N

“Why are you giving this to me?” you ask.

Levi looks over, steely gray eyes peering into yours.

“I want you to think about why you’re here.” Levi states.

You swallow hard, the tone in his voice biting.

“You were here before, for this. And now I need you to sit there and think really hard about why you’re here right now.”

You lean back, against the back of the bed, as you flip the little leaflet in your hand. And run your fingers over your italicized name, a sight that you had been waiting to see for years. Quite literally, the only thing you wanted.

“I don’t know, Levi. I don’t know why I’m here.” you respond.

It’s embarrassing. So embarrassing, that you’re crying straight onto the envelope, smudging the paper, as it courses through you.

That you don’t know what you’re doing, that you hate it here, and that really everyone else must hate that you’re here too.

“I’ll ask you again, Y/N. Really think about it.” Levi murmurs..

You look over at him, at his eyes fixed so neatly on the picture in his hands, one of the ones he plucked from the box. You scoot closer to him, only to catch that it’s a picture of him, Marco, and Eren, smiling right into the camera.

“Levi-” you start.

“I’m not trying to punish you. I just need you to think about it. It’ll make things easier for you too.” Levi states.

“I know you’re not trying to punish me, Levi.” you murmur, embarrassed that you had even said that to him in the first place.

Levi smiles, placing his hands over your closed ones and squeezing.

“I know. You’ve just got a shitty attitude problem.” he states.

“I get it from my dad.” you respond, nudging him in the shoulder and smiling.

Levi stands up, leaving the box and its content on the floor next to you. He shoots you a smile, one that you relish in, as he reaches for the door. Except he stops halfway on his way out and murmurs something that ignites the warmth in your chest.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Levi?”

“I am not your father.” he responds, before shutting the door on his way out.

You’re staring at the door of the set, the tiny pebbles crunching under your shoes, as you nervously teeter on your heels. You can hear everyone in there, the cameras moving around in the air, Levi’s voice animated and louder than everyone else’s, and the pounding footsteps of the crew marching in unison.

“You okay?”

You turn your head over your shoulder to find Eren standing next to you, his script and notebook tucked under his arm.

“Oh. Hi Eren. Yeah, I-I was just taking a second I guess.” you murmur.

The thought of having a repeat of the other day, of being so overcome with that feeling that you could barely even function, scares you. And the possibility of it happening, it’s so probable that it makes your stomach hurt.

And it pokes at those deep fears that you had. About coming back, about doing this again. Because you’re filming Sasha’s death scene and…and you need to give a performance. A real one. And if you can’t do this, if you aren’t up to the par of your standards, you’re just…

Setting yourself up for that criticism. The ones that echo in the farthest corners of your brain, whispering into your skin and making you doubt every little move you make. You’ll get a shitty review from The Elms, while everyone else gets glowing ones. You’ll be the lackluster lead while everyone shines, before everyone once and for all, forgets you.

If they even remember who you are in the first place.

“We aren’t filming Sasha’s death scene today.”

You turn your head, eyes wide at Eren, as you beckon for him to explain. Because you were sure, almost positive, that this was the day you were going to do this. And you spent all night, trying to visualize it, how it would feel to have her staring at you lifelessly, in efforts to make the scene more palatable, the entire thing easier.

You barely lasted ten minutes before it all went crashing down.

“I requested that Levi switch the schedule. I just don’t think we’re ready to film that scene yet.”

The wave of relief takes over you in full flesh, that block of feeling in your throat suddenly clearing, as you take the deepest, crispest breath of fresh air in. And the new set of problems come rushing in.

You’re an actress. You can face anything, and-and the fact that they had to change the entire filming schedule for you just proves it. That you’re unprofessional. That you aren’t meant to be here, that this isn’t a place that you should be when you’re all but a fraud next to everyone else.

“I-I could have done the scene, Eren.” you murmur, not even giving yourself the full conviction to prove you believed what you were saying.

Eren gives you a soft smile, before responding.

“I’m sure you could have. You were always stronger than me in that sense. But, I-I really don’t think I could stomach it today. I’ve been anxious since we watched them.”

You pale, the embarrassment coursing through you. At the fact that you let Eren comfort you yesterday, till you could at least stand on your feet, just for him to be suffering in his own silence.

You reach for his elbow, squeezing hard on his skin.

“Eren. You could have told me.” you murmur, burrowing your eyes into his green ones.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Y/N.” Eren states, making the motions for you to walk into the set.

The two of you walk in tandem, your footsteps lining up with one another's, as you walk into the chaos of the set. You and Eren get a few hello’s, which you happily return before walking up to the board and taking note of the scene lined up.

The table scene.

At that point, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist, as you look down to find Gabi looking up at you, with a bright smile on her face. You return it in full, resting your face against her cheek, as you smile.

“Hi Gabs. How are you?” you ask.

“I’m great! I love your new haircut.” she states.

You absentmindedly reach up to tuck your hair behind your ears, a slight shade lighter and the smallest bit shorter. Levi was increasingly serious on the fact that you were all getting makeovers for the season and you were no exception to the rule.

“Thank you, sweet girl.” you respond, pinching the skin on her cheek.

“Hi Hobo. How are you?” Gabi asks, turning her head to Eren.

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to flick Gabi’s forehead, followed by her swatting him off in protest. Which is only followed by Eren making moves to tickle her and Gabi getting ready to attack him, as the two of them start laughing and moving around each other. The sentiment of it makes you smile, that Eren’s the same as he was before.

Always popular with the kids.

Hange walks up, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and squeezing as they call for Gabi and Eren to stop.

“Hey. Are you two ready?” Hange asks.

“Yeah. We’ll head over right now. Thanks Hange.” Eren states.

You watch Hange link their arm in with Eren’s as the two of them walk straight onto the set and settle into the chair. And you can tell that Hange’s teasing Eren about something, because they’re both lightly shoving each other and smiling.

You swallow hard, as you take your seat at the table across from Eren. He’s nervously shaking his leg, as he flips through his script and cracks all the knuckles on his fingers. It’s the first scene you’re filming after coming back, the anxiousness pooling in your stomach under the lights.

“Eren?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still make notes in your script?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to switch? Like we used to before?”

Eren nods, sliding his set of pages over, as you hand him yours and start pacing through his notes. They’re largely incoherent, the meaning entirely lost to you, as Eren quickly realizes and looks over.

“Sorry. They’re not scene specific, they’re kind of…mental reminders for me. I didn’t realize we were still going to do this, but I-I’ll make sure I have good notes for the rest of the scenes.” Eren says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“No, no. It’s what makes us the best, right?”

You give him a polite smile, as you read through Eren’s lines. They’re all highlighted in light green, with the tiniest bit of ramblings scribbled on the side. Silent reminders, he’s giving himself.

To breathe.

“Are you ready?” Levi asks, hands firm behind his back.

“Yeah.” you and Eren respond.

“Eren, go get Armin then.”

Eren nods, standing up from his chair, leaving you and Levi under the bright lights. He pulls the empty chair, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest as he glares at you.

“Are you actually ready to film this scene?” Levi asks.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask.

Levi rolls his eyes, leaning forward on his forearms, as he brings his face closer to yours and whispers.

“There is nothing wrong with admitting you’re not ready for this yet. This isn’t a particularly easy scene to film, especially for you, and I don’t want-”

“I’m fine, Levi.” you respond.

You can tell from the look on Levi’s face that he doesn’t quite believe you, disapproving of your response, before he stalks off and starts setting the cameras into place. Armin and Eren walk up, followed by Gabi, as you each take your respective seats in the chairs.

Levi’s still stuck adjusting the cameras and the lights, which leaves the four of you awkwardly simmering in your seats. You shoot Gabi a smile, which she returns, before you tuck Eren’s script under the table and Eren does the same with yours.

“Eren.” Armin states.

“Hm?”

“I heard you’ve been writing some of the scenes with Levi and Hange now.” Armin states.

“Really? That’s so cool, Eren!” Gabi states, reaching forward to squeeze his tightly shut fists.

“Yeah. Thanks Gabs.” Eren responds.

“This one must have been real easy for you to write, huh?” Armin asks, all but glaring at him.

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, as he swallows hard and shuts his eyes.

“Save it for the scene, Armin.” Eren murmurs, nervously cracking all of the fingers in his bones, as he nervously looks over his shoulder and waits for Levi to finish.

It’s the smallest bit of solace you suppose. That you’re not the only sore thumb here. That Eren too has people who can’t stand to talk to him.

“Okay, Eren. On your count.” Levi states, giving the four of you a thumbs up.

You all shift in your seats, adjusting your hands on the table, as Eren all gives you a meek nod before starting.

“The things I do and choices I make are all decided by my own free will.”

Eren’s dropped his voice an octave, the tone in his voice more gravelly and hoarse as he speaks. And it immediately reminds you of that shitty argument the two of you had in the moonlight outside of the house in Seattle.

So that’s what Armin meant.

You can immediately feel your throat drying, rough as sandpaper as you’re suddenly too aware of the lights shining onto your skin above. The warmth of them singeing the ends of your skin.

“So your actions after meeting Yelena were all you?” Armin asks.

“Yes.” Eren responds.

“No. You’re being manipulated.” you respond.

You look up to find Eren looking at you, the emotion in his eyes so devoid, so far away that it makes your skin sweat. That it makes you deeply uncomfortable, like you’re talking to a version of him that’s somewhere else entirely.

“You-you wouldn’t get kids and innocents involved, even if they were enemies! Plus, I know you care about us more than anyone.”

You swallow hard, the words burning on your tongue.

“Don’t you? The reason you saved me in that cabin…the reason you gave me this scarf is because you’re kind, Eren.”

“I said keep your hands on the table.” Eren states, his voice so unrelenting that it sends tears sprouting down your eyes.

An entire five lines early. You fight down the urge to vomit, that disgusting acidic feeling accumulating in your mouth, as Eren continues, the gravel of his voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

You ball up your fists, as you mutter out your lines - knowing damn well they weren’t loud enough or with half of the fevor Levi wanted - as you reach the part you were dreading the most. The mere anxiety of it, of Eren’s grating voice saying those words, has you breaking skin on your palms, as you look up at his green eyes.

“Your family was made to forget who they are and live only to protect. In other words, slaves.”

“Enough, Eren!” Armin screams, slamming one of his fists on the table.

“Do you know who I hate more than anyone? Those who aren’t free. Just like livestock.” Eren states, the tears warm and burning as they start flowing down your cheeks, with no means of stopping this time.

“Eren!” Armin screams, again.

“Just seeing you has pissed me off, and now I finally know why. I can’t stand the sight of a slave who obeys orders without a question.”

You take a deep breath in, holding it in your chest.

“Ever since I was little, I’ve hated you, Y/N.” Eren states, the tone in his voice definitive.

Armin, right on cue, climbs on to the table and screams.

“How could you say that to her, Eren?”

And you miss your cue, to get up and tackle Armin onto the table, because Eren’s suddenly crying, his hands balled into fists as he stands up.

“I didn’t fucking mean it!” Eren screams.

You look over at Gabi and then Armin, as Eren quickly realizes what he’s said. And then he all but storms out of the set, almost like he’s embarrassed, as Levi calls for a fifteen minute break and Hange rushes out after him.

You and Armin share a weary look, as you help Armin off the table, and feel a tugging on your sleeve. You’re entirely thrown off by the outburst, his words hanging in your ears, as you readjust the table cloth on the table with shaky hands.

“Is Eren okay?” Gabi asks, a fixed frown on her face.

“He is. I’m going to go check on him, okay?” you state, giving her a pinch on the cheek before you stand up and make your way out to the set.

The pebbles are crunching loudly under your feet, as you pace around and look for Eren and Hange. Only to find them slightly to the left, Eren hanging with his head in his knees as Hange rubs circles into his back.

You swallow hard, before you walk up and clear your throat. Eren looks up, eyes teary and red, as he stares at you in disbelief.

“Hange. Can I talk to Eren?” you murmur.

Hange looks over at Eren, before giving you a smile and standing up.

“He’s all yours. Shout for me if you need me, yeah?”

You give Hange a nod and they lovingly ruffle Eren’s hair, before walking off. You take the seat next to him, sitting flat on your hands. He’s still crying, the tears falling straight into his hands as he hiccups.

“Eren.”

He clenches his eyes shut at the sound of your voice, almost like he’s wincing at your presence, as he starts shaking his head.

“Go away,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, swallowing the nervousness in your throat.

“No.”

“What are you doing here? Like seriously, just-”

“You would do it for me.”

He looks up, his green eyes staring at yours in his confusion. His tears have momentarily stopped, the wetness spread all over his cheeks and his hands.

“You would do it for me. You did it the other day and at the funeral and I just- I owe it to you. You’re there for me and…”

“You think you owe me something? Do you even hear yourself?” Eren asks, tone biting.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he thinks it’s okay for him to comfort you, but not for you to comfort him. You wrack your brain, trying to think of the best way to word this - or the best way to get him to listen to you - when it hits you.

You should take a page from his book.

“You’re not you and I’m not me.” you state.

“Huh?”

“You’re Bruce and I’m Margaret. Now talk.”

Eren scoffs, wiping the back of his hands on his cheeks, as he coughs.

“Y/N. Don’t be stupid.”

“Who?”

Eren stares at you, green eyes peering into yours, as he sighs.

“Are you going to let this go?”

“No.” you respond.

Eren sighs, leaning back on the heels of his hands as he looks up at the sky.

“I just had a long day. And I don’t really like this scene.” he states, leaning back into the grass.

You follow suit, the blades of grass tickling your skin, as you both look up at the cloudy sky.

“Sometimes, I can tell that the anxiety is like…bubbling. It’s not enough to make me freak out, but enough for me to notice it’s there. Like I’m hypervigilant, just-just waiting for it to come out.” Eren states.

You beckon for him to continue.

“Like I wake up late. It throws off how I get ready for the day and then I’m at set. I say the wrong things to everyone, say something weird or awkward, and then when I’m filming I know I’m not doing it right. That it’s all wrong and I try to take breaths, try to fix it, but that deep seated wrongness just doesn’t go away.” he responds.

“Does anything help?” you ask, looking over at him.

“Connie. He’s always good about this kind of stuff. He-he knows the right thing to say. And Hange’s comforting to be around.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist, sliding your hand down until your fingers are locked together. Your skin is burning from the touch, as you feel Eren’s hand tighten and his eyes shift over to you.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“I don’t know. It just felt right.” you whisper back.

Eren’s fidgeting with your hands, before he’s cracking every last knuckle on your hand. A nervous tick he’s had since you two were younger.

“Don’t crack the smaller ones.”

“I remember. You don’t like how those feel.” he responds, voice soft.

You hum in response as you absentmindedly give Eren your other hand, as he fidgets with every last knuckle of yours, waiting till he hears that satisfying pop before he stops. And then he’s holding both of your hands in his, his breaths calm and even, as he runs his hands over both of your knuckles.

And you both stay there, you completely dry of any words that could help him and Eren - the look on his face blank as he stares up at the sky. Eren was always better at this type of stuff than you and that much is apparent still.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

“You’re welcome, Bruce.”

And when you and Eren stand up - him brushing the smallest blades of grass out of your hair and you wiping the last of the wetness off your cheek - you curse yourself.

For falling back into it so easily with him. And for wanting to let yourself fall the entire way.

You cry almost the entire night.

You tend to avoid them when they all congregate in big groups. You’re not sure what it is exactly - maybe the fact that you've been living like a hermit crab for a better part of the past few months - but whenever you find yourself with them, it’s too awkward for you to stomach.

Except for a few situations, like this one, where you find that you have to be there.

“Y/N! Come here!” Jean screams.

You peek your head out of the little doorway, to find them all sitting around in a circle in the living room. There’s an obscene amount of flowers covering every square inch of the living room, a sweet smell in the air.

“Hi Jean. I was just going to go to bed.”

“And now you’re not!” Connie replies, giving you a smile which you can’t help but ignore.

You frown, as you feel someone join you at your side. And you look to your left only to consequently back straight into the wall behind you and hit your head.

“Jesus fuck, Eren. You scared the shit out of me.” you pant, rubbing the tiniest little spot on the back of your head.

He reaches forward, hands secured around his head, as you look up at him. And swallow hard.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Oh my god, Eren. What’s on your face?”

“Huh?”

You reach forward, fingers on his chin as you move his face to the left and to the right.

“Are you trying to grow a beard, Eren?” you state, disgusted.

Eren rolls his eyes, before swatting your hand off, and settling in next to Connie.

“I told you Y/N wouldn’t like Hobo Eren.” Gabi states.

“Well, I could have told you that. Y/N’s never really been into facial hair.” Eren states.

“You can barely even grow any, Eren.” you deadpan.

“Who wouldn’t like Hobo Eren? Look at him! He’s just so dreamy.” Reiner states, shaking Eren’s entire frame in his hands as Eren smiles.

“Yeah, he smells a little. But he’s got that….wet dog charm to him.” Connie states, smiling brightly.

You snort, as you settle in between Porco and Colt, the two of them shooting you polite smiles.

“I just got a bit…scared, that’s all.” you respond.

“I think Jean has the best look.” Mikasa states, twisting one of the sets of bouquets in her fingers.

“You’re like literally biased. He’s your fiance.” Porco states.

“It’s very hard to pull off a mullet.” Mikasa states, glaring at him.

“Who do you think has the best new look, Y/N?” Gabi asks, tugging on the ends of your ankles. She’s seated right by your feet, directly next to Falco, as they play a very tame game of cards. Falco has yet to acknowledge you, since the day you first got back, and you have yet to try either.

“Probably, Reiner. I couldn’t even recognize him.”

“Not seeing me for two years will do that to you.” Reiner states, earring a fit of laughter from the group.

You smile, cheeks burning with embarrassment, as the rest of them laugh. They all move along, but you’re stuck on that, as Colt gives you a reassuring smile. But it does little to curb the tears that are collecting in your eyes, the unease that’s coursing through you.

“That’s right! I was wondering what you were doing here.”

You look up to find the girl, seated right by Mikasa, looking straight at you.

“I swear every time I look up there’s like a new cast member I don’t know.”

The group of them laugh, as you bite the soft tissue of your cheeks and look back at her.

“This is Amy. She’s Mikasa’s cousin. She’s going to be the maid of honor at the wedding, which is why she’s here. With this god awful set of flowers.” Sasha states.

“I didn’t realize you would all have such strong opinions about the flowers!” she states.

You look around the sets at the table, with a new eye. And not that you’re biased (because you totally are), but the flowers really are…awful. A bit too gaudy, too artificial for people like Jean and Mikasa. You ease off of the couch, as you twist the vases in your hand.

“Do you guys mind?” you ask, looking up at Jean and Mikasa.

They both shake their heads, as you start sifting through each of the vases. You pick out the flowers that make the most sense to you, as Connie makes it a point to make fun of Porco’s British accent for the next twenty minutes.

When you’re done - a mix of violets, daisies, and baby breath - you snag the ribbon off the little box they came in and tie it around the stems. And then hand it to Mikasa, who's running her fingers over the petals.

“It’s daisies and violets. Those are both of your birth flowers and the baby’s breath just kind of brings it together. The ribbon should definitely be white instead of pink, because it seems too loud when you add a color like that in. And you can easily make boutonnieres out of violets for the groom's party and have the girls wear corsages with daisies on them.” you state.

“I love that idea. Thank you, Y/N.” Mikasa states, handing the flowers to Jean as he twists them in his own fingers. He gives you a big smile, which is enough to curb that sense of unease in your skin.

“That’s what your name is!” Amy states, smacking her hand against her forehead.

And it’s back.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you state.

“Wait, didn’t you like…quit acting?” she asks.

You swallow hard.

“Yeah.” you state, laughing awkwardly.

“Oh. So what are you doing here, then?”

You absentmindedly look over at Eren, before pinching your lips together.

“Just back for the final season.” you respond.

“Oh. Was it like a PR type of thing? To build up hype around the show? You celebrities do things like that all the time, right?” she asks.

You can feel the group of them looking at you, steely eyes staring into yours, as you set the last of the flowers down on the table. You knew that this would happen eventually, that you would get berated about what you did in your two years off. That some people wouldn’t understand it, that those whispering rumors of everything you do being fake would come back, but it was too early for this. The tears are warm and hot, the regret even hotter, as you stand up.

“No. It wasn’t. But that’s besides the point. It was um, really nice to meet you and I hate to cut this short and all but I have to wake up early tomorrow, so…”

“Right! I’ll see you at the wedding.” she states, extending her hand to yours as you begrudgingly shake.

And shuffle straight into Colt’s room and cry straight onto his pillow.

It gets easier to place yourself into the pacing on the set. Most of the scenes that Levi’s chosen to film are around Gabi, Falco, and Kaya, and it’s easier to be there and watch them than be in the house with everyone else. And it seems that’s someone’s always lingering around, an open ear to talk to.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” you ask.

“Yeah. It’s a nice environment to be in.” Niccolo responds, giving you a polite smile.

The two of you are playing solitaire, an invitation that he extended to you after you were content scribbling through the ends of your script for Eren.

“Levi and Hange always made it a point. To make it that way.” you murmur.

“I can imagine. Especially for Hange, all the scrutiny that came their way back in the day, it’s…” Niccolo states.

“The funniest part is I didn’t even know any of that had happened when I got here. Mikasa kind of had to tell me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I-I looked up to Hange a lot. Idolized her even. And all I saw was someone who was so…true to themselves. They said whatever they wanted and they came out on top anyways. Turns out, they were suffering almost the entire time. And they wouldn’t have even made it out if it weren’t for Levi.”

“Same could be said for you, no?”

You look up at him, at his brown eyes wide and peering into yours.

“Sasha talks.”

“And what does she say?”

“It doesn’t really mean much and I don’t want to rub salt in wounds or anything or-”

“Being here is a big salt in the wound regardless.” you respond.

Niccolo frowns, the look on his face fixed.

“She said that in the earlier years, people gave you a horrible time. For reasons that were out of your control, like Hange. They hated them because they were queer? Because they supported things that were right but weren’t mainstream? And they hated you just because your family wasn’t famous. Because you were a successful, self-made woman. You didn’t have any of that industry etiquette, when things seemed wrong to you, rightfully so, you called shit on it.”

You roll over the thought in your head.

“What?” Niccolo asks.

“I never really saw it that way.”

“But it’s true isn’t it? Historia all but got groomed by a guy, you didn’t let him get away with it. You had no ins with the industry, but still made it out on top like you did. The Lucky One basically immortalized you as a pop star forever.” Niccolo responds, setting his cards down flat on the floor.

“I guess. It just seems like at the end of the day, it wasn’t even worth it.” you respond.

“Well, you’re talking about it like it’s all over.”

“Huh?”

“Things are far from finished. For you, especially. I have a feeling you’re just getting started.” Niccolo responds.

You and Niccolo look up, to find Gabi and Falco at your sides, fresh off of the set. They’re both crossing their legs and taking their seats next to you as Eren walks up and joins you. He always seems to be here, since he is writing this all with Hange and Eren now, always giving the two of them pointers and leading them the right way.

“Hi guys.” Gabi says.

“Hi Gabs. You did great. You too, Falco.” you respond, reaching forward to ruffle her hair.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Falco responds, giving you a halfhearted smile.

“What are we talking about?” Eren asks.

“Sasha. And how much Niccolo loves her.” you respond, giving him a smug grin.

“Our favorite topic of conversation.” Eren responds, nudging Niccolo in the side, as a pink flush crawls up his neck.

You deal a set of cards to everyone, ignoring your awkwardly shaky hands when you hand Eren his and zone out through the rest of this conversation. Because all you can hear in your head is Niccolo, and Levi asking you what you’re doing here, and every tiny fractal of a memory playing in your head.

And really, it’s almost jarring how different everything is because you can barely bring yourself to get out of your head about everything. Because that god awful, damper of your thoughts brings ruin to everything. You thought you’d have Mikasa and Levi when you’d get here, that they’d walk you through this, only for them to be miles away from you.

You figure you’d fight the urge to throttle Eren every time he looked at you, but his presence seems to be one of the only things that puts you at ease. That he’s quiet, that you’re both not you and that it’s easier that way, that nothing happened.

That eventually, things would work themselves out. You’d all come back here and things would fall back into place again. That Connie would make a joke and you’d all laugh, that Armin would take a few pictures, that you and Eren would just be something again, no matter what it was.

But you sit here, stuck in how none of that is true. That you’re at the end of a bottomless pit. That things are going to stay this way, that this is how they are, that this is what happens when you make the wrong choice.

“Well, the convenience store is closing on Friday, so you better get a move on if you want something, Falco.” Niccolo states, setting his cards down.

“What?” you ask.

“Huh?” Niccolo repeats, looking up at you.

“The convenience store is closing? The one on Scott Street? With….with the slushie machine?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Yeah. The one run by that really old guy, with curly hair.”

You set your cards down, irritation flaming, as you turn to Eren.

“Did you know?” you ask.

“Yeah.” Eren responds, twisting his cards in his fingers.

“And you weren’t going to tell me? Or do anything about it?”

“What could we do about it?” Eren asks.

You roll your eyes, bending the cards as you set them down and storm out of the set. And look for that god awful bike, because god forbid that this is one of the things that changes too. That really everything else can change - that you’re going to hate each other, that the one place you love is going to be different - but god, if you can throw any money at someone to keep that place open, then so be it.

You find the bike in the shed, wheeling it out towards the front door when Eren runs in front of you, grabbing the handles and stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you doing, Y/N? You can’t ride this thing by yourself.”

“Well, watch me.” you respond, trying to wrestle it out of his grasp.

“It’s a tandem bike. You need someone to push the back. And you’ve always been shit at steering.” he responds.

“And you have a shitty personality, Eren. I guess there’s some things we just can’t really control, can we?” you spit, finally wrestling out of his grasp and moving past him.

Eren jogs up to your side, trying to stop you in your tracks again.

“Quit trying to stop me, Eren.”

“I-I’ll come with. Steer for you.” he states, reaching for the handles.

“No. I want to do this on my own.” you respond.

“Well, some things you just can’t.” Eren responds.

“I’m going to the convenience store.” you respond.

“To what? Stop it from closing?”

“Yes. I have money. I’m going to use it. It’s like an investment, basically.”

Eren frowns, stopping at your side again.

“Y/N. Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

And the irritation bubbles right to your head and you’re screaming at him in the middle of the pavement.

“I want to go! I want to make sure this thing stays here, that people get to enjoy it because it’s the only thing I can keep. I can’t get my brother to stop being mad at me, my best friend moved on and picked a new maid of honor, Levi’s ten different levels of disappointment in me, and you…you left me! I know you don’t give a crap about this place, I just want this place that made me happy to stay there.” you shout.

Eren swallows, before climbing onto the head of the bike and bracing his legs against the pedals. You oblige, climbing on and wrapping your arms around his torso as he starts pedaling. And when you reach there, he’s holding his hand out and helping you off, as you walk into the store.

The smell is still entirely the same, but the store is heavily hollowed out. Almost all the shelves are empty, the buzzing of the refrigeration turns off and you turn to find your culprit. The owner of the store, that’s been giving you and Eren free slushies since you were fifteen.

Michael.

“Y/N! Eren! My little movie stars.” he states, opening his arms wide and enveloping you two in his embrace.

You sink into the smell, the soft cherry wafting off of him, as he gives you a bright smile. His hair is significantly longer than when you saw him last, the years he’s lived hanging off of his skin. In wrinkles, in the permanent smile lines by his eyes, and his dimples - large and indented into his skin, as opposed to Eren’s. That really only come out on occasion.

“We’re in a TV show, Michael.” you deadpan.

“Same thing.” he responds, giving you a bright smile.

“Are you really closing your store?” you ask.

He sighs, giving you a smile.

“Yes. I’m sure that much is obvious.” he responds, placing more items into the box.

“Are you bankrupt? You should really stop giving free stuff to every kid who walks in here.” you murmur.

“I’m not bankrupt. It’s just time.” he responds.

You push yourself up on the counter, dangling your feet off the end as you turn to him. You’re toying with the ends of the tape on the counter, peeling it off as you rack your mind on the right thing to stay. To get him to stay here. And that insurmountable loss - that follows you everywhere - reaches this place too and you can’t handle it.

“Do you need money to keep it going? We can hire and staff and-”

“Y/N.” Michael states.

“We’ll invest. Me and Eren, we-we’ll keep it going. Make sure it’s in good hands. It should-” you mumble.

Michael sighs, setting the box down, as he glances over at Eren.

“Always the same, you two.” he states, before walking out of the store.

You give Eren a weary look, as you pad out of the store, to find Michael opening up the door of his car. You run up to his side, fists curled together.

“Where are you going?”

“We are going to the lake. I have something to show you.” he responds.

You angrily march over to the passenger seat and buckle your seatbelt on, only to find Eren standing at your side of the door.

“Well, get in.”

“I’ll stay. Fix up the store for you, yeah?” Eren says.

“Thank goodness. You god awful children know how to waste my time. And my money.” he responds, giving Eren a smile as he pulls out of the parking lot.

You glare at Eren as the two of you drive off, the ride not even a full ten minutes, before he pulls into the little meadow. There’s a tiny little lake at the center, expansive enough that you can’t see the end and green grass surrounding the edges. There’s large willow trees, basking the entire place in a shade, as the two of you walk out to a bench and sit on it together.

“You like the store, Y/N?” he asks.

“I love the store. It’s-it’s why you can’t close it.” you respond, crossing your legs onto the bench and fidgeting with your hands in the space in between.

Michael takes a deep breath, before smiling to himself and looking out at the water.

“I spent my entire life in that store.”

You look out at the lake, at the little ripples keeling through the water as the tiniest wave hits the shore.

“My mother passed away when I was very young. I don’t remember much, but…she was very fond of nature. Flowers, greenery, lakes.”

You smile.

“But my father. He….he spent his entire life in that store with me. And…he was an unrelenting man. Disciplined, principled, habitual. I didn’t know much about him, besides his name. That he worked at the store, that keeping it running was important. That he didn’t say quite much, that sometimes he would when he was angry.” he states.

You swallow hard, immediately thinking of Eren and Zeke.

“I moved away, the second I could. I turned eighteen and I-I went running for the hills.”

“To?”

“College.”

“That’s nice. Surely something entirely different, after all that.” you softly add.

“I was curious. So curious that I wanted to know everything. Every major was one I wanted to do, every class left me with a thousand questions instead of answering them, every person I met was a person I wanted to unravel, to know, deep in their bones.”

“And did you? Meet someone like that?” you ask.

Michael turns to you and smiles.

“Always the romantic, weren’t you?”

“Who said anything about being a romantic?”

“Picking up bottles on New Year’s Day is quite a romantic sentiment to me.” he responds.

You roll your eyes and he laughs, as you beckon for him to continue.

“Her name was Evangeline. She had ivory hair, long eyelashes, and the tiniest bit of freckles on her skin. Two dimples, one on each side, that were hard not to notice whenever she smiled at me. Smelled like strawberries, never walked on the cracks in the sidewalk, dreaded getting gas to the point that her car would stall and run out.”

“Quite the lady.”

Michael smiles.

“The first love. Always comes with impossible odds. There’s a sweetness, almost a purity to it. That feeling that there is no one else in the universe like this. There’s fumbling, there’s pining, there’s awkward and ugly mistakes.”

“But you think it’s going to work. You want your love to be real.” you add.

“Precisely. There’s always a first time for everything, right?” he adds.

And from that somber tone in his voice, grating in his chest, you feel the tears spill down your eyes. Because you know what happens next.

“How?” you ask.

How did she leave him.

“Accidental drowning. It seems she….she tripped over the ledge on a boat. Must have hit her head or something because when we got her out, she was…was already long gone. Didn’t fight her way back up, just…sank down.”

You feel a hiccup escape your chest, the feeling so disgusting. That this shitty loss, that it permeates everywhere. That everyone feels it. That no one is safe from it and that truly, nothing stays.

“I returned to the store. Worked with my dad for some time. It was nice to see the monotony of those types of things. Ring up the items, place them in a bag. Give two unrelenting kids a free drink here and there. Close the shop up until the next day.”

You frown, your eyes burning, as he smiles at you. He taps on your forehead, on the wrinkles from your frown.

“I was so deep in it. That feeling. I dug myself into that hole. And I stayed there. That I had experienced everything that I had needed to in life, that things were perfect that way and that nothing else was going to compare.”

He takes a beat.

“I was holding onto the memories. And they were holding on to me.”

“But-”

“Holding onto memories is a good thing. But not when they drag you into the abyss. And that’s where I was - in that store, doing the same thing everyday. Ringing up the items, placing them in boxes and closing up for the night.” he responds.

You swallow hard.

“My father talked to me one day,” he states.

“He was still there?” you ask.

“He met my mother in that store. That she was reaching for the gum at the same time as him. That their fingers brushed across one anothers, that they split the pack of gum because there was only one left.”

“And?”

“That he spent his entire life in that store, because she thought she would come back.”

You wipe your snot on the back of your hand, looking up at him. And at the fact that he’s still smiling.

“It made sense then. Why he was so untouchable”

“Because he was waiting for something that wouldn’t ever come back?”

“Because he was stuck in that store. Sitting in his little corner that he haunts.”

You swallow hard.

“When you sit inside, you seem to forget that the sun does rise again. That it falls behind the skyline, but it comes back. The moon follows the same - disappearing and reappearing to be a light in the night. The ocean pulls away from you just to come crashing right back.” he states.

“But-”

“I don’t want to live in the hole anymore. I don’t want to haunt that corner, I don’t want to shy away from the water just because it is deep. It’s cold, it bites your skin, but you feel free in the water. The possibility is there, to let your self fallin the abyss, but you can also choose not to.”

You can feel the tears falling in full flesh, the pain so palpable when you understand.

The convenience store is the stagnant spot. And he has every intent to destroy it.

“You cannot live life when you are so untouchable, Y/N. Living your life requires you to be vulnerable,” he states.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look up to find Eren standing at your side, the bike laying in the grass next to you. You scoot over on the bench, as the tears fall out even harder, the pain of it all so aching.

At Eren. Holding a slushie, with two straws in the hole. Sitting right at your side.

You take it in your hands, securing both of your hands around the cup, as you sip the drink. And that familiar mix - of the soda and the cherry covers your tastebuds - sending a chill down your spine.��

Michael sighs, smacking against the skin of his thighs before he stands up. He turns to give the two of you a smile, a hand on both of your heads.

“You’re just going to leave?”

“I’ll let Eren tell you the rest. I’ve got a wife waiting for me at home.” he states, walking off with a content smile on his face.

You almost drop the entire drink over your legs, as you watch him walk off and turn to Eren. He’s got a soft smile on his face too, his head angled up as he watches the clouds move across the sky.

“He has a wife?” you ask.

Eren slides the smallest bit away from you and taps on the inscription on the bench.

For Zola. You let the light in.

You look up at him, confused.

“Living your life requires you to be vulnerable. What’s more vulnerable for him than loving again?” Eren responds.

You nod, turning your head back to the lake. To the waves, pulling away just to come crashing right back.

“I do care about the convenience store.” Eren states.

“Hm?”

“Earlier. You said you thought I didn’t care about it….I basically did the same thing you just did now a few weeks ago when I got back and found out.” Eren responds.

“Oh.”

Eren looks over at you.

“This was one of the hardest things I had to learn when I went to therapy, Y/N.”

“What?”

“That you have to hold space for your hurt, to let yourself feel it, but not let it bog you down either.” Eren responds.

You swallow hard, looking down at the slushie - the colors mixing together into one.

“The wound is the place where the light enters.” Eren states.

You swallow hard.

“Marco gave me a poetry book. And months after he died, I stumbled across it. And it was open right on that page.”

“He did love his poetry books, didn’t he?”

“Turns out Michael loves them too. He seems like a Marco type.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” you respond.

Eren stands up, brushing off his palms on his shirt, before he turns and extends his hand to you. You place your hand in his, warm and soft, before you hold it in the air. He makes a move to let go, but you clench harder.

“Eren.”

“Yes?”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think of what to say. Or more appropriately, what to say first. Because he sends your mind into a spiral, that he overwhelms any normal sense, any rationale.

Because you loved him. And he looks like the person you loved. Feels like him too.

It’s why you can’t shout at him. Why every rational thought goes out the door, why that unyielding feeling that he’s still the person you knew is there.

“I know, Y/N. It confuses me too. We'll figure it out." Eren states.

You and Eren pick the bike up and make your way back in silence. But the air is somewhat lighter.

When you walk into the townhouse, you make it your first point to find Levi. To the point where you march up to his room and pound hard on the door until he answers. All disheveled and the slightest bit of annoyance in his face.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I’m here for the right reasons, Levi.” you state.

Levi’s eyes go wide, almost in curiosity, as he looks up at you and leans against the door. Gesturing for you to continue. You sigh, before reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him.

For trying to push you to this spot, days earlier. By asking you the question.

“I’m here to make amends. To move forward.” you state.

“And?”

“And that….that requires work on my part. With you and Mikasa. Falco and Eren and-”

“Eren?” Levi asks, raising his eyebrows.

You smile.

“Always his biggest hater, weren’t you?”

“Naturally.” Levi responds, closing the door behind him before linking your arms and walking down towards the kitchen.

"Yes, even Eren. I-"

You take a deep breath in.

"I'm done feeling sorry for myself. And I'm done being so...so far away. This is where I'm meant to be. And it's where I'll stay until we're done." you respond.

Levi smiles at you for the first time since you've returned. And you know you'll win him over.

When you walk down, you and Levi move around each other in silence. He’s fixing the food while you drag out the plates, until the music starts blaring. Splitting both of your eardrums.

You give Levi a motion to wait, as you pad into the living room to catch the sight responsible for the sound. Only to find your heart swelling, burning at it.

They’re all dancing. Almost every single one of them, standing on their feet, hands pressed together, and screaming.

The lyrics to your song.

Baby, we're the new romantics Come on, come along with me Heartbreak is the national anthem We sing it proudly We are too busy dancing To get knocked off our feet Baby, we're the new romantics The best people in life are free

And maybe, just possibly, it draws something in you. That you wrote this song, years prior, to sick it to them. Because you were going to prove everyone, who had doubted you, that you were above them.

That you'll always rise above.

Falco and Gabi have their arms linked together and are swinging in a circle, while Connie tries to horribly swing dance with Armin. Niccolo’s spinning Sasha in circles, holding her flesh against his chest, while Mikasa and Jean - who are most certainly drunk - are excitedly screaming the lyrics in each other’s faces. Pieck and Porco are doing a very weird rendition of the original dance from the music video, while Colt tries desperately to teach them how to do it the right way.

Your presence silences them all entirely, each of them stopping from their dancing to look up at you wide eyed. But you clear your throat and sing the lyrics of your song - for the first time in years.

Please take my hand and Please take me dancing, and Please leave me stranded It's so romantic (it's so romantic) (Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah)

You hold your hand out to Mikasa and Falco, who are all too happy to oblige. And scream the lyrics into each other's faces and dance on your feet until your soles hurt. You let Jean spin you and Mikasa in one arm, Connie’s screaming she’s back for a good five minutes, and you’re trying to let it happen.

To let the light enter the wound. To keep moving forward.

Eren and Levi pad into the room forty five minutes later, to find you all nestled on the floor, a tangle of limbs, and fast asleep.

“Levi.”

“Yes, Eren?”

“I finally figured it out. The scene we’re missing.” he states.

When you come to, you make it a point to destroy your convenience store.

You take the lighter and burn that golden piece of paper. And it’s a sweet satisfaction, to see the letters go up in flames.

Y/N L/N - Triple Threat Commendation.

Reduced to ashes.

next part linked here

an: the emo y/n cannot come to the phone rn!!! she is letting the light in!!! she is about to build a castle out of all of the bricks that were thrown at her!!

(and for those of you worried that y/n has not rocked eren's shit yet, trust. trust. this poor guy getting the scolding of his life but all in good time)

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygff @cocomellxn @princess-ackermann @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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feliks-grayscayl · 9 months

Text

some ninjago fic recommendations i have

I've been writing down ninjago fics on ao3 in my notes app and i might as well post them here. there is about 75 of them as of now idk

i will be adding as i read

NO LLORUMI OR LLOYD X NINJA

some of these you'll need an ao3 acc to access

‌"Meet Again" by northpen - Zane and Cole can't die. They can be killed but not die of natural causes. 3000 years into the future they meet their friends again [this fic left me in shambles for a few days in the best way possible] (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12308709/chapters/27981705…)

‌"The Grass is Always Greener" by Sunnylighter - pre-tea Lloyd switches places with post-movie Lloyd, now show!ninja and movie!Lloyd have to find a way to the movieverse; a lot of references to different media along the way (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18779539/chapters/44553559…)

‌"If you could date any of the ninja, which one would you date?" by Pyr0_Kat - movieverse pre-movie, the exact question gets asked during a class (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661316#main…)

‌"Green Empathy" by Nation_Ustria - movieverse 3 oneshots series pre-movie and pre identities reveal, Lloyd Garmadon is both the Green Ninja and the most hated person in Ninjago City and also an empath (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178393)

"Visionary" by K1ngtok1 - the ninja are forced to see, spectate the events that blocked their Full Potentials. They talk it out (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38732838/chapters/96844887…)

"Those Linked By Destiny" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - movieverse, how the ninja met even before they were ninja (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303986/chapters/64045669…)

"Unfamiliar With What's Not Mine" by AlexaAffect - after Tomorrow's Tea Lloyd feels like his body isn't his anymore. Kai helps him see it is; brotherly feels (https://archiveofourown.org/works/37520761)

"An Impromptu Little Brother" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - set in s1, Kai decides to become lil Lloyd's big brother (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238865)

"A Strange Bet" by ilovelegendsalot - the ninja make the bet that whoever finds out the samurai x's identity is the Green Ninja. While staying at the Bounty with Nya, Lloyd starts to notice a few things (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715200)

‌"The Sun Rises Every Single Night" by Fabro-de-omres (Fabro) - time travel, post s6 Lloyd lands in s2 time (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28530306/chapters/69911859…)

"Ruler From Another Realm" by CyberSearcher -Nice Ice Emperor AU, when Zane lands in the Never Realm he doesn't immediately find and try to repair the mech, instead he finds a village (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23239126/chapters/55643689…)

‌"Land Of The Living" and "Shores of Restless Souls" by CaptainBrookeworm - Morro is brought back to life by a scientist using Lloyd's energy; eventual cousins vibes; Morro redemption with Lloyd and the team (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2524495)

‌"Prodigal Prince" by TeuthidaRegina - movie verse au, Lloyd lives with his father. Has hybrid features but can shift into a human form. As Lloyd he's a feared warlord in the making, son of Garmadon. As Green he's Ninjago's greatest hero and protector. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41470281/chapters/103999554…)

‌"Reference Letters" by Fabro-de-omres (Fabro) - movieverse pre-movie - Kai is tasked by Green to find someone who could join the Ninja Force. He thinks Lloyd is a perfect candidate (https://archiveofourown.org/works/41823636)

"You Give Me The Strength I Need (To Cry)" by fruitcasket & "And there you were" by Cherry_dynamite - we touch on Lloyd's trauma and him seeing Kai as a father figure (https://archiveofourown.org/works/35553694/chapters/88633630…) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39483225/chapters/98822580…)

"Secret Flame" by ObsessedBee - college au, no powers, everyone is human, lavashipping getting together; **warning for sexual themes** (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31559843/chapters/78080618…)

"Fear and Loathing" by ObsessedBee - series of one shots to "Secret Flame", the main 7's problems, bad habits and traumas and them sorta dealing with them; **mind the warnings** (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38156269/chapters/95323741…)

"Just a Little Bit Before" by Evil_Potato Ninja - Morro is back as a ghost before s1 and finds lil Lloyd living on the streets; green cousins (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44882287/chapters/112927045…)

"forget-me-not" by lloydenthusiast - greenflowershipping one shot, after 10 years they meet again (https://archiveofourown.org/works/45058972)

‌"marigold" by lloydenthusiast - greenflowershipping, probably post crystalized, Lloyd struggles with a lot, he and Brad meet by accident. They both struggle with a lot; **mind the warnings** (https://archiveofourown.org/works/45814168/chapters/115296334…)

‌"Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die" by BumblebeeEnby - Morro centric, eventual citrusshipping, he's brought back but literally into his own skeleton; Morro redemption (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320173/chapters/72007536…)

"Taking Shape, Letting Go" by BumblebeeEnby - set after "Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die", having discovered his dragoni origin Lloyd's body starts suddenly changing (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46434775)

"Way of the 21st century ninja", sequel "Born to be a 21st century ninja" and other works in series "The Surprising Life of Jesse Marvel" and "Legacy Sidestories" by weekend-whip (nightbreakers) - all are mix of show and movie verses, canon rewrite with attention to a lot of minor things and very interesting concepts expanded upon, Jesse is an oc however he fits into the story amazingly (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742124/chapters/70476210…) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/34013053/chapters/84598372…) (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2946552) (https://archiveofourown.org/series/3113685)

"Undo the Golden" by GigglingAsIfIdidntWriteThis - crystalized ended BADLY and Lloyd managed to go back in time to the beginning of s1 to try and save everyone including himself (https://archiveofourown.org/works/45778291/chapters/115202566…)

"The Color of Glory" by banannamuffin - AU, Lloyd is an orphan in the foster system where he meets Harumi who he now sees as a sister. Then he finds out he's supposed to be the Green Ninja and that a group called Sons of Garmadon is on the rise (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44138211/chapters/110989083…)

"On the Outside" by SunflowerAro - set in early s1, lil Lloyd doesn't trust the ninja he has to live with. Slowly that trust is built and traumas acknowledged (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44929669/chapters/113050273…)

‌"All of Their Interests" by ilovelegendsalot - ninja bonding with lil Lloyd over things they enjoy (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18958873/chapters/45014614#workskin…)

"All the work, None of the money" by SirShroomie - short, kai-centric, we delve a bit more into his life and struggles before he became a ninja (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42818652/chapters/107565903…)

"Five Times Everyone Thought The Green Ninja Was Dating Lloyd Garmadon" by Anonymous - movie fic, secret identities au, exactly what the title says (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44554888)

"Lloyd Gets a Ransom Note" by BumblebeeEnby - post crystalized, Lloyd gets "invited" to a dinner with his dad and Vinny; survivalshipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/45267544)

‌"we've all got scars" by brainrotprofessional - short Lloyd and Kai brothers trans interaction (https://archiveofourown.org/works/45679432)

"Shogun: Becoming" by NickelWick - instead of Zane being sent to the Never-Realm, Kai is sent into the movieverse (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44418760/chapters/111722089…)

"Enchanted Opportunities" by Arco_Harrison03 - if marrying a Djinn gives him unlimited wishes, what happens to you when you kill one? (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42570066/chapters/106927911…)

‌"Thank You, For Giving Me Wings" by weekend-whip (nightbreakers) - Wu POV of how he's come to see the ninja as his kids and they him as their father figure (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39650496/chapters/99260295…)

‌"Say You Won't Let Go" by orphan_account - as Jaya wedding gets close everyone tries to get Kai and Cole together bc apparently they don't know they love each other and everyone else does; lavashipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606391/chapters/44112619…)

"We Saved Each Other" by orphan_account - continuation of "Say You Won't Let Go" but about a year later. now it's Cole's time to ask the question; lavashipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191547)

‌"Everybody Talks Too Much" by letters_from_elwind - lavashipping one-shot taking place in s8 together with the scene where Cole sings but it's "Everybody Talks" instead (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38946051#main…)

"Everhearth" by Butterpony100 - takes place after Nya is brought back but the Crystal King doesn't happen; seabound Kai au with lavashipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42634206/chapters/107094609…)

"The Rights Of A Nindroid" by Anonymous - what if after Dr Julien's death, the government considered Zane its legal property, he's a robot afterall; **mind the warnings** + with a sequel (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669479/chapters/70281465…)

"just the two of us (we can make it if we try)" by writing_hat - lavashipping fic, pre and post s7, two pining idiots; **mild sexual content** (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47800510?view_adult=true#main…)

‌"The little things" by newtlovesyouso - lil Lloyd starting to trust the ninja as he lives with them. Should be early s1 but the small events indicating the timeline are all over the place, still very much readable; background lavashipping pining (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44529601/chapters/116416195#main…)

"Would You Like To Enter Stardust?" by AureAllegories - what if Jay became part of Prime Empire upon entering it? minor bruiseshipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/37798150/chapters/94374718…)

‌"Play to Win" by sadisthetic - s6 oneshot, what if after Cole, Lloyd and Nya are caught, instead of having them walk the plank, Nadakhan decides on another round of Scrap-N-Tap (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46263796#main…)

‌"Son of Garmadon" by orphan_account - movieverse au, Lloyd was raised by his father who has now captured the ninja and left Lloyd in charge of them (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18226388#main…)

"Cool Down" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - Kai's emotions are tied to his powers, Zane helps him cool down with hugs (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916767#main…)

"Echoes of a Broken World" by Stargaze_Sunflower - a few weeks after s6 the ninja find out about the erased timeline (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410818/chapters/72252897…)

"Little Brother" by SummerStormFlower - s1 Lloyd learns that he's loved and wanted (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261093#main…)

"Home Is Where You Are" by lloydshoulddyehishair - movieverse pre-movie oneshot, Morro helps his cousin after he got stabbed (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490180#main…)

‌"The Master of Fire and the Cold Don’t Mix Well" by Nation_Ustria - a series of oneshots of what the title says (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154861)

"late night bathroom sibling therapy" by YouAreDeadRetry - s1 trans Lloyd, Kai catches him cutting his hair and decides to help out gaining a lil brother in the process (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855188#main…)

"Oh, can I be your Bibilly Hills?" by Fabro-de-omres (Fabro) - movieverse pre-movie, after finding out that their leader is Lloyd and seeing the bullying up close, the ninja decide to make a surprise blanket fort for Lloyd (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822187#main…)

‌"And the Vocab Word of the Day Is..." by fishoutofcamelot - early s1 before Zane regained his memory but with Lloyd living with the ninja, someone taught Zane how to swear (it's a funny oneshot) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36502231#main…)

"Devil's Horns" by TeuthidaRegina - au and sorta rewrite of s10, the cloud has a bit of an effect on Lloyd and his oni traits start showing; background survivalshipping + with a sequel (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38756427/chapters/96906630…)

"The Not-So-Warm Winters." by JayJay_07936 - short oneshot of everyone cuddling up to Kai on a cold winter night; some lavashipping (https://archiveofourown.org/works/33884434)

"Four Nights, Three Crushes, One Bed, what else do you need" by fizzysugarwrites - polyninja, jay pov; the title is pretty explainatory (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866772/chapters/62850451…)

"Masking and Unmasking" by HelloThere3306 - movieverse, Lloyd accidentally loses his mask during a fight and the team finds out his identity. He runs (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42865698#main…)

"Kind" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - movieverse au, the words people think about you appear on your skin, Lloyd decides to do some good with that (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722576)

"Look what you’ve done // Fucked up, hope you’re proud" by Just_ATrigger - Sora blames herself for creating the Photac. Lloyd talks to her (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47996062#main…)

‌"Real Life" by Anonymous - Sora is curious about Zane and asks some questions which make the other ninja worried; master of tech and a guy made of tech? yeah (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47781802/chapters/120452491…)

‌"There's Always Tomorro" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - Morro redemption fic (a lil Morro apologist vibe? might just be me. still a good read), Morro living with the ninja after s5 and slowly becoming part of the family (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635941/chapters/67617703#workskin…)

‌"she was my sister before she was your lover" by SeraStars - set at the very beginning of s15; Kai tries to help still mourning Jay and push his own grief away but eventually snaps (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39271809#main…)

"Piggyback" by Echo_K - Kai gives Lloyd a piggyback ride to a candy stash to cheer him up, first after he finds out he's the Green Ninja and second after they put Garmadon in Kryptarium (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36230257#main…)

"lloyd garmadon discovers the ninja's inability to bargain with vendors" by sanology - exactly what the title says with some RG brothers (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39982485)

"lloyd garmadon makes kai smith cry on his birthday" by sanology - exactly what the title says with some RGB siblings and found family (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40838994)

‌"69 boughs of mistletoe on the wall" by lloydenthusiast - polyninja; Lloyd is tired of the ninja dancing around each other so he buys some mistletoe (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36942319#main…)

‌"The Candy Aisle" by VioletPixels - lil Lloyd gets lost in the store looking for the candy aisle and the panic ensures (https://archiveofourown.org/works/32092543#main…)

"The Idiots' Guide to Not Despising Your Cousin" by lloydskywalkers - green cousins go for a road trip (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24932815#main…)

‌"All the Little Things" by IAmStoryteller - a few drabbles of Kai being Nya's parent; mostly set before canon (https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992283/chapters/54970162…)

‌"The Skirt" by Spinchip (Thatkindghost) - Zane would love to wear a skirt but boys are not supposed to wear girl clothes, right?; gnc Zane oneshot (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30447384#main…)

"Stormbound" by Taddy_Maesson - post s15, sorta Seabound Jay AU; Jay hears the call of the storm and decides to follow it, however, doing so has its own consequences (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44427397/chapters/111745534…)

‌"the flames in the hearth" by sanology - post s7; the ninja get invited over by Ray and Maya who want to spend some time with their kids and their friends, but Kai and Nya are not little anymore and their parents forgetting about it grates on Kai (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39025779#main…)

"Bucket List" by Mattecat - after DotD Morro stayed in Ninjago, after s7 he stumbles onto Kai who lets him possess him for 2 weeks so he can live a life he didn't get to when he was alive (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925009/chapters/44928871…)

‌"Days Go By" by thahash - lavashipping, coffee shop au; barista Kai and fashion designer Cole meet after Cole moves to Ninjago City and continues his routine of morning coffee (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47334079/chapters/119270812…)

"Lloyd’s guide to surviving the merge (and finding new family through it)" by BlueberryPeach - Dragons Rising AU where Lloyd met Arin and Sora shortly after the merge,,and kinda adopted them (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48632041/chapters/122672911…)

"you're on your own, kid (yeah you can face this)" by chaniinobu - the 5 times lloyd got sick and didn't ask for help and the 1 time he did (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48855328)

"Tend to the Flame (Lavashipping)" by Pieris_rapae - series, pirates and mermaids au; after his encounter with a pirate named Cole who steals and loses Kai's (a merman in the hiding) pendant, he, together with some others, ends up on a pirate ship (https://archiveofourown.org/series/3627736)

"Autopilot" by swordofsanctuary - greenflower, Brad and Lloyd finally manage to meet up again. Brad asks Lloyd for some help

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/46044562/chapters/115905625)

"King's Gambit" by shoepermario - citrusshipping, Echo finds half dead (even more?) Morro post s5. With no one else in the lighthouse they become close

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/46453207/chapters/116962000)

"The Struggles of having an Alter Ego" by ladc70_2003 - movieverse, the ninja don't know each other's identities and sometimes that might lead to a few problems. Delves into every ninja's life and their issues

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/39497796/chapters/98859363)

"Coinverse" by Mattecat - a series, after getting resurrected by Lloyd, Morro is given into Borg's care. It's a free child to adopt

(https://archiveofourown.org/series/1062602)

"Morro's Spooky Cafe" by coa_trees - movieverse au, Lloyd and his friends are regulars in Morro's cafe. He starts to care for the kids. Unfortunately they're also the ninja

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/48071317/chapters/121213048)

"Starlight, Heritage, and Stupid Self-Sacrificing Humans" by WritingMadness13 - Lloyd, Arin and Sora end up in season 9 Ninjago

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/49201786/chapters/124146586)

"i'm scared cause it means / i'm a little bit soft" by shoepermario - citrusshipping drabbles

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51316885/chapters/129664270)

"Got Room For One More?" by kooki18 - polyninja, after getting into a fight at his new school Kai is sent to help out at a ranch for the summer to avoid suspension. Too bad he falls for 3 other guys there who are already in a relationship

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/46583272/chapters/117307066)

"moonlit mugs and tacit love" by holographicknife - lavashipping, a two-shot of the two ninja pining and then being an adorable old couple

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/39431094/chapters/98685285#workskin)

"No Wu AU" by IdkWhereIAmWhatAmIDoing - the ninja found each other by pure coincidence (and Lloyd in a trash can) without Wu, they also found out they have powers. Quite a rewrite fic

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/42440016/chapters/106583067)

"Post-Crystallized Sillies" by shoepermario - post-crystalized, one shots focused on Harumi, Echo (Mr E) and Morro (sorta set in an au?, check out @ataraxixx love his take on the papaja trio)

(https://archiveofourown.org/series/3769057)

"A Dance" by GravyHoney (@gravyhoney ) - bumblebeeshipping, while Arin makes a list of things for Percival to do after Beatrix's defeat, he decides that dancing is a pretty good start

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51849733)

"look to the rising sun" by stars_brownies_and_metaphors - Arin and Sora chat and some coming out happens

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47611363)

"cold nights and starlight" by stars_brownies_and_metaphors - Lloyd and Sora have a discussion about some habits current and past; **discussion of sh, mind the warnings**

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/47811133)

"Ice Skating" by phantombasketofmuffins (@phantombasketofmuffins ) - bumblebeeshipping, short oneshot of Arin and Percy ice skating :3

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51944410)

"Hoodie stealin'" by RoseLock22 (@roselock22 ) - bumblebeeshipping, oneshot; Arin can't find his hoodie and calls Percy to see if maybe he knows where it went

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51977005)

"The Junkyard" by citrus_stoner - oneshot; after Jay and Nya go to see a movie while visiting Ed and Edna, Ed and Kai talk, set after s1

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/52226914)

"May I request him by my side?" by Tensoserensei - greenflowershipping oneshot; the ninja are invited to a fancy party, Lloyd finds Brad working there as a server and just this once decides to use his status

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/51954877)

"Blue and Green Make Aquamarine" by Finn_M_Corvex - greenflowershipping oneshot; Lloyd tries to figure out what to gift Brad back

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/52597663)

"A song and a spin" by RoseLock22 - bumblebeeshipping oneshot; Percival comes over to the Monastery to help Arin with training. One thing leads to another

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/52487443)

"Dancin'" by RoseLock22 - bumblebeeshipping oneshot; Arin teaches Percy how to dance

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/52737436)

"Starlight, Heritage, and Stupid Self-Sacrificing Humans" by WritingMadness13 - Lloyd, Arin and Sora land in the past during s9

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/49201786/chapters/124146586)

"Permanently Marked" by Tensoserensei - canon divergent, some bumblebeeshipping; Beatrix manages to capture Percival when he was leading the ninja into the resistance hideout. Percy doesn't want the facial markings that would give him a role in Imperium. Too bad that's about to be his punishment for being a traitor

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/53284189/chapters/134845183)

"Sacrificial Jacket" by Tensoserensei - greenflowershipping; Lloyd is hanging out with his old friends from Darkley's when suddenly his period hits. Brad helps out

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/53689999/chapters/135910720)

"Here We Go Again" by Inverse_Me - Cole ends up in the "monastery", a 'last chance' group home for,,special kids with lots of heavy issues **mind the warnings**

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/49937371/chapters/126074998)

"Getting that Couples Discount" by Tensoserensei - greenflowershipping, lavashipping; there's a couples discount in Chen's noodlehouse for Valentines. It stacks up with more couples in the group. But Kai, Cole and Lloyd aren't dating anyone. Fake (?) dating ensures

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/53914618/chapters/136466293)

"What Does it Take for a Hero to Break?" by Blue1Phoenix - oneshot, DR; despite it having been years, trauma from Morro's possession still has some grip on Lloyd. A wrong question from Arin sets it off

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/54227413)

"Wobbly Hearts" by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 - movieverse soulmates au; Kai doesn't like soulmates. He knows he has three of them but he doesn't need them and they don't need him. High school is hard enough with letters floating off the page and writing anything being an almost impossible task. Too bad the universe doesn't care

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/53062414/chapters/134249821)

"you're on your own, kid (yeah you can face this)" by chaniinobu - the 5 times lloyd got sick and didn't ask for help and the 1 time he did

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/48855328)

"Lloyd after Seabound" by Tensoserensei - series, Lloyd dealing with Nya's sacrifice post-Seabound, eventual greenflowershipping

(https://archiveofourown.org/series/3721519)

"I Still Remember (All the People I Love)" by shoepermario - post-s3, Lloyd is cooking with Sensei Garmadon, it reminds him of Zane

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/53273923#main)

"We were supposed to be training, weren't we?" by RoseLock22 - bumblebeeshipping, boys in love during a break in training

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/55050013)

"Recursion" by shoepermario - s5, Swap AU where instead of Morro possessing Lloyd, Zane gets possessed by a different ghost

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/55143352/chapters/139831132#workskin)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: This week is killing me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Sunday sees your second day in your new position. As you send off your letter of resignation to the agency, you can't help the coil that winds tight in your stomach. There's no going back now.

You close out of the several templates you Googled in your efforts. It's the one thing you know how to do. Willa, the friendly librarian who checked out the PC for you, always said, if you can Google, you can figure it out. Still, you feel like there's so much you don't know that you're not sure a search engine can answer.

You close the laptop and take both your phones with you into the hallway. You have to go check out that gazebo and figure out if you need to make a call about it. Oh, and the fridge was beeping when you filled your bottle, you have to call the maintenance number that flashed up too.

That makes you even more anxious. You've never really been the sort for phone calls. You never had anyone to talk to and everything else was easier done in person. Well, you'll have to muddle through. Work isn't supposed to be fun or easy.

As you near the staircase, your flip chimes. You juggle to answer the right phone. The slim touchscreen is set only to buzz, an option not available on the clumsy burner. You answer the call as you stop on the top stair.

The woman on the other end asks for you by name. You confirm your identity as you hear familiar noises in the background. She's a nurse from the downtown hospital.

“I'm calling to confirm your father's discharge tomorrow at noon,” she says over the rustle of paper and clack of keys, “we'll need the bed so if there is any delay, another day would be added to the invoice.”

“I understand, I'll be there, erm… noon. Tomorrow,” you don't have your notebook so you key a reminder into the other phone. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Of course, miss, we would recommend you arrive earlier. We have some resources and counseling available on what you can expect getting the patient settled at home,” she continues, “nine would be ideal. I'll be able to add a note for the doctor to check in as well.”

“Oh, yes, I can do that,” you squeak, “thank you.”

“Alright then, I have all that logged. You have a good day.”

“You too,” you utter before the line dies.

Phone calls weren't too bad. You think you did okay with that one. Then again, you didn't think! You're supposed to work tomorrow. Mr. Laufeyson said you could take Wednesday off, and tomorrow is only Monday.

You close the flip phone and stare at it. Oh boy. You really don't want to spoil this. Just the mention of the coming invoice underlines your desperation. You need the money. Your dad needs it.

“Are you finished?” Mr. Laufeyson's timbre drawls from down the hall. You glance over as he stands just in the doorway of his study. You gulp.

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I didn't mean to disturb–”

“Yet you did,” he insists.

“I was only going to check–”

“Not my concern so long as it's done,” he waves you off, “an important call, I assume, to make such a racket.”

“Mr. Laufeyson, um,” you shove the phones away, one in each of your pockets. “I… could I have the day tomorrow? Instead of Wednesday. My father is getting out of the hospital and–”

“The day? What time?” He snips as he approaches with decisive steps.

“Well, I'm supposed to go at nine,” you explain, “I'll come in Wednesday still.”

“You will come in tomorrow, after all that,” he says. “You can work later then.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, but my father will need help getting settled–”

“Figure it out. You agreed to this schedule–”

“I did but–” you stop yourself as his eyes flare, “I will be here in the afternoon, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“You will be. In the appropriate attire, I expect,” he snarls and spins to strut back to his office, swinging the door shut sharply.

You waver at the hard slam. You didn't mean to anger him. You can't help that your father needs you. You thought Mr. Laufeyson would be more understanding, after all, he's the one who pointed out how much you needed the money.

🧹

Your father shoos you away as you try to help him sit. He lets go of the walker and flops back with a grunt, his oxygen tank clinking against the aid’s metal leg. He coughs and snatches around blindly on the cushion for the remote. You retrieve it from the folding table beside him and put it in his hand.

That agitates him further as he growls and jams down the button to turn on the television. You yawn and back away. You still have a full day left ahead of you, and what feels like one behind you. You spent the night doing some last minute tidying to make sure everything is read for your father.

“Smokes,” he snaps his fingers and hacks.

“Er,” you hesitate. You go to find the half-crushed pack you found with him on the floor. You knew better than to throw it out. You return to him, clutching the package nervously, “Dr. Shearer said–”

“Give it to me,” he demands.

You relent and obey. He’s been doubly miserable than before. You feel like an annoying gnat buzzing around his head as he tries to swat you away.

“I made you meals for the weak. They’re all labeled in the fridge–”

“I’m not a goddamn kid,” he scowls and takes the lighter from the folding table.

“I know, but–”

“But I’m home. You probably hate that,” he sneers, “you’d be happy if I died in that hospital.”

You’re taken aback by the accusation. You gasp and shake your head, “of course not, I’m happy you’re here. That you’re alive–”

“Painfully,” he snorts darkly, “the fuck you keep me here for?”

You take a breath and frown. Your eyes tinge and your cheeks pinch, “because you're my dad… and I love you,” you croak.

He doesn’t reply as he pulls out a cigarette and moves the tube from below his nose. You watch him, waiting. He lights the smoke and sucks on it eagerly. You drop your head and give a shrug.

“I gotta go to work,” you say, “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be slamming around when you come in,” he dusts ash over the freshly vacuumed carpet, “doctor said I needa sleep.”

“I won’t,” you promise and back away.

As you leave the room, your chest plummets in dread. You think of coming home, of finding him like you did before, laying on the floor, lifeless. You sniff and swipe away the speckling of tears. More than you want him to love you, you want him to love himself. You don’t just want him to want you around, you want him to be around.

🧹

You hurry up to Mr. Laufeyson’s gate with your kit and water bottle jostling. You fumble around until you find the smartphone and bring up the digits to punch into the code box. You buzz through and shuffle inside. You set off on your usual path around the back.

You stop at the rear door and try to untangle the strap of the water bottle from your kit. Your hand lingers on the front of the ballooning shirt. You still haven’t gone to look for clothes so you did your best with what you had. One of your father’s forgotten button-ups and a pair of pants that could pass in an office. It’s ill-fitting and scratch but better than jeans.

You get inside and leave your kit in the closet. Today’s a cleaning day but you have a few things to check off the schedule first. With your water bottle bouncing on your hip, you go upstairs and scurry down to the library.

As you enter, you’re surprised to discover the space less than empty. You apologise aloud and choke on the word, ‘mister’. It isn’t the house’s single resident as you expect, no, this figure could not be more different than Mr. Laufeyson. You recognise them, from the dinner.

The blond man faces you as he stands by the window, the drapes open to add the peculiarity of the situation. Like the man, the space is golden with sunlight. You lean back on your heel as you clutch the door handle.

“Hello,” he grins as he greets you in a playful demeanour. You can’t answer. You don’t know if you should.

Is it rule one; don’t speak unless permitted; or the other rule, do not disturb my guests. You can’t figure out the riddle so you languish in perplexity.

“Aren’t you a sweet little lamb,” he muses as he steps away from the window, placing his hands on the back of the dimpled leather chair. His large hands. If you thought Mr. Laufeyson was tall, this man is even taller and twice as wide. “I remember you. The sweet maid.”

You blink. Where is Mr. Laufeyson? You can’t speak. You’re too terrified; not just of the strange man but of the one you know by name. Your employer would be unhappy to know you spoke out of turn.

“Have you seen my brother at all?” He prompts disregarding your stagnant silence. “Has he spoken of me? His brother? I'm Thor.”

You look down at your hand on the door handle.

“And what is your name?” He asks.

You don’t answer. You know it’s not right but you have no other choice. You pull the door shut and close the man in. You retreat in a half-sprint and barrel back down the stairs. You trip at the bottom and barely save yourself from stumbling to your knees.

You latch onto the banister post to keep your balance and catch your breath. You hear the door above. Oh no, would he follow you? Another door clicks and you look up to find a shadow on the other side of the frosted glass framed in the front entrance.

Mr. Laufeyson steps inside coolly, unbothered as swings the door shut and tugs on the lapel of his suit jacket. His eyes fall on you and he scuffs on his sole, tilting his head in curiosity. You didn’t realise he hadn’t even been there. You look at the ceiling with wide eyes; so how was the other man inside?

“Well, there you are,” he says matter-of-factly, “this place is sore in need of a dusting–”

Laufeyson is interrupted by a clamour of footsteps above. You let go of the banister and sidle away as his green eyes flick to the top to the staircase. You shy away and listen as the man descends in a series of thunder thumps. You turn to peek down the hall, wanting to hide in your chores.

“Stay,” Laufeyson commands. You turn back to him as he points at your feet. You stop in place and sway. He faces his visitor as he comes to the bottom stair, “brother, what is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“Can I not come see my baby brother?” The other man; the stranger; his brother, called Thor, booms.

“You may, when you warn me of it,” Laufeyson rebuffs.

“Ah, don’t be so grim,” Thor claps his shoulders and is swiftly shrugged off, “this place is always so dark. I hope you don’t mind, I opened a few windows.”

“I do mind,” Laufeyson says, “you do always presume.”

“And you are always offer such a warm welcome,” he tries to tap Laufeyson’s cheek but is batted away. The dark of the brothers backs up with a scoff. “Ah, and there she is. I was only just coming to find the little maid. She rushed off so suddenly–”

“You don’t need to bother with her,” Laufeyson dismissed with a slice of his hand through the air, “maid,” he points at you again, “back to work.”

You lean back on your heel, ready to disappear.

“Ah, don’t be so rude, brother. She is sweet. You get more bees with honey–”

“Do not tell me how to run my house,” Laufeyson growls, an edge in his voice you’ve never heard before. Dangerous and dark.

“Is she not doing you a service? A please would be appropriate–”

“You are not mother. I don’t need you to mind my manners,” Laufeyson girds and nears his brother, unflinching even as he comes up a few inches short of chest to chest, “nor do you need to worry for my staff. She does not take orders from you.”

“And I suppose that’s all she gets from you,” Thor chuckles.

You furrow your brow, stunned by their spat. You’re not quite sure what that last bit meant. You work for Mr. Laufeyson so of course he would tell you what to do. And why are they so volatile? They’re brothers. You don’t have any siblings but you always wanted one. So that you had a friend. So you weren’t alone.

“Maid, go,” Laufeyson repeats, “now.”

Your eyes widen and you nod. You quickly turn and rush down the hall to the closet. You’re shaking as you try to sort out one phone from the other and find the old list of tasks. You can hardly steady your hands to get a pair of gloves on.

You take your time in the back of the house as you hear the men’s footfalls climb the staircase. You let your nerves settle just a little. You’re alone, for now, and your mission is simple. Clean and stay unseen.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #dirty work #maid au #au #series #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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stickthisbig · 1 year

Text

I've started conducting job interviews at work now? It's terrifying but it turns out I'm really good at it? So if interviewing is daunting, here is my advice from the other side of the table. It turned out to be very long, so here's a cut.

When you apply:

Oh my god please spell check your resume, I beg of you.

Gimmicks absolutely will not help you. You will get so much farther with a resume that is neatly formatted and a cover letter that is straight to the point.

Make sure you count all your experience!! Internships and fellowships count as experience!! The computer system will reject you and I'll never see it in the first place!!

After you've gotten the interview:

If you're trying to get a job in a field you've never worked in (as most of the people I interview are), break down your former employment or experience into the skills you used and keep that information at hand. You used to work in food service? You have experience in delivering an experience at a high quality with basically no margin for error, and you work well under pressure. You were a telemarketer? You have experience at following a workflow and deescalating conflict.

We and every other job WILL be asking you about a. conflict management and deescalation (have examples for how you resolve conflict with coworkers, clients, and bosses) b. personal time management (how you stay organized and on schedule) c. what you do when you realize you can't handle a problem by yourself d. your strengths and weaknesses (see below) Just go on and have an answer ready. You will be asked. There will be questions you're not prepared for. Be prepared for these.

Do a little googling about the company/organization. What will become extremely clear to you immediately is whether they're going to care about you caring about the mission. Some businesses don't. Every non-profit and every government agency does. If they seem like they care, you should pretend to care.

Ask all your questions of the person who is scheduling the interview. I don't recommend trying to figure out who will be your boss and contacting them. Everybody's very busy all the time, none of us are hiring specialists, and we're using the HR staff to act as our buffer. You will look like a nuisance, not a go-getter.

Do look at a map and figure out where you're going. It's vastly preferable to call an hour ahead and say you're unsure where to go than call ten minutes late and say you're lost.

When you walk into the office:

I personally don't give a fast fuck if you come empty handed, but some interviewers HATE that, so definitely bring a notebook and a pen. It's no longer necessary to bring paper copies of your resume. If you're going to interview a lot, may I recommend dropping five or ten bucks on a sketchbook at Michaels or similar? It looks polished and also you can actually use it for things. If you need to write notes to help you remember anything from above, it's okay to write them down. Anybody who would ding you for that isn't someone you need to work for.

If you don't know what to wear: black or khaki pants, nice shirt. Preferably a blazer, but that's optional at entry level imho. Lately I'm finding that the men's sections in thrift stores have better selections? If you've got big hips, you can slit the sides of a men's dress shirt up to your waistline and tuck it in. If you have to come in jeans, wear a belt. If you only have a t-shirt, make sure it's clean and tuck it in. You don't have to prove to me you have money to get this job; you just have to prove to me that you are taking this opportunity seriously by presenting yourself neatly, because you will be expected to be dressed neatly at work.

My sibling in Christ beloved child of God, be polite to every fucking person you see. Oh my god I cannot stress to you how polite you need to be. I cannot believe that this is a thing I have to say, but I sure do! If it's close between you and another person, that snippy comment you made on the elevator WILL lose you that job. Ditto for if they walk you around to meet people. Just be THE politest motherfucker.

When you walk into the room:

When you sit down, what you are looking at is one person who is running the interview, twoish people who are related to your job, and sometimes also someone from HR, unless HR does all the interviewing. One of these people wants to be your hype man. If it's my office, it's me, I'm hype man. I want to have a dialogue with you to see how prepared you are and how good of a communicator you are. I want this interview to go fast and seamless. I'm in your corner. Don't play to the guy who's actively staring off into space. Focus on the interviewer who's most focused on you.

NEVER downplay your own experience. Getting a job you're underqualified for is a problem for future you. If you only have internships, or you only have retail, or you only have food service, or you only have work study, fuck it. You walk in there and act like you've been the goddamn president. The question of your qualifications and the question of your experience are separate. Never act like your experience doesn't count because it's in a "lesser" field.

EVERY. TIME. you are asked about your weaknesses, explain how you have used them for growth. Do not wait to be asked, just slap it in there. One of my biggest weaknesses is giving up control, so I've made a conscious effort to involve other people earlier in the process. If you're not fuckin working on your weaknesses, just try to imagine what would be a good idea. Or maybe work on them? I'm not your dad.

What I am looking for is your ability to answer my questions in a complete and concise way. If you can't give me a specific example, I want you to be able to reflect on your previous work and say "When it comes to X, my experience doing Y is relevant in this way." I am asking you for a synthesis. Most of what I need you to do in this position, I know you've never done. If there is something where I specifically need you to have done X as a professional qualification, there is nothing else you could say that would be right, so you have nothing to lose.

Keep some question in your back pocket for when they ask "do you have any questions for us." It is a hundred percent okay for this to be a softball question, but it's also okay to ask something more probing. You can ask how they handle training, town and gown relations, what the possibilities for employee development are, whether they've done any diversity initiatives, if there's a good work-life balance, what the previous person in the position is doing now, what their strategic planning is like, whatever, just something to prove you're engaged. Do not ask about leave, and do not ask a gimmicky question you saw on the internet. If you can't think of anything, just fuckin ask them how they like working there. That's perfectly fine.

This isn't the time to bring up ADA accommodations. The person who can approve that for you is almost certainly not in the room, and you put us in a super weird position. I am saying this as a person who receives ADA accommodations from my employer and did not disclose my disability when I was hired, as is my legal right. Don't bring it up until you think it would actively prevent you from fulfilling a job requirement or accessing the office. In the before times I had a dude once who called me asking if the building was accessible, because he just wasn't going to interview if it wasn't, and I was just like "...that's fair, my man, but you can come on down."

After the interview:

I fully don't care about a thank you note; I'm unlikely to see it anyway. Some people do. You may send one (1) and ONLY ONE thank you note; generally it should just go to the person who scheduled your interview. Do not, and this is so important, do not email again. I know it is the fucking worst how employers get away with ghosting people but my friend you and I cannot change that. (We do send notices to people who get interviews but don't get the job; people who don't get interviews are informed by the computer system.)

It's gonna be okay. I'm not trying to trick you; I want this to go smoothly, and I want you to demonstrate that you understand how you would use what you've already done to do what I need you to do. I don't want this to be awkward any more than you do. Actually, I want this not to be awkward more than you do, because I have to do this several more times.

#work advice #interviewing #I'm interviewing my new intern in like a week and a half aaaaaaa

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cuubism · 11 months

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Bookstore cryptid Dream part THREE:

Hob squints at his phone, wondering how he possibly managed to set his phone language to-- is that Thai? What? Granted, he'd once set it to Japanese in an extremely ill-fated attempt to learn a new language, only to realize his error the first time he tried to drive somewhere and lost all sense of the nav. And then took three hours trying to figure out how to reset the language. Never again.

So how the fuck did he get it set on another language he can't even transcribe into Google translate to get to Settings?

He sighs, shoving the thing back in his pocket and resigning himself to a phone-less day. Sad, to be thinking of it like that. Once upon a time he could live without a constant internet connection, but no longer, apparently.

Then he gets down to the cafe, and the handwritten menu has been pencilled so badly it's illegible. What are they teaching kids these days if not decent penmanship? He'd have sworn the uni kids he'd hired to man the cafe when he's not there could read.

But he's supposed to open in about five minutes, so he leaves it for now.

The rest of the morning goes reasonably smoothly. Hob makes coffee and sandwiches while one of the hopefully-literate uni kids handles the orders--he finds the repetitive process of espresso-making soothing.

Then Dream comes in, and Hob takes over. It's his cafe, and he'll take the orders from his pretty goth "librarian", thanks.

"Dream," he greets, before Dream can say 'Hob Gadling' in his posh, solemn voice. "You going to let me make you something? Or just delivering another book? Because I'll be honest, I'm not sure I'm ready for another revelatory story from my past yet."

"I will accept coffee, thank you," says Dream, inclining his head. Hob punches it into the machine--he's already decided he's not charging Dream for anything, Dream keeps giving him free books after all--but he's got to keep inventory.

Or he tries to punch it in. The screen is all glitchy and scrambled, the words unintelligible, and he sighs in frustration. Damn thing.

Hob gives up, makes Dream coffee, and when he returns Dream does, of course, have a book for him.

"Simply a recommendation," he says, when Hob looks at it with some trepidation. "I think you might enjoy it."

Hob exchanges the coffee for the book. Looks at the cover. And squints in confusion. "Dream, I'm sorry to tell you this, but I can't read Arabic." Or whatever language. He's pretty sure it's Arabic, but he's not an expert.

Dream, for once, looks flummoxed. "This is an English copy," he says.

Hob opens the cover, wondering if maybe it's a translation inside--but nope, still Arabic. "I'm pretty sure I know English, Dream."

Dream takes the book back. Turns it over. Flips through the pages. Holds it by the spine and shakes it out. Looks at the cover again, then at Hob. "This is English," he says.

What this is is the dumbest conversation Hob's ever had. "Dream. Come on."

"Does it not look like that to you?" Dream asks. When Hob shakes his head, Dream sets his coffee and the book down on the counter and takes Hob's hand, dragging him out into the cafe proper. Hob, stunned, just follows him.

Dream pushes him down into a seat. "Read this," he says, and somehow procures another book, smaller this time, from absolutely nowhere.

Hob looks at it. "This is in French." He does know some French, but not whatever niche topic this is about.

Dream makes a frustrated sound. "Spell it out."

And Hob... tries. But every time he latches on a word, the letters.... change. Somehow.

"What," he says, though it's more of a squeak. "I swear to god I can read."

Dream takes the book back. "It's as I feared." Then, instead of explaining whatever the fuck he means, he asks, "Where do you live?"

"Um." Hob tries not to imagine Dream in his living space. "Upstairs?"

"Come, then." And Dream stands and drags Hob after him to the stairs in the back hall, as if he's the one who lives here and not Hob. He's very determined, and still hasn't explained a bloody thing.

Once Hob's let them in the flat above the cafe, Dream goes straight for the bookcase. It's still a bit of a mess--Hob hasn't entirely moved in--but Dream starts scanning the heaps of books anyway, running his fingers along the spines, flipping them over, restacking them in complicated piles. Hob just watches nervously.

Finally, Dream whirls around, a thin black paperback volume clasped in his hands. "I thought so," he hisses at the book. And then to Hob: "Did you get this recently?"

"Um." Hob thinks back. It's not one from Dream's shop, he still only has the two. "Yeah? Think so. Someone left it downstairs." The cafe has a shelf of borrowable books that people can take as long as they leave one in return.

Dream actually growls at the book. Hob's not sure why. It's just a book of poetry.

"Will you tell me what's going on now?"

"The book I gave you is not in Arabic, Hob Gadling," Dream says. "Nor French. You have been cursed."

Hob has... a lot of scrambly thoughts about that sentence. But the first that comes out is, "By a book?"

Dream nods. "It was planted in your possession by whoever left it downstairs."

"Why? Wait, what does it even do? Make things look like different languages?" Hob really hadn't thought opening a cafe was going to get him put on a magical hit list. Jesus Christ.

"It makes the written word unintelligible to you," says Dream. "Whether via a language you don't speak, or via simple recombination." Hob remembers-- of course. The phone. The menu board. "More a nuisance than a true threat to your person. It was meant to send a message."

Hob sits down heavily on the sofa. Cursed? Seriously? "What the hell kind of message, Dream? If you hadn't noticed, I'm running a cafe, not courting the occult."

Although. Maybe he'd like to be courting the occult. If that occult is Dream.

"A message to me," says Dream grimly. "I have enemies."

Hob can't help himself, he bursts out laughing. "You own a bookstore, how do you have enemies?"

"It's a dangerous occupation," Dream says darkly. He sits next to Hob. "I... am sorry. That you were drawn into it. A penalty of being associated with me."

He sounds sad now, not so much about the "enemies", but at the thought that his company might have brought Hob to harm. Hob lays his hand over Dream's where it rests on his knee. "Hey, it's not your fault. And you know, there's still audiobooks."

Dream chuckles. "I can undo the curse," he says. Which is relieving. "And I will destroy this." He sets the poetry book on the coffee table with a look of menace.

"You know, I haven't even read it?" Hob says. "Just the first few pages."

"It is very good," Dream says, to his surprise. "Hence its danger." Then he turns Hob's face towards him with a hand on his chin. Hob goes totally still in surprise. With his other hand, Dream taps his forehead, and a static shock jumps through Hob's body. "There."

A cloud Hob hadn't realized was covering his mind dissipates. "That easy?"

"For me." Dream stands again, swiping up the poetry book. He looks like he's about to leave, and Hob is almost reeling too much to stop him, but he manages to snag Dream's sleeve. "Wait, won't you stay and finish your coffee? And I want to hear about the book that's not actually in Arabic."

Dream gives him a tiny smile. "Very well. For a little while." He tucks the poetry book into the depths of his coat, and Hob doesn't see it again.

Hob shepherds him back downstairs, makes him more coffee as the other's gone cold, and hears all about The Golden Tree, a novel about a modern-day quest inspired by the Holy Grail. And nothing more about curses, though he is rather interested in that, too.

And in Dream. And his strange magic. And his serendipities.

But he figures he'll have time to learn more about that.

Especially if he's intent on courting the occult.

#bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 6 months

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An Analysis of Percy/Annabeth's Life Aspirations

What do you think Percy/Annabeth would look like as adults?Let's look at their ambitions and ideas of what their "ideal" life as an adult looks like.

Let's break down what Annabeth and Percy's characterizations and what they actually want to do with their lives:

Annabeth.

Annabeth's has always wanted to be a hero. She loves going on quests, gaining glory and being victorious. She's Athena's daughter; she welcomes the challenge and revels in the victory. All throughout PJO we see Annabeth being one of the main driving forces pulling Percy into the greek world. She's never going to want to stop. We see this many times after PJO, when Jason asked Annabeth to go with him, the only reason why she said no was because she was looking for Percy. Right after the Titan War ended and they got the new great prophecy, Annabeth was immediately on it and trying to figure out what it meant. She wanted to be part of it.

As long as Annabeth lives, she'll want to go on quests. This is how Athena (via imposing expectations at a distance) and Chiron raised her. This is what she wants. This is who she is, as a person.

Percy.

Percy has never wanted to be a hero. He never wanted to be a half blood (it's literally the first line of the first book, written in Percy's voice at 19 years old). After the Titan War, he tells the reader that he's done with quests, with the war, with prophecies. He hears the next great prophecy and says "that's a problem for future generations." He leaves camp half blood and doesn't look back, instead planning a normal, human life in Manhattan.

Of course that's ruined by Hera's kidnapping but what's interesting about that second great prophecy is that all the seven demigods chose to be part of it aside from Percy. Percy was dumped in NR and was on a quest the very next day. When he gets back to NR, a few days later the Argo II arrives and Percy is forced to flee on the boat as one of the seven. He spends the rest of the quest missing his mom, eating blue food and questioning if he's actually going to survive and return home. He's not in it for the glory, or for the gods. He was quite literally brainwashed and manipulated by Hera and the others into going. His mental state got so bad that he attempted suicide mid-quest.

To remind everyone: Percy wasn't raised a hero. Sally went to great lengths to keep Percy away from camp half blood until the last possible moment. After a single summer, she asks him to return home, and he does everytime. Yes, he loves camp, but his home is in the mortal world. He has only spent about 4 summers at camp/on quests: that's 8 months total. After finding out his parentage, Percy chose to spent roughly 3 years and 4 months in the mortal world and 8 months in the greek world. He has a clear preference.

To summarize:

Annabeth wants to spend her life going on quests, going on quests and getting challenges and glory. Percy does not want to go on any more quests - he wants to settle down with a family in the mortal world (Manhattan) and live as peacefully as he can.

See the conflict there? They want the exact opposite thing.

This becomes very evident in cotg. Percy is pulled into yet another quest - he needs recommendation letters from the gods to go to New Rome University.

What's interesting about this is that Percy doesn't actually want to go to school. It's literally the first page of the book, he's asking Poseidon to write him a letter excusing him from school. He doesnt even know what he wants to study. He hasnt even looked at New Rome's programs (from what I remember).

So why does he want to go?

Annabeth. She is the only thing pushing him to go. Percy has a good life in Manhattan - his family is there: his mom, Paul, his little soon to be little sister (and Percy clearly states that he wants to be there to see her grow up - starting with changing diapers) and camp half blood. It's where he wants to be. Percy just got back from a severely traumatic year - being kidnapped, in a coma, falling into hell and fighting another war. His mental state was so bad he attempted suicide. He's tired. He finally got back to his safe space, his home, his mom (please remember this boy just turned 17 years old - he still desperately needs his mother). Its less than 2 months and Annabeth is already urging him to go on more quests to go to New Rome with her.

Remember what we just established about their characterizations? Annabeth will never stop wanting to go on quests, and will thrive in the mythology world while Percy wants to stay in Manhattan in the mortal world and do no quests? Yeah. Prime example right there in cotg.

So Percy goes to NRU for Annabeth. It's not what he wants - not the lifestyle he wants, but he loves her and the idea of losing her terrifies him so much that he'd rather go to hell than see her die so he goes.

But eventually his other desires for a normal peaceful life will catch up with him. Annabeth will inevitably be offered another quest, and she'll say yes so Percy will say yes to keep her safe and he'll constantly be doing exactly what he doesn't want to do: more quests. More fighting. More killing. More doing the gods' dirty work. And eventually, it will make him miserable. Maybe to the point of suicide again.

So one of two things will happen:

One: Percy says nothing. Doesn't tell Annabeth how he feels (which he doesnt do at all in PJO, HoO), and runs himself into the ground and maybe attempts suicide again. Maybe he succeeds this time. Maybe he doesn't. But it's a miserable life that - other than having Annabeth - he doesn't want. Has never wanted.

Two: Percy stands up for himself and tells Annabeth that he doesn't want to do anymore quests, that he's done doing shit for the gods. However, Percy would never be okay letting Annabeth go on quest without him watching his back, so this would turn into Percy asking Annabeth to stop going on quests, stop doing things for the gods and to stop seeking challenges and pride. I don't know if Annabeth would ever agree to that, but even if she does it's just a bad because now she's giving up her dreams, her life for Percy. She'd be miserable.

Its a lose-lose situation. Neither of them will be happy together long-term. They want the opposite things. Their dreams and aspirations are directly opposites. They don't make a good long term couple. They shouldn't be together post-war, as adults.

Thank you for sticking around to the end of my TED-talk.

...

This post was inspired by cotg and a post I've seen floating around saying that Percy is perfect for Annabeth because she's ambitious and he has no ambitions and I hate it. It's a bad take imo that doesn't actually account for their actual characterizations and ambitions- only a romantized version that hides percabeth's flaws.

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mcntsee · 5 months

Text

deer y/n,

Summary: First part of letters to her. I recommend reading the prologue first.

Warnings: Ooc Kaz Brekker, I think one cuss word, terrible writing.

Note: Here it is! First part of the letters to her series. This is super short, I was struggling to figure out what to write for this letter, but I promise the rest are better. I am also trying a new writing style. Enjoy!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Oh my.”

“What is it?”

Y/n managed to misplace her necklace—yet again—turning what was supposed to be a delightful date into a search mission for the elusive piece of jewelry.

Kaz was grateful she had agreed to getting some food and dining in. The past week had been a whirlwind of meetings with everyone in the forsaken city, leaving him overwhelmed. He'd endured an excessive amount of handshakes, enough to last a year, maybe three.

But Y/n understood. After all, she had been by his side since he could remember, never passing judgment on him for anything.

"Love?" He called out again. Kaz despised the silence. It could only mean two things: something good or something really bad.

“Y/n?” Usually, he was the type to lean towards options that gave him more than a fifty-fifty chance.

“Y/n!”

“Yes! Sorry I just-“

He found her in the dining room. “What is it?” As he approached, he noticed she was holding something in her hand. However, before he even had the chance to ask about it, she turned, fully facing him with her hand extended out.

"This," she said, glancing at what Kaz now recognized as an aged letter, "happens to be the first letter you ever wrote me."

She cleared her throat, preparing to read the letter to him.

“Deer Y/n,”

“For fuck’s sake.”

Kaz remembered that day with as much clarity as he remembered his lunch from a couple of hours ago.

It hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, no. Yet, he remembered it nonetheless.

“What is the matter with you?”

"Deer." He pointed at the word that was meant to be 'dear'. "Are you not reading?"

“I am and I’m well aware of the fact that is says deer. Once again, what’s the matter with you?”

“Can you put it away, it’s embarrassing.”

“Kaz, you were five.”

He had indeed been five, and apparently, not the brightest when it came to spelling. However, he laid the blame on his dad, who assured him it had looked good enough to send.

“How do you even have that still?”

“I could never lose it.”

“It’s just a letter, Y/n.”

“The first letter I ever got from you.” She corrected.

“It’s still just a letter, Y/n.”

“Whatever Kaz. It’s my most priced possession.”

He could tell she intended to keep reading the letter, but as her mouth open to let out the words, he noticed a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That and the drawing, of course.”

“The drawing?”

“The drawing.”

Kaz really had thought that it couldn’t get worse. Of course he hadn’t needed her to read the letter for him, so he had more than enough time to realize just how bad his grammar had once been.

But then, she decided to turn back around to grab the drawning and show him.

“I miss spots.” she said. In truth, he shared that sentiment. Spots had been his first and only pet.

He had entertained the idea of getting another pet with her. Perhaps another feline, or a loyal canine. Maybe even a crow. A replacement for the family he knew he couldn’t provide to her. “He was a great cat.”

“Indeed. He had to put up with you everyday.”

“I-, You know what? Same goes for you.”

That laugh. He was convinced that her laughter was the only force capable of resurrecting him from death. That and her eyes, of course, especially when they sparkled with mischievousness.

“Wait! Look,” Before he had a chance to see what she was pointing at, she covered the letter with her hand, completely defeating the purpose of asking someone to look.

“I am trying.”

"No, wait. Before I show you, you know how you always ask why I always sign: Love, my name, and then an exclamation mark with a heart instead of a dot?"

If he was honest, the question about her peculiar signature had crossed his mind only a couple of times. However, with the letter concealed and her mischievous grin, he wondered if uncovering the reason was a journey worth embarking on. “Mhmm...”

“Look!” She said while pointing at Kaz’s - or, well, five year old kaz’s signature. “Look, look, look, look, look.” Kaz couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, but he still couldn’t fathom why she was making such a fuss over his childhood attempt at penmanship. “Sweetheart, I am looking.”

There it was, his old signature in all its glory, proudly proclaiming, "Love, Kaz!"

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #fluff #kaz brekker

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kyojurismo · 8 months

Note

Can you do how the Hashira treat you as a younger sibling figure(if that makes sense) If so than tysm!!<3

characters : hashira

tags : gn!reader, fluff, funny, not proofread.

notes : k this has been sitting in my drafts for literally months and i’m deeply sorry. i found some motivation to finish it so here we are. i hope it is good enough. enjoy <3

GIYU TOMIOKA

ptsd ( even if he was the younger sibling )

protective as fuck

he’s like a shadow

don’t be too surprised if he asks you to eat together

asks you > sends you glances

giyu will ask the master to send you on missions together

asked you to leave the corps once

if you’re not on missions together he goes full panicking

he’s not one to send letters but he gladly exchange them with you ^_^

if someone mess with you, he would take care of it ( a deep stare is enough )

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA

gyomei would always recommend to be careful and mindful of your actions while on missions

he does his best to take care of you

has you training with him so he’s sure you’re in good shape and all

he too tried to ask you to leave the corps but hearing your reason behind joining in he gave up

has deep respect for you

enjoys sharing meals with you

KYOJURO RENGOKU

loves training with you

super supportive of whatever you do

& keeps his eyes on you ofc

eating meals together is a must

he often asks to be sent on missions together

praises your hard work all the time

a comfortable shoulder to cry on >_<

MITSURI KANROJI

the very protective older sister who’s all sweet and lovely but doesn’t let it slide if someone is treating you bad

always keeps her eyes on you

loves going on mission together !!

be ready to cook with her

she likes styling your hair

she sometimes jokes about you joining the corps to find a lover too, but deep down she would prefer you staying away from all that ):

when mitsuri has nothing to do she’s always by your side

MUICHIRO TOKITO

you’re the only one he remembers

always checking on you

invites you to cloudgazing together

always going on mission together

he has to make sure you are alright

you’re becoming the younger sibling who has to pack the lunch for everyone (;

OBANAI IGURO

man,

he’s your shadow from now on

always, ALWAYS, coming on missions with you

supervises your training and all

makes sure no one is disturbing you or bullying you or anything

he cares deeply about you and would do everything for you

tried to convince you to leave the corps multiple times

he lets kaburamaru spend time with you when he’s busy

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

okay, don’t judge on this…

he basically started threatening you to leave the corps

he’s hard at first, as a way to discourage you or sum

but in the end he accepted you weren’t leaving

so now he has to watch over you too

training together, going on the same missions, making sure the other members are respectful, etc

he might be harsh most of the time, but he truly cares about you

lets you hug him from time to time ( when no one is around ofc )

SHINOBU KOCHO

another younger person to look after to !!!!!

jokes aside, she’s very attentive when it comes to you

makes sure you’re healthy, sleeping enough, eating & training like you’re supposed to do

she offers to accompany you on missions

but respects your decision if you decline

she likes preparing you meals, as a way to show you how much she cares for you

of course she gifted you a butterfly pin

TENGEN UZUI

oh man, he would stand there showing you off

doesn’t care if he’s not your real brother

he treats you like family

basically spoils you

would let you stay at his estate 24/7 without you going out there fighting demons

he helps you with training and offers to go with you when the master assigns you to a mission

ruffles your hair

his wives decided to start cooking for you too so yeah

i believe he would ask you if you’re sure you want to continue be part of the corps and fight demons, like trying to convince you that you could leave and live a normal life

but he doesn’t do that because he thinks you’re weak, but because he’s scared of you dying

would take you to the hashira meetings if he could >_<

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

#📂 — writing !!#giyuu tomioka x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #obanai iguro x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #tengen uzui x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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losergender · 5 days

Text

masterpost of solangelo + others fic recommendations

absolutely no one asked for these but i need them all storaged in one place.

[ list goes from solangelo multi-chaptered fics to one-shots + other ships at the end ! will be updated from time to time ! ]

MULTICHAPTERED SOLANGELO FICS !

just an animal, looking for a home - ikeasharksss (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44264458)

Mortal 1987 AU. Nico is running away from his home in Washington, DC to find his sister, Bianca, at UCLA. Will is running away from his home in rural Texas to find his long-lost father, Lester Apollo Papadopoulos, in Hollywood. The two of them meet on the road and become runaway buddies, going on a journey together to survive Greyhound buses, amateur punk bands, Pizza Huts, pretentious music tastes, and their own pasts, tooth and nail.

can't see you, im losing my mind this time? - rabbit_soup (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38765766)

“You’ve got micro-pieces of glass in your skin, and I can’t in my right mind let that stuff just fester in there.” “Glass…? Where—?” He racked his brain, slowly glancing up at Will. He didn’t remember breaking any glass on the quest. “Strangest thing,” Will said, pulling an orange container out of the box. On its side, it read Arm and Hammer, Baking Soda in thick white lettering. “Both Annabeth and Percy swung by a few minutes ago, talking about the exact same thing—glass in their hands! The both of ‘em! Isn’t that interesting?” The glass beaches in Tartarus... Nico thought.

The Rose of Paphos - Tundras_and_Taigas (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30327402)

During a trip up to the Big House’s attic, Will, Valentina, and Mitchell stumble across an old relic of Aphrodite’s: the Rose of Paphos. Created by Hephaestus as a courting gift, the ancient metal rose blooms whenever it's held by someone who harbours romantic love for another. When the rose reveals Will's hidden feelings for an unnamed camper, Nico isn't sure whether to hold out hope or try to move on. OR: Nico and Will need a little nudge. Aphrodite is happy to oblige.

peach tea - ghosttotheparty (https://archiveofourown.org/works/48987730)

He sits up after a moment, but Nico doesn’t let go of his fingers, so he lifts the arm that’s awkward between them and sets it behind Nico, leaning back to rest on it. Nico just looks at the tapestry. Will brushes his thumb over the side of Nico’s hand gently. His skin is soft. Nico’s fingers tighten on Will’s. It kind of feels like neither of them wants to move. Will doesn’t mind. or; Will falls in love with the new kid.

Opportunity Knocks - nikkiRa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690698)

Two years after the war with Gaia, Nico tries to run away again, but on the way he is ambushed by Aphrodite, who has decided to take a personal interest in him - lucky him. Nico finds himself stuck in a Groundhog Day situation, reliving the same day over and over until he can figure out what the hell Aphrodite wants from him.

SOLANGELO ONE-SHOTS !

Bigger 'n Texas - notalotgoingonatthisinstant (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217360)

The accent. The accent was his problem. Well, it wasn’t his only problem. There were a lot of other things that drew Nico to the son of Apollo, to the point of him actually considering if he returned his feelings. All he knew was that he was going crazy and one of them would have to speak soon. . . . "'I’ll be back real quick with lunch,' Will told him. 'Don’t go anywhere. Unless I’m not back in twenty minutes, then you can hunt down my siblings until you find the culprit,' he winked. Nico told the skeletal butterflies in his stomach to quiet down and managed to keep a smile on his face until the door closed behind Will. Then he smacked himself in the forehead for being so stupid stupid stupid, again. First, get a crush on the live version of his childhood game hero. Then get a crush on the caring healer who was nursing him back to life. What was his problem?"

carving through the dark (to get so far) - doeheart (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51640546)

"Your soulmate wears all the bad things you believe about yourself on their skin. They hold it for you so you don't have to. When you look at the things you don’t like about yourself, you also have to face someone who loves you. It’s like feeling whole again. Apollo’s the god of truth, you know. So there are no lies between soulmates." Will got his first soulmark at night. Coiled around his bicep like a snake, the word 'cursed' hissed in jet-black letters. The marks kept coming after that. An au where all the worst things your soulmate believes about themselves show up on your skin. Will wants to know why his soulmate hates himself.

Those walls I built didn't even put up a fight - sazandorable (https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482184)

"Is it morally okay to stab a medic with their own scissors?" Nico asked Cecil. (Not that he usually cared about morally okay, as Octavian might demonstrate.) Nico's three days in the infirmary go by faster than he'd thought, and Will just won't stop flirting.

i could be your hero - sundaysabotage (https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528247)

“I just don’t get it,” he huffs to Will as they put up holiday decorations in the unusually quiet infirmary, “they talk to me like I’m supposed to know stuff. Like I’m the new Percy or something.” Nico expects Will to laugh at this, shrug off his concerns as unfounded and tell him he’s being over-dramatic like usual. He is wrong. “Okay, babe, don’t take this the wrong way. But, you kind of are the new Percy.”

OTHERS !

Like a New Yorker - notalotgoingonatthisinstant (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231837)

Annabeth knew Percy was from New York City. Born and raised. She was very aware of that fact whenever she couldn’t understand what he’d said because he’d spoken so fast that there were barely any words. She had gotten used to it, having lived in New York for a while. What she hadn’t exactly gotten used to yet was… well. How many times he could let f*** slip in front of the little kids at Camp. // OR Percy curses like a true New Yorker and son of Poseidon, Annabeth's trying to keep things flowing, and Piper makes fun of him so he makes fun of her. Because, really, sometimes she sounds like a Kardashian and he sounds like he's not even speaking English.

King-sized Candy Bars - liktetolaugh (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380360)

It takes a week or two for Percy and Grover to actually become friends, even after they're roomed together. Because Percy, twelve years old, pragmatic, and hostile, is about as easy to make friends with as Thalia was. Hopefully, Grover will pull it off in the end.

Stars on the Water - liketolaugh (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38319247) i love this one so much

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

#nico di angelo #will solace #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #solangelo #fic rec #fanfic recommendations #alternative universes #Ao3 #pjo fanfiction #pjo hoo toa #hoo #toa #pjo nico #nico pjo #will pjo #pjo will

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mlmxreader · 1 year

Text

Tío | platonic!Alejandro Vargas x m!reader

anonymous asked: Hello! I love your work man

Can I request Alejandro x male reader but reader is a teenager (or just younger in general) and Alejandro is an uncle figure for him

summary: Alejandro is so, so proud of the man, the soldier, that you have become.

tws: smoking, mentions of violence

Alejandro loved it when he was sent to work with the Gurkhas for a while, as it always gave him a chance to see his adopted nephew; it always gave him a chance to see the young soldier who he had taken under his wing a long while ago, and had kept an eye on ever since. The complete lack of blood relation didn't matter, as far as you and Alejandro were concerned, he was very much your uncle. The young soldier from Nepal who Alejandro had met through none other than Price, he had practically watched you grow up; from a private, to one of the most infamous Gurkhas alive, Alejandro's pride in you could only ever be compared to that of a father's. He took the chance to visit when he could.

Six pack boxes of Red Bull sat on the desk, the ashtray half full, the stench of Marlboro cigarettes harsh in the air, the sound of 'Adrenaline' by Joe Ford and Hacktivist loud as Alejandro smiled; he found himself nodding along to the song as he admired the decorative medals and trophies on the wall. You certainly were accomplished, clearly thriving as a Gurkha. He couldn't be prouder, his hands clasped behind his back as he read the letter from high command, congratulating you on a job well done; he took a picture, and sent it to the group chat that he was in with Rudy and task force one four one, captioning it with how proud he was. But then the door opened, and Alejandro had to act quick as he stuffed his phone into his pocket, just in time for you to grab him as you hugged him tightly.

"Tío Ale!"

Alejandro grinned as he held you close to him. "(y/n)! How are you?"

"Did you see the letter?" You asked, excitement in your voice. "The one high command sent?"

"Sí, I did," he nodded. "Well done, muchacho!"

You grinned, tapping his shoulder as you pulled away, making your way to the desk so that you could light up a cigarette. "It's thanks to you, y'know, Tío."

He scoffed, sitting down at the desk and putting his feet up on it as 'Reprogram' by the same band started to play just as loudly. "How so?"

"If it weren't for you, Price wouldn't have recommended me to the Gurkhas," you explained, "if he hadn't have done that, then I wouldn't be where I am now... I owe everything to you, sāthi."

Alejandro scoffed as he shook his head, resting his hands on his stomach as he watched you for a moment; he could hardly believe that you were the young soldier from Nepal that he had met all those years ago. He wondered where the time went, wondered how the time had slipped through his fingers so quickly; he had done his best to capture it all as much as he could, suddenly wishing that he could pause time just so that you wouldn't grow up so quickly in front of him. He couldn't wipe the proud smile from his face, though, wanting to let precious time go by just so that he could try and remember the moment; he felt like a father watching his child grow up, go to school and start going out with friends, a sort of bittersweet joy and pride.

"You okay?" You asked, chuckling softly.

Alejandro shook his head. "It's nothing, sobrino... you're just growing up so fast."

You shrugged, leaning against the wall opposite him as you cleared your throat and tilted your head to the side. "Yeah, but... I'll never stop being your bhatījā."

"lo sé," he whispered, nodding. "I know, muchacho... you're getting bigger every time I see you... where'd the time go, eh?"

You couldn't help but to laugh, shaking your head and daring to sit with him, leaning on the desk as you grinned. "Slips by, don't it?"

Alejandro nodded again. "I remember when I brought you with me to meet the others in the task force and you were half asleep at the table."

"Please don't," you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'll never live that down."

He tittered. "No, you won't... I'm proud of you, niño. Really."

"I know, Tío," you murmured, nodding. "You remind me every time we're in the same room."

"I mean it," Alejandro said seriously, running a hand through his hair. "I'm really proud of you, sobrino. You've done well, really well."

You shook your head, taking a last few drags before stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray. "You don't have to keep reminding me, y'know... I know you're proud, Tío. I know."

"I'll keep reminding you," he shrugged. "Just don't be a idiota engreído."

You laughed softly. "I won't, bhatījā... pratijñā."

"Good," he cleared his throat. "You gonna show me around?"

You nodded, practically jumping out of your seat and rushing towards the door, grinning like an idiot; Alejandro got up slowly, and when you tried to run off, he laughed as he told you to slow down, he wasn't as young as he used to be after all. But you were so excited, so eager to show him where the Gurkhas trained and lived when they weren't out on missions; he felt tears prick at his eyes, so proud of you when you showed him how they had trained you to decapitate enemies with the infamous kukri blades. He really did wonder where the time had gone between him meeting you and taking you under his wing as a young soldier, to seeing you perform flawlessly on the training fields with your kukri; you were dangerous, capable of fatally wounding someone without thinking twice, belonging to one of the most brutal, infamous, and most elite forces to exist.

But to Alejandro, you were still that young soldier from years ago that he had watched grow up. You weren't a Gurkha to him, you were his nephew, and he loved you to pieces and although you told him not to tell you so much, he really was just that proud of you.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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jurakan · 5 months

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I got a weird prompting to ask for a fun fact about someone who came up with a whole system of writing and then just disappeared. Odd, I know.

Well, you came to the right place, friendo! Today You Learned about Sequoyah.

[I had hoped to do this around Thanksgiving, or for Indigenous Peoples Month, but no one asked for it then so better late than never!]

Okay, maybe you have heard of the man. But if not, here ya go: Sequoyah was a Cherokee man born in Tennessee around the year 1770. When he grew up, his day job was actually being a silversmith, trading with trappers and merchants that came through Cherokee territory. He was pretty darn good at it too, and signed off on all of his work.

Something he noticed, though, was that the Europeans who went through had a written language, and that it was helpful for recording information and talking to people far away. That’s handy, Sequoyah thought. We should have our own written language. Because at that point, Cherokee didn’t have a written language. So, apparently, this man decided to just… make one up.

I say “make one up” as if he came up with it on the spot without thought. No, that’s not what happened. In 1809, Sequoyah began to study English, Greek, and Hebrew, and developed a written system for the Cherokee language. Each symbol represents a syllable, rather than a letter like in the English writing system, leading to a total of over 80 symbols for the alphabet.

Everyone thought he was crazy, but I want to be clear: he did it. This man, a silversmith by trade, created a written language system that within twenty years of its creation became the official written language of the Cherokee Nation.

That’s insane, guys! Where is this guy’s biopic? If you lived in a place with heavy Cherokee history, like the Carolinas, chances are you’ve heard of him–the NC Museum has a small exhibit on him in their section on Cherokee history, and we covered him in school in an article/essay/non-fiction story (I don’t know what we call those things) called “Sequoyah and the Riddle of the Talking Leaves”, but it’s nuts to me that he’s not a more famous figure in American history, considering this.

Sequoyah actually taught the language to his daughter Ayokeh first, so that he could prove that it worked and made sense. Then he spent a ton of time traveling through Cherokee territory to get people to see its usefulness and learn it. Apparently, it worked.

So the US government thought this was awesome and gave Sequoyah a mansion to live in, right? [/sarcasm] No, you can probably guess from the timeline what happened. He went to Washington D.C. to protest and argue with other Native American leaders against the Indian Removal laws the government was enacting, but wasn’t successful, leading to the Trail of Tears. His interactions with other nations led him to decide to try to create another system of writing for all indigenous Americans to use. I don’t think it ever got completed, but someone with more knowledge on the subject can probably tell you more.

He died in Mexico, on an expedition based on the rumor that some Cherokee had gone there–the reunification of the Cherokee people was a big deal to him, after all.

We think he died there, anyway.

See, we don’t actually know where his body is. Officially, he died in 1845 of a lung infection; we don’t know where his body is. The Cherokee funded an expedition to find his grave in the 20th century, but while they found a grave in Coahuila, Mexico, they aren’t sure if it’s his. In 2011, a newspaper argued that actually he wasn’t buried, his skeleton was found in 1903 in a cave in Oklahoma.

I found this out by seeing that he’s listed on Wikipedia’s “List of People Who Disappeared” (which I do not recommend reading if you are sitting alone in a house at night).

Well, he’s still an important national figure. He’s got some recognition–his statue is in the US Capitol, he’s got a sculpture in front of the Cherokee Museum in North Carolina, and! Along with several figures from world cultures credited with inventing/teaching writing, he’s on the doors of the John Adams Building of the Library of Congress.

YMMV may vary on whether or not it’s good that he’s on there with a bunch of mythological figures.

#Sequoyah #Cherokee #Today You Learned #Fun Fact Friday #US history #language

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 1 month

Note

I turn 18 next year and I’m not sure where I can get testosterone, I’ve looked at planned parenthood’s website but the only one in my state doesn’t offer hrt services 😭 do you have any advice on how to access hrt?

Lee says:

Happy (Very very) early birthday! If you're still a year away from being 18 you have plenty of time to figure this out.

You should start by talking to your primary care physician and ask if they are knowledgeable about gender-affirming care and are willing to prescribe you HRT themselves. If they are not experienced with HRT for gender-affirming reasons, ask them to look into it and refer you to a healthcare provider who is.

While you're waiting for your appointment (often it can be at least a month away even if you schedule the first available date) use that time wisely and go out into the world (And internet) and talk to people! There must be at least ONE other trans person in your state who is on hormones, right? You just have to find ONE other trans person in your state who is on hormones (and trust me-- there's more than just one trans person on hormones in your state! But all you need is one person), then find out where they're getting their prescription from!

Online platforms can be a great resource for shared experiences and advice so I'd just start by googling "transgender [insert hormone name] in [insert state]" until you find the right key terms. You might also be able to find something on Reddit or through Facebook groups.

Additionally, going to trans support groups and meeting people there and asking your trans friends to ask their friends, etc can all be a good way to find a provider through word-of-mouth.

Another thing you can try is contacting LGBTQ+ centers or organizations in your state and seeing if they have any recommendations. Even if Planned Parenthood's local branch doesn't offer HRT services, they may have a lists of trans-friendly healthcare providers or clinics that do, so it could still be worth reaching out to them.

If you're planning on attending college or university, check if the campus health center provides HRT or can refer you to local resources that do. Some college health centers offer comprehensive services for transgender students, but unfortunately most do not.

Many healthcare providers now offer telehealth services for transgender patients looking to start or continue HRT. These services can be particularly helpful if you live in an area with limited access to transgender healthcare. Providers like Folx Health, Plume, and QueerDoc offer gender-affirming care to patients in many states, all through telehealth platforms.

There's more info on starting hormones in this post, and you should take a look at that too.

Finally, I'm guessing that you don't have much experience with adulting which is fine because everyone starts somewhere! I was in the same position as you once. I also started to look into starting T when I was 17 and got everything ready (appointments scheduled for after my birthday, letter of support since it wasn't fully informed consent, lab work done the month before I was 18, etc), but didn't actually start hormones until I was 18.

Everyone has a different path through life, but this may be your first time scheduling doctor's appointments for yourself, signing up for a patient portal, getting your own health insurance (unless your parents support you being on HRT and wouldn't boot your off of their coverage), paying for appointment and prescription and lab work copays, etc.

Since you have a year until you're actually 18, it would be a good idea to start getting prepped for your first dive into the healthcare system as a legal-adult-even-if-it-doesn't-always-feel-that-way and google the basics of having and using health insurance. There's a lot of words you're going to need to learn one day (what's a deductible vs an out of pocket maximum vs an allowed amount etc) and this is as good of a time as any to start learning some of those basics (The advanced level is learning how to appeal denied claims, etc).

You got this anon! You're clearly on the right track by starting to investigate the process of starting HRT in advance, and remember that starting HRT as an adult also comes with adult responsibilities like figuring out how to pay for it! When you're thinking through the logistics of finding an in-network prescriber, don't forget to budget for those things too.

Followers, any tips for anon?

#Lee says #hrt #trans #hormones #gaht #gahrt

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sitp-recs · 5 months

Note

Hi I looooooooooove your rec lists you have helped me through SO much by making it available to read any kind of fic I need at that time!!

I was hoping for any recommendations for angsty & ptsd drarry fics with nightmares and anxiety/ panic attacks. But Draco and Harry help eachother through it and use sex/BDSM as a coping mechanism / to help each other heal. My all time favourite is Scenes of Surrender by Rasborealis, but I've never found anything like it.

Hi there friend, so happy to know you enjoy the recs! Scenes of Surrender is fantastic and while I don’t read a lot of BDSM in general, I do love me some fics exploring mental health issues and sex as a coping mechanism. I hope you enjoy these, btw I haven’t read Freedom to be but from what I’ve heard it might be a good fit :)

Begin As You Mean To Go On by @doubleappled (E, 2.8k)

The first time, it was an accident. The second time, Harry’s going to have to ask.

A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

Wicked Game by Cassiopeias_shadow (E, 20k)

Harry and Draco fall into a spring that allows them to enter into each other’s dreams - but Harry doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, not at first. Why does he keep seeing Draco having kinky sex with a dream version of Harry? And furthermore, why does he like it?

Inside Your Mind by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 36k)

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

The Waiting by @oknowkiss and @babooshkart (E, 43k)

It’s been almost ten years since Draco Malfoy disappeared during a routine Curse Breaker training exercise. Harry, his partner in more ways than one, is determined to figure out why. As the past resurfaces and the present fades into confusion, Harry discovers the only thing more unreliable than memory is love.

What Shall Not Be Unearthed by @iero0 (E, 49k)

At the northernmost point of Shetland, surrounded by pointed cliffs, towers the Ootsta Lighthouse on a small isle in the middle of the open sea. Little does Harry know that he's not the only new lighthouse keeper. Draco Malfoy is as obnoxious as he always was, with his posh tone of voice and his luxury yacht jumpers. Harry tries his best to avoid the git—who knows what he's up to anyway?

Chocolate and Pastry by agentmoppet, anemonen (E, 50k)

When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

#asks #Drarry reclist #ptsd #sex as a coping mechanism

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zwy01 · 2 months

Text

Blood Moon AU!! Part 2 - Werewolves

Second part of my second major AU, Blood Moon AU. The nobles and werewolves basically have a race swap in an almost brand new setting.

For more info, check out my first post where I explained the general lore and setting of this AU (highly recommended for a better understanding because characters in this post reference characters in the one linked below here):

I didn’t do every character because there’s a lot of them, so I left out ones that don’t have major roles in the story. If they have a name in canon, then they all exist in this AU, just that I haven’t named/drawn them yet. Maybe in the future if I feel like it. But for now, this is pretty much it.

The characters.

Peach: Current Lord of the Werewolves. Adoptive father of twins Ruth and Rosemary. Peach isn’t his real name. No one knows what his real name is. He never mentions it, and he simply smiles and doesn’t answer when asked. Peach is just the nickname the werewolves came up for him at some point because his face is covered in small fuzzy hairs which gives him the appearance of a fresh peach. And no one can really recall how he became Lord. It just sort of happened. The werewolves all agreed that he’s good for the job, and the throne became his in the blink of an eye. Okay then, sigh, fiiiiine, he’ll do it. The werewolves seem quite happy about it. It’s almost like they all voted on him. And the previous Lord has had enough and decided it was time for him to retire and enjoy the rest of his days with his family, so he was more than enthusiastic to step down and hand things over to Peach. Peach was confused about being put into a leadership role out of the blue, but he adjusted very well and does a good job of caring for his people. Perhaps the werewolves realized that physical strength is not the only attribute of a good leader. Maybe this is what they call change, and that they have evolved from the old ways. Anyways, Peach does qualify for role of Lord since he is decent at fighting and an impressive warrior, but his greatest strengths lie in his communication skills and diplomatic nature when it comes to problem solving and negotiation.

Peach is responsible for communicating with Marcus and his fellow nobles of the secret noble organization regarding transportation and distribution of resources from Lukedonia to werewolf island. Peach is eternally grateful to Marcus and his allies for going as far as to betray their noble Lord and in the process risk their own lives to help the werewolves survive and thrive in these trying times. The werewolves do have their own means of production, but it’s not enough and they need some extra help. And Marcus and his nobles answered. Peach just can’t thank them enough. Peach is also good friends and pen pals with Marcus. They call each other “Peachy” and “Maduke” in their letters.

Peach puts his own needs behind those of his people. When Marcus’ supplies of food, money, and other essential items arrive, Peach always tells his people to pick everything they need and even bring home some extras. He waits for everyone to take their share, then he picks from whatever is left. This often results in him not eating enough, though his weight loss is also partially due to him subconsciously eating less than what he really needs. He does this out of love for his people, and he wants to save every extra bite for someone who might need it… even if there are enough resources to go around a few times thanks to Marcus. Peach just wants everyone to have a good life, and being their leader means putting his people above all else, including himself. The werewolves are aware of their Lord’s tendencies to unintentionally skip meals, and they figured out a way to solve that. They would tell him that they won’t eat unless he does too, and then Peach would eat because he doesn’t want his people to starve themselves. If it works, it works. Peach appreciates his people just as much as they appreciate him. They know it’s no easy job to be Lord, and they’re all there to support him. Peach has their full respect and this unanimous sentiment is more than rock solid. He is their only candidate for Lord and they will never challenge him for as long as he’s willing to sit on the throne. There probably are quite a few werewolf warriors who are stronger than him and could defeat him in a duel, but no one even thinks of challenging him despite the old rules stating how the strongest gets to rule them all. Peach is simply too precious. Quite unusual for a warlike supernatural race, maybe even too peaceful to be true, but it’s real. The werewolves are one big happy pack.

Peach has no biological children, though the number of werewolf women who are eyeing him and more than willing to have his children can probably form a line all the way up to Mother Moon in space. It makes sense, he’s literally the perfect man.

Peach has two adopted daughters, Ruth and Rosemary, whom he found by the werewolves’ equivalent of a dumpster. He felt sorry that their parents didn’t want them, and took them in and raised them as his own.

Ruth: Adopted daughter of Peach, and Rosemary’s twin. Ruth is rather sensitive and has a tendency to make decisions based on feelings and impulse, and needs to learn not to jump to conclusions. She is also prone to overthinking and still doubts Peach’s love for her to this day. Ruth thinks her father only adopted her out of pity and that he is only nice to her because it makes him feel good about himself, which are all false. This puts a strain on their relationship and Peach has a hard time bonding with Ruth, and Rosemary takes up most of the communication between these two. Ruth does genuinely love Peach as her father but she just needs plenty of reassurance. Other than that, she’s a pretty chill person despite being stoic at times. Technically, Ruth has a lot of privileges as the daughter of the Lord, but just like her father, she has an immense love for her people thus never actually uses the perks she’s entitled to. Like Peach, she waits for others to take what they need and scavenges for the leftovers, though Peach always stops her and asks her eat properly because she’s still growing. When Ruth refuses and insists on being like her father, Peach then orders her to eat and she has to listen to him. It’s the only time Peach ever orders Ruth to do anything and it’s a running joke in the family, to the former’s amusement and the latter’s annoyance.

Ruth is also a bit of an odd one out when compared to her fellow werewolves because she somehow finds fighting with a sword to be much more natural and swift as opposed to using her claws like werewolves are supposed to. It just feels way more intuitive, and she knows how to fight in that style. Too bad no one shares this feeling, and to this day Ruth remains the only person who can teach herself. Peach is looking into bringing proficient swordsmen into werewolf island so his daughter can have someone to bond and train with. His success is limited, and Ruth is stuck with self-learning. Maybe another day. People think it’s funny how the Lord’s daughter favors swinging around some sharp stick over Mother Moon’s gift of transformation and hand-to-hand combat. Well, she’s already kind of weird, so. Sticks over fists, y’all.

Ruth has a crush on Kenji.

Rosemary: Adopted daughter of Peach, and Ruth’s twin. While Ruth is skittish and distant, Rosemary is social and upbeat. Rosemary hopes that her sister will eventually see that her assumptions about their father’s feelings for her are only misunderstandings, but for now she’ll keep acting as the bridge between these two because Ruth isn’t exactly enthusiastic about sitting face to face and talking it out with pops Peach just yet. Rosemary just sighs. This is also why Rosemary is closer to their father because she has no problems with expressing herself and the communication between them is much better. Rosemary is the less independent twin and likes to stick around Peach for most of her day because she simply likes being around him, and the latter is quite flattered. She enjoys assisting Peach with his work and she’s one of the most hard-working volunteers who helps to transport and distribute the contents of Marcus’ packages to the citizens of werewolf island.

While Rosemary enjoys hand-to-hand combat, she also likes to study magic and draws magic circles in her free time. Being a werewolf magician is just so cool. Shooting powerful laser beams and setting up movement restriction spells? That’s a YES. Rosemary is a big fan of noble streamer Zivon Tradio, who goes by “GlitterDream KittyPaws” on the internet. Perhaps she can alter and adapt some of his spells for her own use. She also has a bunch of his merch, with a pink nail filer with his face on it as the latest addition to her collection. Peach is aware of Rosemary’s hobby and is supportive of her. It’d be fun if she can learn some tricks and give him a new hairdo in the snap of a finger! So fun.

Rosemary has a crush on Cloudy.

Ronan: Younger brother of Larke. A haughty and prideful werewolf with a certain hatred for nobles. Ronan insists that he despises all of them even though many of the foods he eats and the things he uses were generous gifts to them from Marcus, who is… a noble. His argument is that the noble Lord is incredibly selfish and malicious for monopolizing almost all the available resources in the world for Lukedonia and that Marcus is just doing what he’s supposed to do, to redistribute some of that back to the inhabitants of the world, which includes his pack. It does make some sense, but Ronan completely ignores the huge risks Marcus has taken by going against his Lord and he is somewhat ungrateful. His older brother Larke tries to correct him, to no avail.

Ronan is known for his speed, though Larke is even faster than him. He takes great pride in his brother’s achievements as well as his own. Ronan tries hard to impress Larke and loves him very much, though he doesn’t tell him that his deepest fear is that Larke will abandon him one day; a fear that will never come true but haunts him nonetheless.

Ronan also has a dislike for humans but he secretly loves spicy ramyeon and chocolate coated cookie sticks. It’s almost like a guilty pleasure to him, and he’d get all embarrassed when someone points out his double standards. Marcus occasionally sends human treats to werewolf island as well, and you can bet Ronan’s always rushing to check what’s new. He’s too prideful to admit it. Sigh.

Ronan has a crush on Sapphire and is borderline obsessed with her. He used to invade her personal space all the time but over time he has learned to not be an ass. He genuinely cares about her, and wants to win her heart one day. He’d gladly be Remi’s stepfather if both mother and son let him, but Remi doesn’t really like him. Rip. He tries to get Remi to like him, though.

Larke: Older brother of Ronan. Larke is famous for being the fastest of the werewolves. He and his brother Ronan’s late father was also known for his speed. Larke was able to push his own limits and at some point surpassed their father, which is a huge achievement. Larke might not talk much, but he cares a lot for his loved ones. Their father died when Ronan was a toddler and Larke raised him in his father’s stead. Ronan means everything to Larke and the latter would sacrifice anything for his younger brother. Larke is also completely dedicated to werewolf island and he believes that one day the most fulfilling way to die is to give up his life defending his home. For this reason, Larke trains day and night to become even stronger and always strives to overcome his limits. Larke is also wary of the nobles and more or less anticipates a surprise attack from Lukedonia given the nature of their Lord, though he doesn’t say it out loud like Ronan does. His gut feeling tells him that his father’s death had something to do with the nobles despite the lack of evidence.

Larke has a crush on Kameron.

Kenji: No one knows what his origins are. Kenji is one of the werewolves not native to werewolf island. Instead, he came from the outside and joined the clan here to escape his former clan. The clan he was born into was too aggressive and always at internal conflict, and that is not the lifestyle he wants. They were too bloodthirsty and merciless, and it wasn’t uncommon to wake up to a couple of dead bodies lying around soaked in fresh pools of blood. Those bodies would then be kicked around and ultimately dragged away and tossed into the ocean before the stench hit. The werewolves there treated this as normal occurrence. Just another day, no big deal. It’s too much for someone like Kenji. Kenji just wants peace and quiet, which is exactly what Peach’s clan can offer to him. He had heard rumors about Peach’s clan and ultimately left his old clan in search of a new home despite there being richer material resources in his homeland. It’s just not worth it to stay. And he is right. Peach’s clan is more much peaceful and conflicts only go as far as harmless personal drama. Peach listened to Kenji’s story and welcomed him to join their family, and Kenji’s been doing very well ever since. Sometimes Kenji accidentally hurts members of his new clan out of reflex simply because he had to stay on guard to defend himself at all times in his old clan, and that has taken a toll on his mind. His new family is very understanding of him, and tells him it’s okay, they’ll help him together. Kenji tears up every time they’re nice to him. Aww, he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear despite his scary appearance.

Long ago, in his homeland, Kenji had two daughters and a son but they all died from being caught up in the warriors’ internal conflict. Even his partner fell victim to one of the fights there, and Kenji wasn’t able to save them in time. To this day he refuses to get attached to anyone because he doesn’t want to experience loss anymore.

Linden: Son of an unnamed human father and werewolf mother. Linden is quite an oddity among his kind for being half-human. He’s definitely not the only one, but there’s not many of them. Growing up wasn’t easy because his heritage means that his body is a bit different from everyone else’s, and that his parents couldn’t fully grasp how to best raise their son because he is neither werewolf nor human, instead something in between. Linden’s father was one of the very few humans to reside in werewolf island as a permanent “member” of the pack. His parents had a happy, fulfilling life together and his father eventually died of old age and now it’s just Linden and his mother. Linden tries his hardest to adapt to a werewolf lifestyle but he doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of them. He looks like a pureblooded werewolf and acts and thinks like one, but the human blood in his veins would render him unable to keep up with the rest of his peers. His friends are extra careful with him because they’re afraid he might just fall apart if he accidentally trips himself or something. It’s okay, Linden’s tougher than he looks. He insists that they include him on their activities. He’s a bit slow and less strong, but he’ll catch up in a minute. Linden is a joy to be around so everyone likes him, even if he’s not quite at their level.

Linden has a special thing for tea. He likes to forage for leaves and puts them in boiling water to see how they taste. It’s so much fun! He’d take the leaves and dry them, age them, mix them with other ingredients etc. to create a variety of tastes. Though he has to be careful because some things that pureblooded werewolves have natural full immunity to are still dangerous to him. Once he almost went to the other side from drinking something he crafted without checking the contents carefully and his friends were barely able to pull him back from having one foot in the grave. Well, he had no one to check with, he thought he had full immunity just like everyone else! Now he knows. In the present day, the entire werewolf community is watching out for him. Oh my, thank you!

Linden has a crush on Ronan, and Rosemary, and Ruth, and many others. He ends up liking anyone who is nice to him.

Cloudy: Daughter of unnamed werewolves. She got her name from being born on a cloudy day. Cloudy is rather shy, and the only person whom she’s totally comfortable being around is her elderly father. He had Cloudy quite late, so he put all of his attention into her and she grew up rather sheltered. He did most of the talking for her, almost acting as her spokesperson. Cloudy would clutch onto her father’s robes and hide behind him when others approached and only grew out of it in adulthood. Sometimes, out of reflex, she still reaches her hand out expecting to grab onto a piece of cloth for comfort. Oops. She’s doing a great job though. Cloudy has her own group of good friends and they’re very caring with her. Rosemary, Kameron, and Linden are part of this group. Sapphire too if she decides to tag along. They like going to the beaches together and they’d sit on the sand and stargaze while listening to the waves and the gulls. Sometimes they’d also bury Linden until only his head is above the sand. And they’d all laugh together. Cloudy’s father was worried about her and what will happen after he dies because she’s so attached to him, but seeing his girl with her awesome friends has reassured him that she will be just fine after his soul returns to Mother Moon’s embrace.

Cloudy is one of the few if not only werewolf to not eat any meat. Like just no meat at all. This is a very strange thing for a werewolf to do, as the werewolves’ diet had been pretty much meat-only since the beginning of time, only to have evolved into more mixed one as of recently. Still, they’re mostly carnivores. Cloudy’s love of animals is very strong so she doesn’t eat any, as she can’t see them as food no matter how hard she tries. She’s fine with milk and eggs and such, just nothing harvested from an animal’s body. This diet would cause her to not be able to fully channel the strengths of a werewolf, but that’s fine to her since she was never really a fighter on the inside to begin with. Plus, she can just chill with Linden in the back. She can show him her colorful crystal collection and they’ll excitedly chat about where to find more.

Cloudy has a crush on Ruth.

Kameron: Son of unnamed werewolves. Kameron was the product of a short fling between his parents. His mother was a wandering traveler who stumbled upon werewolf island and that’s how she met his father. She left werewolf island and said her permanent goodbyes to her partner and then-toddler son to continue on with her travels, leaving her partner to raise Kameron on his own. Kameron and his father have a great relationship despite their differences in personality. Like his mother, Kameron is easygoing and cheerful. He has a talent for putting up smiles on people’s faces by being funny or making a fool of himself, or both. He always jokes about how Ruth and Rosemary are his long-lost sisters even though that’s clearly not the case. Peach thinks it’s hilarious.

Kameron has a fascination with noble culture. Sure, Lukedonia’s not the greatest place and its inhabitants are a mixed bag, but it’s still so interesting. He wants to know everything about them. What they do for fun, what their jobs are like, how the weather is over there, do they get to control their own weather, how does it feel to read minds, how does it feel to get your minds read, do you even have eating utensils and beds if you don’t need food or sleep, do you pee and poo, why is everyone’s eyes red, blah blah blah… the questions are endless and he is overflowing with excitement and curiosity. Kameron daydreams about picking up a random noble from the streets and just interviewing them all day long, asking questions to his satisfaction. It’s just so cool to be a noble. Kameron likes being a werewolf, of course, he’s just drawn by the unknown. Perhaps he’ll even marry a noble one day, haha. Just kidding, that’s impossible. It’s better to stay at home, he thinks. No way that’s happening.

Kameron has a crush on Larke, though the two of them don’t know that the feeling mutual. Kameron likes to tease Larke and Larke pretends to hate it even though he likes it and wants Kameron to talk to him more. There’s quite some unresolved tension between them and who knows where it’ll go.

Gregory: Father of Sapphire, and grandfather of Remi. Gregory was Peach’s father figure during the latter’s youth. He still is, and Peach relies on him for advice. Gregory is one of the few people whom Peach can truly relax around because he knows that he’ll be treated as a normal werewolf and not Lord of the werewolves, which is what everyone sees him as. Gregory knows that Peach gets tired from being put on a pedestal all the time, and as much as Peach enjoys being in a leadership position, too much is too much. When these two are alone, Peach would jokingly complain to Gregory about how sitting on the cold, hard throne all day just hurts his buttcheeks and even his superior werewolf healing can’t save him. They’d have a laugh about it and talk about family drama and stuff. Though not related by blood, these two are very much family by bond. Gregory’s nickname for blonde werewolf is Peachfuzz. In return, he gets called Grandpa Grumpy. Aww.

At some point the nickname Grandpa Grumpy spread across werewolf island and now most of the pack calls him that instead of his actual name, as an affectionate way of addressing him. He’s fine with it. They all love and respect him for his wisdom, and for that he is grateful.

Gregory does have a real family. He has a daughter named Sapphire who looks just like him. As a father, Gregory feels troubled because Sapphire is too polite and formal with him. He wishes that she can be more casual around him. While Gregory is aware that being reserved is part of Sapphire’s personality, he can’t help but wonder if she will ever let him into her life, even just a bit. What she’s doing, how she’s feeling, what she ate for lunch, what she wants for dinner, did she make new friends… she doesn’t seem to share much. He knows it is possible that she just doesn’t want him to worry, but she’s still his kid and he’s supposed to worry about her. Gregory always lets her know that he is there for her. In a way, Sapphire reminds him of his late partner, who was also distant and private. Other than that, Gregory and Sapphire are a loving family and they have their moments here and there.

Sapphire: Daughter of Gregory, and mother of Remi. Sapphire is quiet and mysterious. While she doesn’t reject being in a social setting, she prefers to sit on the sidelines and doesn’t initiate any sort of interaction unless she’s being interacted with. Rosemary, a good friend of hers, makes sure she’s included in activities. Sapphire would just blush and follow her friend group around. They know she’s not cold, she’s just a little quieter and that’s fine. Everything is normal and time passes by peacefully until one day, Sapphire’s belly starts to grow and she could no longer hide the baby she’s carrying. Gregory and all her friends are shocked. They thought they had her trust, but she never told anyone. They’re surprised because they’ve never seen Sapphire with another werewolf, and that she’s going to be a mother at such a young age. By human standards, she’d be a teen mom. Gregory tries to be gentle and very carefully asks his daughter who the father is, if she doesn’t mind sharing. Sapphire just closes her eyes and silently shakes her head, refusing to answer. It’s alright then, if she doesn’t want to say anything. They’ll help her the best they can.

Everything continues smoothly and the due date neared. This is when tragedy happens. For the first time ever, Sapphire is crying. There had been evidence of an abduction and several werewolves had disappeared. Sapphire’s partner was one of them. Traces pointed to Lukedonia, hinting that this was the deed of nobles, but there was nothing solid enough for them to hold against the nobles. In the end, they couldn’t save him. Or any of them. Sapphire was grief-stricken and refused to eat, almost killing herself and her unborn baby, until Gregory begged and begged for her to please take care of herself and that he cannot lose her. Unwilling to sadden her father, she starts to eat again and her body returns to normal.

Soon, Sapphire gives birth to a son and she names him Remi. Remi will never have a father, but she will try her best to raise him. Sapphire doesn’t really have any hobbies that stand out because she spends most of her time on Remi so she never really gets the chance to explore with her life.

Sapphire is too busy to like anyone. She does have a lot of admirers, many of whom are more than willing to take care of her and Remi as her partner and Remi’s stepfather. Ronan is one of them. Sapphire rejects all of them, but they just keep coming back. Remi shoos them away for her. Maybe one day Sapphire will find love again, but right now she is still mourning her partner who is currently permanently missing with no news of his fate whatsoever.

(Eventually she does find love and has her happily ever after. In the far future she has another child aka Remi’s half-sibling with a nice werewolf guy, when Remi is an adult)

Remi: Son of Sapphire, and grandson of Gregory. Remi is stubborn and tends to react emotionally to things. He thinks this is his fault and blames himself for being temperamental, but in reality he’s just his father’s son. Other than his looks, he doesn’t resemble his mother much. Remi is in a bit of a special situation. Sapphire is his mother, but they’re more like siblings. This is partially due to Sapphire having him at a young age, but mostly due to his grandfather Gregory suggesting that he grows up as his mother’s brother instead of her son. This is to take some stress off Sapphire’s shoulders so she won’t need to be anxious all the time. Originally, Sapphire could’ve raised Remi together with her partner, but that became impossible due to the abduction incident. Raising Remi alone is too much for a young Sapphire, so Gregory stepped up. He doesn’t mind raising his grandson as his son, and tells Sapphire that she can choose to go on and enjoy life as she wishes and leave Remi to him. Whatever she decides, he will be supportive. Sapphire is grateful for her father’s offer, but ultimately decides to be a very involved sister-ish mother in Remi’s life. And that’s that. Their family is a bit special with unconventional dynamics, but still loving nonetheless. Remi calls his mother by her name and his grandfather “Father”. Neither of them minds and they’re quite content with it. Sapphire’s friends also treat Remi as one of them and often ask her if her “brother” wants to tag along for hunting or fishing or something.

Remi’s primary goal in life is to gain power. He wants to grow up to become a strong and wise warrior like his grandfather, and he’s a bit impatient with it, despite being so young and still having lots of time in front of him. Gregory tells him not to worry. Other than that, Remi is rather dense and doesn’t know how to have fun. His friends have to drag him outside or else he’s just training all day.

Remi doesn’t like Ronan and finds him to be creepy. Remi once slapped Ronan across the face when the latter called him “my son”. He knows Ronan has a huge crush on his sister-mom but that’s just going too far. Just… ew. No thanks, bye bye. And stay away from her because she’s not interested!

Remi is too dense to like anyone. (For now)

Zen: Son of unnamed werewolves. Zen is respectful and composed, which are traits that become even more obvious when compared to his best friend Ulrich. Zen is an independent thinker. While he does appreciate Lord Peach and noble Marcus’ efforts to keep the werewolves afloat with extra resources, he believes that the werewolves should gradually wean themselves off the nobles’ help and become truly self-sufficient. It’s not beneficial to rely on outside help and who knows if one day the nobles will come and ask for the werewolves to return the favor since they’ve been “indebted” to them for so long. Zen doesn’t like the idea of his pack having something that can potentially be used against them. In reality, Marcus and his organization would never do such a thing, as they really are altruistic with their good deeds. Still, Zen has a hard time trusting them and he can’t bring himself to let his guard down. Zen has told Peach about his concerns, and the latter has reassured him that his worries will never come to be. Zen thinks otherwise. Peach appreciates Zen’s efforts to watch out for him and their big family, and jokes that he should take a “chill pill”. Zen is not amused.

In his free time, Zen just hangs out with Ulrich. He’s down to do whatever Ulrich is up for. He’s even willing to leave werewolf island and follow his best friend to the ends of the earth if that’s what he wants. That’s how much Ulrich means to him. Sometimes, Zen has dreams where he and Ulrich are in another strange universe where they are not werewolves; instead they are a supernatural race and the dream ends with both of them getting executed by a mysterious winged being. Maybe he’s just too tired, that’s why he’s making up all this crazy shit. But it’s too realistic to be a simple illusion. This gives Zen the chills.

When Ulrich is busy, Zen makes art with chains. He links them one by one. Your average werewolf would find that to be rather boring. Zen thinks it’s therapeutic.

Zen doesn’t have a crush on anyone, though he has a platonic love for Ulrich.

Ulrich: Son of an unnamed half-werewolf mother and werewolf father. Ulrich is mostly pretty tame though he can get fairly angry and jealous when he is upset, where he then tends to lash out at things and people nearby. Probably not the best judgement, because being three-quarters werewolf means that he’s weaker than most of whom he provokes and often ends up getting his regretful ass beaten. Probably deserved it. They didn’t start it, he did, so it’s always his fault. Ulrich would then sulk in the corner with a bloody nose and some bruises and complain to Zen about how the latter is late at comforting him. Zen would just sigh, shake his head, and come over and crouch down with Ulrich and tell him “better not do it next time” as he pats him on the shoulder. Ulrich never listens and he’s definitely doing it again. His one braincell simply never learns. And this cycle continues in an almost comedic manner. Zen is more than capable of defeating Ulrich in a spar at any given moment, but he lets his best friend boss him around without any objections. Ulrich doesn’t even know Zen is just super chill and nice. There’s not another soul in this world who will tolerate his less than favorable attitude and temper without some form of retaliation.

Ulrich is also a bit of a hypocrite. He can hang out others all he wants, but he gets upset when he sees Zen with someone else. He can have many friends, but Zen can only be his friend. His jealousy would cause him to lash out at his best friend at times, but he isn’t actually angry at him. Ulrich just never learned how to properly and calmly express his feelings. Fortunately, Zen accepts all of Ulrich’s flaws and they’re still best friends.

Ulrich has a weird hobby of pulling out his own fangs and fashioning them into necklaces and bracelets. It’s pretty hip, and hey it looks nice. Besides, he’s mostly a werewolf so they’ll grow back in. Ulrich makes Zen wear one of his “diy” necklaces and gets upset when the latter takes it off, so now he has to keep it on the whole time. Zen wouldn’t be surprised is Ulrich is making some pocket money with his unusual jewelry.

Ulrich doesn’t realize, but he too feels platonic love for his best friend. He probably can’t live without Zen.

Thank you for reading and stay tuned for future posts!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #fanart #kori’s blood moon au #previous lord #erga kenesis di raskreia #rozaria elenor #kei ru #rael kertia #razark kertia #ludis mergas #claudia tradio #gejutel k. landegre #seira j. loyard #regis k. landegre #karias blerster #urokai agvain #zarga siriana

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