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alotofpockets · 2 days

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Opposites attract | Katie McCabe x Arsenal!Reader

Where Katie loses her temper during a match and you're on the receiving end of her punch

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

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Arsenal was known for its family dynamic, but even within family’s there were links that didn’t work as well as others. Within Arsenal that was you and Katie, you both worked great with the team, just not always with each other.

Your interactions with each other mostly consisted of professional exchanges, never really meeting outside of football. You of course had many team outings outside of football with the team, but either only one of you attended or you’d stay away from each other at it. The dynamic worked well enough for the team, so everyone just let it be what it was.

The two of you were polar opposites. Katie was outspoken, and fierce. She was often described as an aggressive player, and had a tendency to let her emotions get the best of her on the pitch. You, on the other hand, were more reserved, practical, and strategic. You kept your cool even in the tensest moments.

After Katie got taken down for the fourth time against Tottenham, it was to no surprise to you that she got up and shoved the player that fouled her. You roll your eyes as you run over to aid Kim, who was trying to get in between Katie and Ashleigh Neville. The two of them are now yelling at each other and pointing angry fingers. Poor Kim you thought, as you arrived.

Katie lifts her arm in a punching motion, and you’re quick to grab ahold of her arm and pull it back, “Katie, please calm down.” Katie in all her anger pulls her arm out of your hold only for her elbow to smash into your face. You stumble backwards and instantly reach for your face.

Somehow Katie immediately calms down when she realises that she hurt you. She left Asleigh Neville alone without a second thought and knelt to your side. “Shit, I'm sorry y/n. Are you alright?” You look up at her, “Just piss off, Katie.” She raises her hands and steps aside. The medical team comes to check you out since you were still clutching your face.

“Is it broken?” You ask them as you remove your hand to reveal a bloody nose. The medics get to work on checking it out. Katie steps forward to get to your side, but Steph holds her back “She told you to go away, mate, give her some space.” They worriedly look at your bloody face. “Since when do you care about y/n?” Beth asks when she joins the pair.

With a furrowed brow Katie turns to Beth, “What are you talking about? I've always cared.” Beth snickers, “Well, maybe you should act on that, cause most people think that the two of you hate each other.”

“It's not broken,” You release a sigh of relief. “But your cheek has already started bruising a little, so I'm afraid you will get a black eye.” You look over to Katie and roll your eyes. All of this over a stupid tackle. You let the medical team help you up, and keep a cloth to your nose as they walk you off the field.

Since there was already a bit of swelling in your cheek, they thought it was best to get you subbed off, as you hit the 60 minute mark anyways. You’re still annoyed though, cause you definitely could've played the full 90 minutes if Katie had just stayed calm. You watched the rest of the match on the sidelines with an ice pack held on your face.

Beth’s words lingered on Katie’s mind. Did people really think you hated each other? Did you think she hated you? She was determined to take Beth’s advice and show that she did actually care about you.

You were confused when you heard a knock on your door the next morning, and your confusion grew even more when you realised who was at your door. “Katie, what are you doing here?”

Katie’s focus was on your face, and the black eye that had fully made its way onto your face. “If you’re just going to keep starting, I’m closing the door.” Your words brought Katie back to reality. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I am actually here to apologise for hurting you.” She holds up the small bouquet of flowers for you to take. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to check in to see how you were doing, and tell you how terribly sorry I am for letting things get out of hand, and hurting you in the process.”

You’re a little stunned by Katie’s apologies, never having expected her to do so, and definitely not in a home visit scenario. “Thank you, Katie. I appreciate it, really.” You take the flowers from her. Before you can say anything else, Katie reaches for something else. “I also got you some breakfast. Beth said you loved this place, but I didn’t know what you liked from their menu, so I got a bunch of stuff. I didn’t think just flowers would be enough.”

The gigantic bag of food comes into your line of vision and your eyes widen. “That is food for a whole village.” You step to the side and watch Katie expectantly, “Are you not coming in to help me eat this massive bag of food?”

Katie grins, maybe you didn’t hate her after all. “I’d love to.” She steps inside and follows you to the dinning table where she starts unpacking the various containers. You watch your table get fuller and fuller, “While I appreciate it, you know you didn’t have to do all of this right?” Katie looks up at you with sincere eyes, “I wanted to. I know we tend to have our differences, but I wanted to make sure that you didn’t think I hated you or something.”

You shake your head instantly, “I never thought you did. We’re just polar opposites in our approaches to things, and sometimes those differences don’t click.” Katie sighs in relief before taking a seat. “That’s good to hear, and yeah we can have quite different approaches, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to find a way to work better together.” In agreement you nod your head. “I’d like that.”

As you both start eating, the conversation flows more easily than you expected. You and Katie were usually not in a setting like this, but you had expected awkwardness or tension. Neither one was there, you felt comfortable sharing breakfast with the defender.

Halfway through breakfast you catch Katie staring at your bruise again. “You know staring at it isn’t going to make it heal quicker, right?” Her face instantly turns serious. “I am really sorry about what happened yesterday. I lost my temper and you paid the price. I promise that it won’t happen again.” You smile appreciatively, “Apology accepted. I know you never meant to hurt me, but it did sting a little. Literally.” You eye Katie on the last word of the sentence and the both of you burst out laughing.

Once you’ve calmed down, Katie turns to you. “Maybe you can teach me your ways of always staying calm out on the pitch?” You nod, “I can definitely do that, but only if you teach me how to stand up for myself more on the pitch. I think we could learn from each other and have more of a middle ground, what do you think?” Katie smiles and nobs, “I like that, it’s a deal.”

While your on pitch behaviours aren’t changed instantly, the team noticed an immediate difference in your and Katie’s relationship off the pitch. During training you actually worked together, and outside of football they saw the two of you in the same places for the first time in a long time.

Since that apology breakfast, Katie had come over more often. At first it was just to ‘take care of you’ since she was the reason you were injured, though you kept insisting that you were totally fine. Once the bruise was fully healed, Katie couldn’t use the same excuse anymore, but you were also enjoying her presence so you didn’t need a reason.

It surprised you at first, how much you had in common with the defender, but once you set aside your differences, you and Katie grew closer together quickly.

Then one day after practice Katie approached you. “I know we usually do breakfast, but there is this new restaurant that opened up near my place that I think you would really like. Could I take you there some time, maybe?” Your smile grows, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Katie nervously looks up at you, “Yes, but it could be as just friends if you’d be more into that.” Your smile grows even bigger, “I never imagined I’d see the day when Katie McCabe would be nervous.” You chuckle lightly as a blush creeps up onto her cheeks. “I would love to go on a date with you.” You place a kiss on her cheek, and then turn and walk away. “Pick me up tonight at 6pm?” Katie smiles, “I’ll be there!”

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#katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe imagine #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc imagine #awfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #irewnt #irewnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days

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Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x inexperienced!american!fem!reader

summary: After a brutal critique of a newly displayed art piece in a museum, newly debuted reader finds herself apologizing to the artist who heard her. After multiple meetings, the time they spend together becomes precious to her. One slip up causes Benedict Bridgerton, a know “Rake” amongst the ton, to be left with the decision to marry the young woman or a duel.

This is part one! Here’s part two!

cw: suggestive language

word count: 4k

January 28th, 1817

Your parents sat across from you in the carriage, both sets of eyes on you as you watched all of the scenery pass by in the window. You didn’t want to leave your old life behind, but you felt like you had no choice since you just wanted to please your parents. That was your biggest problem; wanting to please everyone around you so badly that you’d sacrifice your own happiness.

You were set to be debuted the night you had arrived and were a nervous wreck. You had no interest in being married off to a perfect stranger, but you felt like you didn’t have any other choice. Maybe if you played your cards right, though, you’d be Queen’s Charlotte’s diamond of the season.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want everyone’s eyes on you and honestly couldn’t bear to be the talk of the town or worse, a victim of Lady Whistledown’s latest gossip. You wanted absolutely no part in that.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” your mother told you, almost in a mocking tone. She never cared for how reserved you were and was always trying her best to push you into friendships with people you wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot pole.

“Oh, leave her alone, Vivian,” your father nudged her. “She’s allowed to be nervous, this is her debut.”

“Well, I’m not nervous,” your sister, Lilith piped up. Of course she wasn’t. Because Lilith was perfect. The perfect eldest child that your parents seemed to favor over you no matter how close you were to your father.

You didn’t like the feeling, but you envied your sister. She was very outgoing and not to mention beautiful, two things you didn’t think you were even close to being. At least, the outgoing part. You were more reserved and had been laughed at for it your whole life.

I’m sorry, could you speak up? No one can hear you.

You’re not very talkative, are you?

Why don’t you say something?

Those words always lived in your head, and no matter how hard you tried, you always found yourself either speaking too loudly about things you were passionate about or not speaking loud enough. That would have meant that you had to take authority and you knew absolutely nothing about that.

The carriage rolled to a stop and you turned away from the window, rubbing your hands together to remove the sweat from them. You then reached up and subconsciously fiddled with the diamond necklace that your father gave you before you left America. You always wore it and it was something you messed with when you were particular nervous or needed something to stimulate your mind.

The carriage door opened and you were the first to step out, your eyes widening as they took in your new home. It was far bigger than the one you lived in back home and you wondered why that much space was needed for your family of four. The place could have easily fit many families of your size and still have room for more.

You headed inside and briefly took in the main level before making a beeline for the upstairs, desperate to see your new room since that was definitely going to be where you spent most of your time. You had a lot of new books to read and were just looking forward to it having to share with Lilith anymore.

You claimed the first room you walked into which had to be about three times the size of your old one. It was already set up with your new furniture that looked much better than your old stuff. Maybe living there wouldn’t have been so bad.

You collapsed onto your bed and felt your eyes get heavy from the very long journey you had just taken, finding yourself quickly falling asleep right there and not even fighting it. It was what you had deserved for sitting through all of your mother and sister’s comments without a single complaint.

A knock on your door woke you from your nap and you opened your eyes to see your mother standing in the doorway. She had a stern look on her face and you wondered what you had done to upset her now. It seemed like you were always doing that despite your need to please her. She never agreed with the way you spoke or the words you liked to use. She just didn’t like that you were smarter than her.

“Y/n, what are you doing in bed, you’re supposed to be getting ready.” Her voice was more angry than it should have been and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her dramatics. You had plenty of time to get ready since the ball didn’t start for a few hours.

Just then your apparently new lady’s maid hurried into the room with your dress for the evening which you hadn’t even seen yet since your mother had picked it out, but you knew that you were going to hate it since you never saw eye to eye on anything, especially clothing. Your mother stepped into the room and closed to door with every intention of making sure that you actually wore the dress since you always seemed to want to change last minute.

The dress was a shade of green that wasn’t flattering on you in the slightest. Your mother fluffed up the sleeves as she looked at you in the mirror. If you were honest, you hadn’t even wanted to go to the ball, but you felt like you had to. You just wanted to make her happy even if you had to sacrifice your own happiness to do it. She had been so excited for you, but you knew that was just because she was interested in finally getting rid of you for good.

“Well, don’t you look absolutely beautiful,” your father complimented as you descended the stairs. He looked at your mother and gave her a slight glare when she hadn’t said anything to you. Your mother honestly didn’t like the way you looked at all and didn’t feel like she should have lied to you, so she just directed her attention to Lilith like always.

“Y/n, doesn’t your sister look beautiful?” You felt your heart break at hearing those words. How could she say that? Your sister did look beautiful but didn’t you as well? Why were you always second to her? Why did it always feel like it wouldn’t have mattered if you were there or not? Sure, your father cared for you like a parent should have, but it almost felt like he was only behaving that way because he felt bad for you. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

“You do look beautiful, Lilith,” you practically whispered, staring down at the floor. You found it hard to maintain eye contact so you always settled for something else, whether it was the floor or the wall. Just as long as it wasn’t other people’s eyes, it was safe.

“Thank you, y/n,” she nodded. “I suppose you look beautiful too.” Her tone sounded annoyed, almost as if she was forcing herself to say the words. You almost wished she had said nothing, but Lilith always found an excuse to speak, no matter what came out of her mouth. You were convinced that she just loved hearing her own voice.

You said nothing and turned on your heel, keeping your eyes on your feet at you did so. You wiped a tear that had fallen down your cheek and headed towards the carriage that had been waiting for you and your family. You got inside and moved closer to the window, covering your face with your hand so no one could see you crying. Your mother and Lilith would have just told you that you were being dramatic and your father would baby you and you weren’t in the mood for either of those things. You just wanted to get the night over with so you could go to your room and paint. That was the only way you were able to deal with your feelings. You surely couldn’t take them out on your family, so you had to deal with them in healthy way and painting was the only thing that seemed to relax you.

The carriage door opened once again and your father slipped inside, taking the seat next to you. He silently wrapped his arm around you and you rested your head on his shoulder, suddenly having a flashback to crying into that very spot when your mother had said something you hadn’t particularly liked. He was always there when you needed him, the only person in that damn family that even bothered to understand you. He rubbed up and down your arm and you sniffled, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. That was all he always said when the cycle would repeat itself and even though it was nice that he was making an effort to make you feel better, you didn’t appreciate that he never stood up to your mother or your sister even. He didn’t defend them, but he definitely didn’t put a stop to their behavior either. Because to his core, your father was nothing but a coward. He’d rather just comfort you in secret instead of actually doing something useful. His words were becoming pointless and you were beginning to not believe them anymore. After all, they were only said to stop your tears, not because they had any actual meaning.

“It’s okay,” you nodded, leaning up to look up at him. The look on his face seemed apologetic at first glance, but you knew it was nothing but fake. Just a way to stop the waterworks so you could all be a “happy” family again.

Your mother and Lilith sat on the other side of the carriage and it rolled onto the path to take you all to the ball. The silence between the four of you was deafening and despite you looking out the window, you could feel your mother’s eyes on you. You could tell she was glaring at you, but you honestly couldn’t have cared less. She could be mad at you all she wanted, it was always going to be because you were just being yourself and not an exact replica of her like your sister was. You had tried so hard to be like her, but eventually you got tired of it and your mother couldn’t stand having a daughter that liked things that she didn’t. God forbid you had your own interests.

You swore that she was going to make a snide comment, but she kept quiet. You kind of preferred her speaking over the quiet, because at least then, you’d have something to focus on so all of your thoughts in your brain would mute a little bit. Anytime there was any silence or when you were alone, all of your anxieties would amplify to the point where you could barely think. You always needed some sort of distraction to keep you sane.

The four of you planted your fakest smiles onto your faces and entered the ball that Lady Bridgerton happened to be hosting, trying your best to look like you hadn’t just had the most tense carriage ride in history. That was all going to be left behind and you all had to act like you actually loved each other. Easier said than done.

You slowly distanced yourself from your family before placing yourself by the nearest wall. You definitely weren’t going to speak to any suitors and most definitely weren’t going to dance with any of them either. That was all Lilith. You were sure she was going to end up engaged by the end of the night and you’d be alone just like always, but that was how you liked it.

“That is a lovely dress.” You turned to your left to see the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She had lovely brown skin and her pink dress complimented it beautifully. Her hair was put up in an elegant updo and you hoped that someday, you’d look half as pretty as she did. You looked around to see who she was speaking to and realized that you were the only one around.

“My apologies,” she smiled. “Viscountess Bridgerton, but you can call me Kate. And who might you be?” Bridgerton? So that must have been Anthony’s wife that Francesca had told you about in her letters when the two had tied the knot a few years ago. She was even more beautiful than she was described. You turned back to the woman in front of you and remembered that she had asked you a question. What was it? Oh right, your name. What was that again?

“I’m y/n,” you told her as your eyes moved to decorations that were on the wall a few feet behind her. Kate nodded, a smile on her face, thinking that you were nothing but adorable and found that you reminded her of her little sister, Edwina. And because of that, she felt the need to help you out. To protect you. She didn’t know you, but she wanted to help you find the perfect match.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Miss y/n,” she smiled wide and for whatever reason, it made you feel better. For once, talking to someone didn’t feel like a chore and it seemed like Kate was genuinely interested in having a conversation with you and not doing it just because she had to. She could see the anxiety and nervousness in your eyes and just wanted to help you out, to let you know that you had a friend. Someone who would make you feel less alone.

“You too,” you nodded and she gestured to the refreshment table with her hand.

“Would you like to get a drink?” All you could do was nod and she led you in that direction, greeting people on her way as she did so. Kate carried herself with such confidence that you were mesmerized by. You had confidence, but not in that way. You could have never just walked up to a stranger like she did and introduced yourself. That was a terrifying thought to you and the way she did it without a second thought was fascinating.

Kate grabbed a cup filled with lemonade and handed it to you before taking one for herself. You took a sip then looked around the room, your eyes catching on a familiar face. The gentleman made his way over to you, a wide smile on his face as he engulfed you in a hug.

“I see you’ve met the troublemaker,” Anthony winked at you and you felt yourself blush. It was a nickname the boys had created for you since you had been anything but a troublemaker. They just always liked to tease you as if they were your own brothers.

“Oh, have I?” Kate let out a laugh as Anthony draped an arm over her shoulder. They seemed to be just as in love as Francesca had said.

“It’s what we used to call her when she was little because she’s the exact opposite of trouble.” He was laughing a little too hard and your cheeks were flushing in embarrassment. Kate nudged Anthony once she caught sight of the embarrassed look in your face.

Looking at Anthony, all of the memories you had of him came flooding back. He was always there for you when you got hurt, acting as an honorary big brother when something went wrong. You honestly missed him and hated that you had been from him and his family for so long.

Benedict stood by the entrance of the building with his mother, Violet. He honestly had no interest in being there, but he couldn’t say no to his mother. Other than Gregory, he was the only Bridgerton son who hadn’t been married and even though he had expressed no interest in it, he still wanted to keep his mother happy by attending the balls.

If he had it his way, he’d be at the studio with one of the women he had been sleeping with or working on his piece for the gallery that was supposed to happen in a few weeks. He had barely even started it and probably would have been at least halfway through it if he hadn’t agreed to come to the ball that night That was his priority at the moment, not finding a wife like his mother had so desperately wanted him to do.

He locked eyes on you talking with Kate and Anthony and figured that you must have been one of the new debutants since he hadn’t seen you before. At least, he didn’t think he had. He would have remembered a beautiful woman like you. His brother seemed to be talking you like you were old friends so he wondered just who you were.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Violet leaned over to him as she noticed Benedict watching you. Had he been staring? He swore he had only just glanced.

“Mother-“ He agreed to showing up, but he never said anything about dancing. He just liked to observe. And he wanted to observe you.

“Benedict.” Her voice was filled with warning and even at his age, he was still kind of afraid to disappoint her, even though he had done that enough already. He couldn’t do it again.

“Alright,” he sighed. “I’ll dance with her.” He turned to his smiling mother then made his way towards you, putting on his signature smile that always made women fall to his feet. He absolutely loved seeing the way they would do whatever he asked as soon as he gave them a flash of his teeth. He wondered if you would do the same.

The conversation halted as Benedict stood behind you. You turned around and your eyes widened as you caught sight of the man. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You wondered what he wanted from you and began to fiddle with your necklace again, assuming that he was possibly going to ask you to dance. You were going to say no, of course. You couldn’t dance with anyone. You would just look weird and awkward and be too aware of your movements. You honestly weren’t even sure if you knew the correct steps.

“Benedict,” Anthony greeted his brother. That was Benedict? You supposed it made sense since you hadn’t seen him in eight years. He had gotten so much taller than you now, the top of your head coming to his chin. And he was attractive. Much more so than you remembered.

“Anthony, Kate,” he nodded in their direction then averted his gaze to you, a smirk kicking up at the corner of his lips. Anthony knew exactly what his brother was doing. He could see the flirty look in his eyes and was going to shut whatever was going on down as soon as possible.

He had seen to many women hurt by Benedict and he wasn’t going to let you be one of them. Anthony didn’t know you, but what he did know was that you were definitely out of his league. You were sweet and kind and Benedict was nothing but a jackass. Anthony wasn’t going to let your heart get broken by his stupid brother who never seemed to be able to keep his dick in his pants.

“And you are?” He didn’t remember you? You supposed that eight years was enough time to forget about someone, but you honestly thought he would have remembered you just like Anthony had. And you had spent much more time with Benedict when you were children so you didn’t know why the memories of your weren’t clicking in his brain.

“Benedict, this is y/n,” Anthony reminded him as if it was something that Benedict should have known, but that name was not ringing any bells whatsoever.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss y/n,” he greeted, his tone more professional but still a little flirty. “Would you like to dance?” He held his hand out to you and you stared at it, knowing that if you didn’t, your mother would find out and give you a lecture, but if you did, all of three steps would mix together in your head and you’d fall flat on the floor and everyone would laugh at you.

You nodded and hesitantly put your hand in his, letting him lead you out onto the floor, looking back to Kate and Anthony, hoping that they would save you, but they just gave you warm smiles as you got further and further away from him.

Benedict stopped to the far left of the floor and rested a hand on your shoulder blade while the other took your hand. You turned your head to the side, looking around the room and he looked down at you, realizing that you had no idea what you were doing and decided that he was going to have to teach you how to do the dance.

He took your other hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving you a reassuring smile even though you weren’t paying attention. You were still looking around the room, nervousness obvious in your eyes. Weren’t you just a shy, little thing. He could have taught you so many things, but tonight, he’d stick with the waltz.

He leaned down so his lips were right by your ear and your breath hitched at his closeness. His hot breath on your skin as he whispered to you. No man had ever been that close to you and it was making you nervous.

“Just follow my lead, I’ve got you.” He leaned back up and watched you turn your face back to him, giving him a small nod. He smiled down at you as the dance began. You moved around the floor, Benedict taking the lead, looking down at you to make sure that you were okay as he did so. All he was focused on was you. It was as if nothing else in the room mattered and he had no idea why he was so captivated by you.

He didn’t know why you were so nervous. You were a natural when it came to the waltz. And he liked watching you move along with him, seeing your dress move back and forth, wanting to run his hands up your thighs as he spread them apart, watching you come undone as he buried his head between them, licking and sucking as you grabbed onto his hair. And he’d make sure he could see your head being thrown back, hearing the delicious moans fall from your lips.

He wanted so badly to remove your dress so slowly, hearing you beg for him because he wasn’t moving fast enough. Whining his name as he took off your under garments as slowly as possible, kissing every single inch of your body as he bent you over the nearest surface he could find, pounding into you as he told you what a good little slut you were.

You both continued to move around the room gracefully and you were avoiding his eye contact still, his hazel ones boring into you, a smirk kicking up at the corner of his lips as he watched you. Benedict knew he’d have to dance with you more than once to hopefully bring you out of his shell. You’d definitely be a different person by the time he was done with you.

The dance finished and Benedict brought you back over to Anthony and Kate, not wanting your time together to end, but knowing that he had to dance with the other debutants to please Violet. He bowed before you and you gave him a curtesy as he bid you a goodbye.

“It was a pleasure, Miss l/n,” he said once he stood back up.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr, Bridgerton,” you smiled shyly and the man swore he was going to melt. Benedict knew that you had meant the words in the most innocent sense, but his cock, definitely didn’t. There was no hint of flirting in your tone, but he was going to pretend that there was. That the attraction wasn’t one sided.

And you had to be attracted to him, right? He knew when a woman had fancied him, but for some reason, he couldn’t get a read on you. You were going to be a tough one to crack. He’d have to spend more time with you to figure you out.

Even after he had moved on to other debutants, his mind wouldn’t leave you. He wanted to do the most filthiest things to you and knowing that you were most likely a virgin made it even more exciting. Knowing that you could have been his first sent a rush up his spine.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. Considering how protective Anthony had been of you, Benedict wasn’t looking to get killed, especially not over a woman. So, after he finished the dance, he left the ball, on the hunt for someone to hook up with since anything with you was definitely off the table.

You spent practically the entire night with Anthony and Kate and for the first time, you felt like you had real friends. They both seemed interested in what you had to say and didn’t treat you like a child just because you were young. And they were respectful of your soft spoken voice, neither of them asking you to speak up or telling you that they couldn’t hear you.

You entered your bedroom with a smile on your face and got ready for bed, thinking about the new friends you had made and that you actually had a good time at the ball despite not thinking that you would. You laid down thinking that maybe, just maybe you’d actually like it there.

#Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton fluff

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miley1442111 · 2 days

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the joys of a workplace relationship- s.reid

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summary: a new addition to the team causes some very strange conversations to be had- and a very embarrassing moment for both spencer, and you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem! marine! reader

warnings: nothing lol

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You and Spencer hadn’t been dating that long. It had been what? 2 years? About 2 years. You weren’t sure. You knew you hadn’t had your third anniversary yet, that’s for sure. Your relationship was good, you two loved each other, he complained about not seeing you because of deployments, you complained about not seeing him because of cases., but it always usually worked out. Somehow, you’d see each other. And now? You’d see each other everyday, without fail.

You were joining the BAU.

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“We have a new agent coming in,” Aaron announced, and faces were a mix of puzzled, excited, or confused.

“Are they a woman? We really need some more women on this team,” Penelope sighed. Elle and Jj nodded their heads agreeing as Derek laughed.

“She is a woman and she’s from the Navy, but special ops-”

“So she’s dangerous,” Elle smirked. “I like her already.”

“Well, it seems I’ve found her,” Jason nodded his head to the window, where all of them crowded to see the new girl. Spencer didn’t bother, too busy thinking about the case, and the fact that he wouldn’t be home tonight even though you’d just come back from a deployment yesterday evening.

“She’s pretty!” Penelope squealed. “Spencer come look, maybe we can set you up!”

“For the last time Pen, I have a girlfriend-”

“Yeah, one that you never let us meet or see because she’s ‘in the navy’ or ‘busy’,” Elle scoffed, a small chuckle leaving most of their mouths as Spencer rolled his eyes.

“But she is busy! And in the navy,” he tried, but it was just digging him a deeper hole while the team laughed at him. He stood up and looked at the window and his heart stopped. There you were, go-bag (which Spencer recognised as one of your old navy bags) in hand and a black shirt that showed a lot of the tattoos on your left arm. Spencer felt his mouth water as he watched you walk around with one of the other agents from the floor as he gave you a tour.

You were here. Standing in his office.

Were you joining the BAU?

“She is pretty,” he smiled and Penelope hit him on the chest.

“You have a girlfriend!” She gasped as she started backing Spencer practically into a wall as the team watched on and laughed “You cannot go around calling other women beautiful-” “No Penelope-” “That is just disgusting and gross-” “Penelope-” “Ugh you are such a man! It’s disgusting -”

“Hi,” you smiled, standing at the door. Penelope stopped and turned to you, a big smile on her face. “Hi, I’m Penelope! Nice to meet you,” she held out her hand to be shook and you took it.

“I’m Y/n,” you explained. “Captain Y/n Y/l/n.”

Heads turned to Spencer, his girlfriend’s name was supposedly Y/n. His girlfriend was supposedly a captain, and became one in only 7 years. The youngest there had ever been.

“Welcome to the team,” Elle smiled. “Elle Greenaway.”

“Derek Morgan,” Derek smiled, taking your hand to shake.

“Obviously you’ve met me over the phone,” Aaron muttered.

“Jason Gideon,” Jason smiled, giving you a salute.

“Jennifer Jareou, but everyone calls me Jj,” she smiled.

“And that over there, is-”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, I’m well acquainted,” you smiled.

Spencer was still standing in the corner of the room, a proud smile on his face as the team slowly connected the dots.

“Wait so she’s real?” Derek practically squealed.

You chuckled as a thousand questions poured in about your relationship, but you just sat and listened to them as Spencer went bright red.

“Please stop asking such invasive questions guys-” Spencer tried but he was drowned out in a sea of voices.

“Settle down,” Aaron called. “We have a case. Obviously this isn’t your first profiling case, right Y/n?”

“No, it’s not my first,” you nodded.

As the briefing went on, you felt Spencer’s hand creep onto your lap. You didn’t mind, you liked having him close, but he was getting a little… work inappropriate. You brushed his hand off and continued the briefing.

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

“What was your callsign?” Jason asked out of the blue as you all walked onto the plane.

“Sailfish, sir,” you said, your naval manners bled into your life everyday, including calling people of authority ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’.

“That’s so cool, why?”

“I was the fastest flyer,” you shrugged, sitting beside Spencer. His arm immediately wrapped around you, and he pulled you into him, kissing the crown of your head as he read his book.

You and Spencer had been together long enough that you both knew each other's love language. Spencer’s was physical touch whereas yours was quality time and words of affirmation. You didn’t like PDA at the beginning of your relationship, but you'd grown to not mind it when Spencer wanted to be close in public.

“How was the trip back?” He whispered. You felt all eyes on the both of you and he mustn’t have noticed, or else he would’ve let go.

“It was fine, Scratch and Patches were fucking fighting the entire way back,” you sighed. Two of your friends, callsigns Scratch and Patches, had just started dating and recent weeks and god were they annoying.

“They finally go together then?” He asked, engrossed in his book.

“Not for fucking long,” you mummbled. “How long is the flight?”

“We have about 5 hours, do you want to sleep?”

“Yeah, I might just nap for a while.”

“Alright, I love you, sleep well,”

“Love you too,” you yawned and quickly fell asleep. Soon, all of the team were crowding around you two, questions ready to ask, and Aaron ready to have an awkward conversation.

“She’s really cool, how in god’s name did you pull her?” Derek asked as Spencer chuckled, running a hand through your hair as you slept. In your sleep, you had a habit of pulling away from Spencer, so Spencer usually kept an arm around you at all times.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “We just… got together I guess.”

“Spencer, I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news but… the PDA stuff should probably be taken down,” Jj said, Aaron behind her with a look of pleading.

“And there’s paperwork for you both to sign,” he added.

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, confused. Why would he need to tone it down?

“There’s rules and regulations against agents being together, Strauss would kill you both of you broke them,” Jj explained.

“It’s not like I’m always touching her,” he rolled his eyes as the team stared on.

“Well-” Derek started, but Elle hit him in the shoulder.

“What?” Spencer asked.

“You don’t exact;y keep your hands to yourself, is all I’m saying,” he said, then walked off with Elle, Jj, and Gideon behind him.

“Just… tone it down, please?” Aaron added, and Spencer nodded, much more to think about than before. Aaron walked off and back to his seat.

“Well that was deeply embarrassing,” you whispered from your spot against his chest.

“Yes, yes it was,” Spencer sighed. “I guess I’ll just… tone it down then.”

“At work,” you added. “But at home you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he admitted.

“I’m glad I’m here too.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, then you pulled your body off of his and sat in your own seat to nap, thus the joys of workplace relationships began.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #bau team #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds

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ilylovelyz · 2 days

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Please do literally anything with Kenma I’m obsessed with him rn

⍣ ೋ how they fell in love

˚ · . kenma kozume & oikawa torū

kenma kozume — because you made him an apple pie. it seems silly, yeah–but that's truly what made him began developing feelings with you. not because of the many hours you spent playing with him in silence, talking to basically yourself as he was too shy to respond to a female. not because you gave him your very detailed and simplfied notes you made specifically for him because you knew that he's be too tired out of his mind from the winning-streak he did last night to pay attention today. no, it was because you made him an apple pie, something he only mentioned once in passing.

"hey ken.." you cheekily say, a large grin written across your face. kenma looks up from his nitendo, eyes greeting you silently before they move back to his screen. "wow! such a greeting!" you tease, despite being ignored so blatantly, you couldn't help but giggle at his intense expression that he sports while playing.

you feign a sigh, your hand coming up to tap at his wrist, earning a surprised flinch from the blonde. his hand quickly pulls away, allowing you to take advantage of the opening he gave you and snatch his nitendo from his other hand. "y/l/n-san.. what are you doing..?" he groans out, his hands trying to reach over the desk to steal back his game.

to anyone else, it looks like he hates you. maybe he does–, but to you, that's just the way he speaks. "oh please, you can spare a minute or two." with that, you're smiling greatly at him and suddenly pulling out a black container, setting it on top of his desk. "ta da~!" you laugh, your hands laying on top of your knees anxiously.

his cat-like eyes glance up at your own, confused, he just sits there. you dart your eyes back up to him and to the container, hoping that he'll get the message to open it. it seems to work, "...you wan't me to open it?" you roll your eyes at his response, "noooo, it's just gonna stay on your desk for all eternity.. jeez—just open it already!" kenma jumps at your raised tone, rushing to open the container in hopes of settling you down.

he blinks down at the contents inside the container, his hands resting on the edges. "this is.. apple pie..? for me?" he asks, his tone more soft onces he realizes. "i made it, for you." you smile, urging him on to taste it. "here," you lift a the pink fork on the inside, slicing the apple pie and lifting it up, only stopping in front of kenma's mouth.

he glances up at you once more, his eyes training onto the piece of apple pie. it does look yummy... finally, he moves forward and takes the bite into his mouth, chewing it slowly to inspect it. you watch him closely, watching for any reactions.

with a swallow, he sits there, his eyes looking elsewhere. "it was good," he admits, earning a content laugh from you. before you could ask him anything else, you heard the call of your name. you follow the voice, seeing that it's your friend standing in the doorway. she calls for you, wanting you to come with her.

"enjoy it, kenma-chan," you say, giving him back his console and walking away. kenma stares at you blankly, still holding the fork in his hand as he watches you leave the classroom. his eyes glance back at the miniature apple pie, sighing softly. he digs his fork in for another piece. he's glad you left, that you didn't see him blush so much when he took the first bite of the best apple pie he's had in awhile.

oikawa torū — because you stood out from the others and stood your ground. despite the two of you not dating or talking, you were still running the "relationship". he thought because of his looks, you'd easily give in like the rest of them, fall to your knees and end up heartbroken when he'd leave. but no, you made him work for it–for you. hell, he couldn't even tell if you liked him back. he didn't even realize it, but he was chasing you around like some lovesick puppy, following your orders and looking up at you like you were some goddess. he finally realized it when you called him out for it, and even then, it made his heart pound in his chest for you.

oikawa watches with those pretty brown eyes of his, they reflect of his target, you. he chews on his pretty lips, ripping the skin of their delicate flesh. his features, oh his pretty features, once so relaxed and perfect, are now scrunched up into a face of worry and fear.

he watches you, his eyes occasionally darting to the random guy next to you whenever he talks to you once more. in this moment, oikawa wishes so bad he was in your proximity, he wants to hear what the stranger is saying to you. is he flirting with you? is he asking for your number? maybe he's a family member. no, wait, no family member would move close to you like that.. no, no family member would wrap their arm around your shoulder!?

oikawa leaves the court, running hurriedly to where you sit. he ignores that the game is about to start, and that he hasn't even stretched yet. he makes his way up the bleachers, hastely walking towards you. but it seems your attention isn't even on him, it's on the guy next to you instead. or is it? from what he sees, it is. but really, you're just letting the scene in front of you play, it's cute to see oikawa this way about you.

"y/n-chan." he says, trying to make his voice sound as stern as possible. you feign a giggle at the guy next to you, pretending to not hear oikawa to bait him even further. it works, as before you can react he's wrapping his hand around your wrist and pulling you up from your seat and down the bleachers, practically dragging you out of the gym.

you hold back a menacing laugh as oikawa pushes you against the wall of the gym, seeing the hurt and fear on his handsome face. "y/n-chan, who was that? why'd you ignore me?" he asks, his lips pulled downwards into a frown. he cups both of your hands into his own, holding them tightly. "huh? what are you talkin' about? i didn't even know you were there." you say, acting dumb about the whole situation.

"yes you–, y/n-chan who was that guy?!" he whines, desperate to know the answer. his whining is cut short when you snap back your hands from him, lightly pushing him away from you. "why do you care? we aren't even dating." your voice is feigned with annoyance, your arms crossed upon your chest.

his heart drops at the realization. right.. the two of you aren't even a thing. his eyebrows furrow at the thought, he thought, just like the rest, you'd be the one to ask him out, not the other way around. if the two of you aren't even a thing, then why does he care? much to his own expectations, he doesn't even know.

he sighs deeply in defeat, his hand subconsciously moving towards yours. his eyes are glued to the ground, lips stuck into a thin line. you try not to let it show, but it breaks through, your laugh just escapes through your throat, confusing the already upset oikawa. "what's so funny?" he asks, his eyes wide at your sudden outburst. "haha–it's–it's, really nothing, heh–, you're so cute, toru," you struggle to say, emphasizing the use of his first name, he's begged you to call him by his first name, but you've just never done that.

his heart fluters at the use of his name, blush coating his cheeks so nicely. cute? "oh.. oh, were you messing with me?" he asks timidly, his hand coming up to scratch at his nape. oikawa lightly scoffs when you nod, still laughing at your own cruel joke.

finally, with a last chuckle, you nod your head, smiling mischievously at him. "so then.. who was that guy?" he asks, feeling more confident within himself. you shrug your shoulders, "a friend i paid $5 to act like he was flirting with me."

oh. oikawa sheepishly backs away, his face painted a light color of pink. he feels his phone vibrate, probably a text from iwaizumi calling to see where he's at. just as he takes out his phone and is about to open it, you're pushing yourself forward, your hands planting themselves flat on his chest as you get onto your tippy toes to give a longing kiss onto the apples of his cheeks.

"good luck," you say cheekily, returning flat onto your feet and walking away from the dazed oikawa. he can only turn his head to watch as you walk back into the gym, his cheek tingling in the spot where you kissed him. god, you just have him wrapped around your finger.

please like and repost with tags

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #oikawa torū #haikyuu oikawa toru #oikawa smut #oikawa toru x reader #kenma fluff #haikyuu kenma #kenma x reader smut

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heliza24 · 1 day

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Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out.

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*.

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent. The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”.

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back.

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.) If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

#iwtv #my meta #interview with the vampire #i know this is long but I hope people do read and talk to me about it bc I find it fascinating #loumand #devil's minion #daniel molloy #louis de pointe du lac #armand

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sinnabum45 · 18 hours

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Wright family 💕

[Image description: gray tone digital comic of Ace Attorney characters, Phoenix Wright and Trucy Wright. Page one: Trucy is 8 years old and she peaks into the kitchen to see Phonix slumped over the table with alcohol around him. He is crying and she watches from behind the wall. She moves away and starts crying, too. Text: “Daddy… Daddy is sad again…” Page two: Trucy looks up and clenches her fist with a determined look on her face. Text: “ I have to help Daddy become happy again! I will help daddy, then he won’t leave me!” She silently cheers with her arms up. Time passes and Trucy is fourteen. She is holding a wine bottle that Phoenix had hidden. Page three: Trucy looks at the bottle with sadness while Phoenix looks away feeling guilty. There are double boxes for the texts: “I’m sorry… I’m not good enough.” Page four: the comic is now fully colored. Time passes and Phoenix is putting his attorney’s badge onto his suit. Trucy is looking at him smiling. Phoenix turns to her and smiles back. Page five: Trucy hugs Phoenix with tears in her eyes. Phoenix hugs her back and is now crying. He says,” I’m sorry, Trucy… Daddy’s put you through a lot.” Page six: Phoenix and Trucy and smiling at each other with tears in their eyes. There are double bubbles with texts: “I love you.” End description.]

Links to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

I have a lot of thoughts about the Wright family. Especially Trucy's experience being adopted suddenly after her father abandons her. I wanted to go into more detail about how the events in her life might have affect her, but that would've been very long-- I rarely see anyone bring it up (I could just not be seeing them of course). Her father abandoning her, then having to move in with a stranger (at first), then having to also live with and depend on Phoenix, who is struggling with his mental and physical health, and also being used by Kristoph and her adoptive dad in a way (making her turn in falsified evidence, help cheat for gambling, etc.). Also the fact that her mother disappeared and her bio dad literally getting murdered. There's so much more that happens to Trucy like-- BRUH give her a break 😭 I just feel like maybe these reasons are why she comes off like she has to shoulder a lot of responsibilities even though she is a child. She kind of takes on the parental role of scolding Phoenix when he drinks.

Of course, I don't blame Phoenix for struggling since he was also going through shit. I just also feel for Trucy as well 😢 Not every family is perfect, which is why I like how their family is portrayed! Even though they're struggling, they still know that they love each other and can depend on each other. It's still not fair to Trucy that she has to live/deal with the adults around her's mistakes and choices. I feel like she has a lot of trauma to unpack and heal from. I think that's also important to remember as well. Phoenix may not have been the best dad, but he tries and they love each other so much 😭🤲💕💕 I just love their dynamic. Especially how quick Phoenix just jumps into the father role 🥺

#ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #phoenix wright #trucy wright #wright family #art #digital art #my art #fanart #SinnaArt #reblogging is okay!#I hope my thoughts were articulated well enough--

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ckhaine · 7 hours

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❝ ENFERMER

pairings　jungkook x reader genres　 light angst + fluff + mentioned smut

ENFERMER where you and your boyfriend harbour silent treatment for two days due to a fight, yet jeongguk's got his special ways of apologizing.

warnings　vulgar language, mentions of sex, short argument, ? degradation (he calls her a bitch and brat once), bamie 🫶🏼, very cutesy stuff at the end yayahrbfhb - maybe some grammar issues sorry !

𝑐𝑘 𓃭　festa yomyom. said i was gon take a break from posting however i lied. uhhh this has been ROTTING in my drafts so im js posting it to get it outta my way :)) ok byebye enjoy reading my loves.

you’re so tired and you miss jungkook more than anything . . even though you can clearly see him from where you’re sitting on the couch. watching him make dinner. quietly taking in the sight of his back, you quickly look away once he turns around.

it’s been two days since you two had an argument. although, both of you are still pissed the more time passes without being held in each other’s embrace. not to add the uncomfortable silent treatment you are—again—both equally giving.

your hand reaches out to gently massage bam’s ears, who then peels open his sleepy, big, gray eyes. “bamieee,” you call softly, patting your thigh for him to come over. he does so, stretched out by your leg with his small head leaning against your thigh.

meanwhile, jungkook finishes up cooking. neatly serving the food within the baby pink, cat-themed bowl he’d bought for you a while back and walks towards your lying figure. “eat, y/n.” he sets the bowl on the coffee table, just standing there.

you can see his tongue poking against his cheek, jaw clenched as he keeps staring.

“is there something you wanna say?” you ask with furrowed brows, giving him the same attitude you’ve had for the past few days. “yeah. i want you t’quit being a fucking bitch and talk to me,” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

you roll your eyes like a lil child, your lips pressed together in a thin line as you resort your graze to the tv. “who even are you? gosh. just for calling me a “bitch”, i’m not talking to you,” you state, hurt bleeding into your words.

jungkook scoffs, a smirk on his lips to avoid going batshit. “now, if you weren’t such a brat, then maybe i wouldn’t have called you one. ever think ‘bout that?” he sighs, features falling as he sits beside you, looking at you with those ample, round eyes.

“c’mon, baby. talk to me,” he pleads, a hand caressing your soft hair. “i acted like a child . . very immature ‘n i shouldn’t have said or done the things that i did. forgive me.” he sighs. “y’know, we’re gonna deal with stuff like this when we get married . .” jungkook quietly adds in his desired future.

fuck, he’s cute.

how could you be mad at him, seriously? guilt is written all over his face, like he’s taking the blame for every little thing that happened within the few days of the visit to hell.

you sigh, lightly shaking your head and leaning into his touch. “it’s not all your fault, gguk. i’m sorry too, y’know. i shouldn’t have reacted the way i did and-and i should’ve talked to you instead of ignoring you,” you stutter.

his heart thumps against his rib cage, a driven pout on his lips. “i love you, amour,” jungkook says softly, shifting to wrap his arms around your torso, a hand on your upper back. “i love you too,” you murmur, nuzzling into his neck — getting the yummy whiff of his clean scent.

safe to say the day ended with lots and lots of cuddling, giggles, training the lil baby bam, sweet nothings, and some good make-up sex.

ah, jeongguk and his ways of locking himself inside your heart.

#ckhaine 𓃭 #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #bts fction #bts imagine #jungkook x reader #jjk x you #jungkook x you #jjk x reader #jungkook fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst

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emjee · 3 days

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hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

#fic #mine #steve rogers #captain america #wip #mg says stuff #fixed the typos thank u augacity #best friend for this very reason

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callsign-rogueone · 2 days

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liam's lesson

bf! Xaden x reader x Liam Xaden decides to give Liam a lesson in pleasing a woman, but not just any woman; you, his girlfriend, who Liam's had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong? words: 5.3k (now officially my longest fic ever!) 🏷: NSFW, afab reader who is referred to with she/her prns and as a "girl", established relationship with Xaden, Liam has a puppy crush on you (we love pathetic, lovesick Liam in this house!), nothing between the boys, they're both just focused on you, fucking someone other than your partner (not cheating, as everyone involved is consenting) while said partner watches, maybe you're a little bit in love with Liam (aren't we all?) Xaden is in charge here, teaching Liam how to make you cum. oral, fingering, and penetrative sex (all f recieving), unprotected sex, very brief misuse of Xaden's shadows, Xaden is the king of Tyrrendor but Liam is the king of aftercare. I think that's everything. once again, proofread with a migraine so be nice. okay byeee

Admittedly, Liam had been a little nervous when Xaden had pulled him aside at dinner and told him to come over to his room around ten to talk — what secret, urgent revolution stuff did they need to discuss? Was something wrong back home? Surely he wouldn’t have waited if that was the case.

He knocks hesitantly, and the door unlocks for him — part of Xaden’s magic that Liam still isn’t used to. A lot has changed about his older brother in the two years they’ve been apart.

He starts to ask why Xaden wanted to see him at this hour, but then he catches a flash of pale blue in his periphery, his head turning toward the other side of the room, where he sees you stretched out on Xaden’s bed in your pajamas — which don’t leave much to the imagination.

He stops mid-sentence and whirls around, averting his eyes. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“Did you forget about the little conversation we had last week?” Xaden asks, amused.

It takes Liam a minute to realize what the older boy is referring to. “You were serious?”

He catches a glimpse of the lace-clad curve of your hip in the mirror in front of him, shutting his eyes tightly and willing himself not to get hard — not over his brother’s girlfriend. That’s definitely crossing a line.

“Of course I was serious,” Xaden answers.

“And you’re… you’re okay with this?” he asks you, still not convinced he isn’t dreaming.

“You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” you answer.

He still looks hesitant. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Liam nervous, but his normal confident and happy demeanor is nowhere to be seen. It hurts, somehow.

“Hey,” you soothe, sitting up straight, “if you don’t want to do this, that’s okay. We’ll never speak of it again.”

“No,” he answers, finally looking at you in the mirror, swallowing hard, “I do want to.”

It might ruin him forever, but he really does want this. He’s wanted something with you for ages, and if he can’t have the real thing — his lips on yours and his hands on your body, pleasing and worshiping you the way you deserve — he might as well watch Xaden do it instead.

“Okay, then.”

Xaden wastes no time pulling you into a deep kiss that you melt into almost instantly — so his dominance and control extends into the bedroom, too. That should have been obvious.

He pulls back after what feels like ages for Liam but mere seconds for you, and you whine softly, needing more.

“Hear that? That’s the sound you’re looking for. Those little whimpers, and the squirming. You want to get her nice and needy first.”

Liam nods, still just watching, unsure what his role will be in all of this. He tries to ignore the ache of his cock, tries not to think about it, but the sight of you in those tiny silk pajamas, if you could call them that, is impossible to look away from, and impossible not to get turned on by. He’ll definitely need to sort himself out after this is over, but at least it’ll fill the spank bank forever — he’s never going to forget this.

“Go ahead,” Xaden prods, and Liam feels like he might faint — this is a hands-on lesson? He’s supposed to touch you, not just watch?

You pat the space next to you on the bed, motioning for him to take a seat.

He kicks off his boots hastily, padding across the floor and stopping in front of you.

You uncross your legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the bed, your knees only an inch or two from his thighs now. “Hi, Li.”

Gods, the way you say his name so sweetly, shortening the four letter word into two, the way you’re gazing at him so sweetly, and the sight of you, your usual rider’s leather stripped away, with soft pastel silk in its place that covers less than half of what your uniform does... You even smell sweet, sugary and floral, a mix of all the pretty products you’d used in the shower you’d taken prior to this little engagement. He can tell how smooth and soft your skin must be even without touching it.

“Hi,” he manages, blinking at you.

There’s a few seconds of awkwardness before you take the reins, bringing a hand up to cradle his jaw and guide him to where you want him, his lips just an inch away from yours — letting him be the one to close the gap.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say in a gentle whisper, setting your hand back down.

You’re too sweet, too kind and caring. This is a mistake, a terrible one, that he’ll likely never recover from, but he’ll regret it forever if he walks out on you right now; this will likely be the only opportunity he’ll ever have to touch you like this.

He leans forward, nudging his nose against yours gently before he goes in for a kiss, thankful that he’d brushed his teeth in the last hour. You taste sweet and minty, your lips slippery with whatever salve you use to keep them that soft.

You continue guiding him through it, settling one of his hands on your waist and the other on the small of your back, how Xaden had held you, deepening the kiss, introducing your tongue a bit, starting him off slowly.

He steps forward, nudging your legs apart with one of his so he can be even closer to you.

There’s that cute, needy sound that he’d been instructed to look for. Boldened, he holds you a little tighter, pulling you toward him the way he’d seen Xaden do. You seem to like it, tangling a hand in the soft black fabric of his tunic and tugging him closer, whining softly.

He finally pulls away, breathless, just looking into your eyes for a moment, memorizing them. He’s never been this close to you before, never noticed the little streaks and flecks of different colors within your irises...

“Good,” a deep voice assesses.

He startles, stepping back as he remembers that Xaden is still leaning against the armoire five feet away — after all, this is his room, his bed, and his girlfriend.

You’d almost forgotten, too.

“Keep kissing her, and grope her a little,” Xaden says candidly. “She likes being handled.”

Xaden’s wording gives him pause. Her, She. Not girls in general, but you. He’s teaching Liam how to please you. He shakes the thought from his head, reminding himself that this is a one-time thing.

You’re giving him that soft, worried look again. He steps forward, putting his hands back on your waist and pulling you into another deep kiss. You squeak in surprise as his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing gently over the slippery silk.

He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound that you’ll never grow tired of hearing, his lips trailing over your jaw down to your neck.

Xaden likes to leave his mark on you, sucking at your skin hard enough to leave purple bruises the next day, scraping over your pulse with his teeth… but Liam just wants to savor you, to press gentle kisses to every inch of you, to nuzzle his nose into your neck and breathe you in.

You relax against him, content to let him continue kneading at your hips and waist, rubbing his hands over the smooth skin and massaging out any tension left over from the long day of classes and flight training.

He’s worked his way down your neck to your collarbones and chest, his lips brushing the neckline of your nightshirt. He hesitates there for a moment, unsure how to proceed, but Xaden is quick to give more directions.

“Arms up, honey.”

You comply readily, Liam helping lift your shirt over your head. He folds it into neat quarters before he sets it aside on Xaden’s desk, treating the silky fabric as carefully as he does its owner.

You give him a nod of permission, and he slides his hands up your ribs to your chest, admiring the weight of the soft flesh in his hands for a moment, squeezing gently.

“And these cute little nipples,” Xaden coos, curling a wisp of shadow over them. You whine softly at the cold sensation, squirming a bit, but he doesn’t seem to care, still speaking to Liam. “Play with them. Rub your fingers on them, pinch a little bit, suck on them… But be gentle. She’s sensitive.”

He starts off slow, brushing his thumbs over them gently while he returns his lips to your collarbones, pressing little kisses over the soft skin. And then he moves down, down…

You sigh happily at the feeling of Liam’s tongue laving over your nipple in slow, gentle licks, continuing to tease the other with his fingers. He wraps his lips around it, suckling gently, and you tangle a hand in his hair, cradling the back of his head and keeping him close.

“That’s a good sign, too,” Xaden instructs. “Keep going.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice — he’s intent on taking his sweet time with you, licking and sucking and teasing the sensitive little buds. He could do this for hours, just to hear your soft sighs of pleasure and see the blissful look on your face while he works.

You decide that Liam Mairi is simply perfect at everything he tries. The top of his class, and an excellent student. He’s done everything right, passing Xaden’s assessment with flying colors. But if he’s this good with his tongue up here… you need that pretty blond head between your thighs, immediately.

“Shh, honey,” Xaden soothes. “He’ll give you what you need in a minute.”

You flush, realizing that your soft whimpers have become more frequent and higher pitched, more urgent, bordering on pathetic.

Liam pulls back, taking a second to admire you and giving your chest one last squeeze before he moves further down.

Gentle fingers hook into the waistband of the tiny pair of shorts you’re wearing, pulling them down your legs along with the even tinier underwear, a scrap of lace that while very pretty and undoubtedly expensive, must be removed, as it stands in the way of him burying his face between those gorgeous thighs of yours.

He wonders if you’ll taste as sweet as you had in those shameful dreams, the ones that had necessitated long, cold showers in the morning and sitting clear across the table from you at breakfast, trying not to look you in the eye.

“I’ll take those,” Xaden volunteers smugly, and Liam tosses them at him, returning his attention to your pussy.

“Holy shit, honey,” he swears, “you’re soaked.”

“Good,” Xaden praises. “That means you did everything right so far. But you still need to make her cum before I’ll let you fuck her.”

Liam’s eyes widen almost comically. He hadn’t expected Xaden to let him touch you at all, but now he’s allowed to go all the way with you? This has to be a dream.

“Only if you’re comfortable with that,” you remind him gently. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” he answers, too quickly. Cute.

You smile at him; another tiny cut that will be rubbed full of salt tomorrow morning, when he’ll have to see you sitting with Xaden at breakfast and pretend this never happened, that he hasn’t known the taste of your lips and the feel of your skin.

“Then hop to it, pretty boy,” you encourage, smiling — it’s clear that you don’t mean it as an insult, but as a sweet pet name; he’s absolutely gorgeous.

Liam doesn’t need instructions for this part. He gets you settled up against the pillows, making sure you’re comfortable there before he gets to work. He kisses each of your hip bones, his hands smoothing over your legs to part them enough to accommodate his broad shoulders as he lays down on his stomach, hooking his muscled arms around your thighs.

Xaden crosses the room toward you, perching on the edge of his desk, right next to the bed.

You gasp softly at the feeling of Liam’s tongue on you — he’s doing exactly what he’d done to your chest, those soft little licks and sucks, his hands massaging your thighs gently…

“Just like that,” you breathe. He’s worked you up so well that you’re already close, and if he keeps doing what he’s doing, you’ll be cumming on his tongue in a minute or two.

He’s a very fast learner, and incredibly responsive— he’s figured out what earns him those cute little noises that have him throbbing with need, and now he’s doing those things over and over.

He resists the urge to reach down and stroke himself to take the edge off, knowing he wouldn’t last, not with how sweet you taste and the warmth and softness of your thigh against his cheek, your hand in his hair…

“Liam,” you mew, tugging at the soft blonde strands.

Your jaw drops at the realization of just how easily his name left your lips, how natural it felt… You look over at Xaden, wanting to apologize, but it’s hard to form words right now with how good Liam’s tongue feels sucking at your clit.

“It’s okay, honey,” Xaden soothes, tilting your chin up with a gentle hand. “You should let him know how good it feels — how else will he learn, hm?”

You nod, your eyes still locked with his. The depth of those nearly-black irises is such a stark contrast to Liam’s ice blue, but you could easily drown in both, never able to find your way back up to the surface.

“Slip a finger in, slowly.”

Liam’s hands are just as giant as Xaden’s, his fingers just as thick — but rougher, calloused from his constant whittling. Such a cute, innocent hobby. But there’s nothing innocent about the way he’s touching you right now.

“Look for that little rough spot,” Xaden instructs, still looking you directly in the eye. “Press into it a little bit.”

You whimper softly, entranced by the little gold flecks in his irises.

“Sounds like you found it,” he says, sounding amused. “Now curl your fingertips against it, press up on it gently…”

Liam is a perfect soldier, in every sense of both words; very good at following orders, complying without hesitation and getting the job done, but he might be too perfect, too gentle and handsome and kind, too loving… too good to be true. He’s going to absolutely ruin you — both by making you fall apart for him, in what is undoubtedly going to be one of the best orgasms of your life, and by breaking your heart when this is all over.

You focus back on the pleasure, the thoughts fading away quickly. “So good, baby,” you breathe, “just like that.”

Liam hums in acknowledgment, continuing the motions, the soft lap of his tongue and the gentle press of his fingertip into that special little spot quickly building up the pressure between your hips, getting you closer and closer…

“Add a second finger. You’ll need to stretch her a little if you want your cock to fit.”

It’s easy enough for him to slip in his middle finger beside his index, your body providing no resistance to the intrusion; you’re aching for it. You have been since Xaden told you about this little plan of his.

You need to thank him profusely for this later. Maybe you’ll get on your knees for him in the shower, or- “oh,” you gasp, the deep pleasure intensifying now that Liam is pushing two fingers into that little spot… you’re not going to last.

“Xay,” you whimper, remembering the rules he’d laid out for you prior to Liam’s arrival — Liam might be allowed to play with you for one night, but you’re still very much Xaden’s, and he’s still very much in control here.

He coos down at you patronizingly. “You getting close, honey? You wanna cum on Liam’s fingers?“

“Yes, please,” you pant, whining up at him.

“Such good manners,” he praises. “Go ahead, honey. Show him how pretty you sound when you cum.”

It only takes a few more seconds of that delicious pressure building before it becomes enough to throw you over the edge. You whine, tightening around Liam’s fingers and squirming in his grasp, babbling a mix of swear words and thank-you’s and both of their names.

Liam slows his pace, letting you ride it out with a few more soft licks.

“Keep going,” Xaden orders. “She knows what to say if it’s too much. Doesn’t she, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage between your cute little cries, gasping as you feel cold bands of shadow wrap around the backs of your knees, keeping your legs spread while you squirm in sensitivity, undecided between chasing the pleasure and running from it.

Thank the gods for sound shields.

It’s clear to Xaden that you’re reaching your limit, starting to get overwhelmed, and he doesn’t want to wear you out just yet. “Stop,” he orders, calling back his shadows.

Liam withdraws his fingers, and you slump back down against the pillows, spent and panting.

Liam doesn’t have to be told to comfort you after, to take care of you in the comedown — he does it instinctively. “Shh, honey,” he soothes, scooping you into his lap and holding you close. “It’s okay.”

You rest your head against his collarbone, cuddling into him and letting your eyes fall shut, just taking a moment to breathe.

“You did so good for us, pretty girl. Just breathe, hm? You’re safe with us.”

Xaden had convinced himself that this would be a one-off thing, but seeing the tenderness with which Liam is holding you, stroking your hair and cooing soft praises…

Liam’s a good guy, kind-hearted and caring, but this isn’t just that — no, this is genuine love that he senses between you. It might be heightened right now due to the incredibly intimate experience you just had with one another, but there’s something there. He gets the feeling that there always has been, even before your days at Basgiath; it’s just been brought to the surface tonight, and oddly enough, Xaden isn’t mad about it at all.

It should piss him off. He should detest the idea of another pair of hands, male hands, on his girl, but it’s Liam. He loves Liam. Not in the way he loves you — and he doesn’t want to fuck him, that’s for sure — but he cares for the younger boy deeply, and if anyone else is going to be touching his girl, he’d want it to be Liam. Maybe that’s why he’d suggested this whole thing in the first place.

You’ve made a full recovery by now, caught your breath, and you sit up in Liam’s lap, drawing him into a kiss.

Such a needy little thing, always eager for more. Liam is happy to help, kissing you back easily, smoothing his hands over your sides and kneading your hips. He places a hand on the back of your head, another on your waist, laying you down in one slow, fluid movement — again, with the utmost gentleness, making sure that you’re comfortable.

“Put a pillow under her hips,” Xaden instructs.

Liam takes one from the head of the bed, his other hand hooking under your knees to lift your lower body off the bed — you giggle, impressed by his strength.

Liam wonders if you like being thrown around a little bit, manhandled, held down… you’d look and sound so pretty getting pounded into the mattress, face-down ass-up, whimpering into the pillows, but he’s not wasting this opportunity on a quick, rough fuck — and Xaden would probably take issue with that, anyway. No, Liam’s going to take his sweet time with you, treat you nice and gently, and look into your eyes while he does it.

Your jaw drops at the sight of him finally pantsless, the thick black uniform fabric pulled off to expose the pale muscle of his thighs. Gods, you’d love to straddle one and just grind against it while you kiss him, those giant hands on your hips helping guide you back and forth until you came, and then…

Holy shit.

Everything about Liam Mairi is perfect, including — and especially — his cock. And you need it inside you, now.

He strokes himself once, twice, as if he isn’t rock-hard already, dragging the tip through your wetness, letting it tease your clit…

You whimper softly, shifting your hips down to try to guide him into you.

“Words, honey,” he reminds, in a tone eerily similar to Xaden’s. The last twenty minutes have certainly boldened him.

“Want you to fuck me, Liam, please,” you ask softly, pouting up at him. “Need it.”

He could never say no to that pretty face, never deprive you of anything you wanted. He slowly pushes forward, giving you the first two inches.

You take in that same little breath you do when Xaden slides into you, looking up at Liam the same way, with glossy eyes and parted lips, gripping the sheets on either side of you. He takes one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “You okay, honey?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, taking a moment to adjust. He’s not quite as big as Xaden, but it’s still more than enough to fill you completely, a slight stretch as he slowly makes his way forward, a little bit at a time.

He leans down to kiss you, stroking a roughened hand over the softness of your waist soothingly. It’s taking every ounce of his self-restraint not to lose it right now, at the feeling of you wrapped around him, but he needs to make sure you’re okay first before he does anything else.

“M’ ready,” you tell him softly.

“If it hurts, say the word and I’ll stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” you answer obediently, your heart melting — Liam has always been sweet to you, if a little shy, but right now it’s increased fourfold, every word and every touch coated with love and care.

“Attagirl,” he praises, giving you a little peck before he straightens back up, adjusting his hold on your waist and starting to rock his hips into yours.

You both gasp in unison at the feeling, soft pleasure spreading through your core.

“How’s she feel?” Xaden asks, a note of smug amusement in his tone — it's clear that Liam is finally starting to lose his grip a little, his breathing getting heavier, his cheeks flushed…

“Like heaven,” he answers, trying to keep his composure, “so warm and wet and tight… fuck,”

He’s so fucking deep inside you, hitting all the right spots and touching you in the right places, working his way into your heart and carving out a space for himself between your ribs. You hold his hand a little tighter, whimpering softly.

“Doing so good for me, honey, taking me so well,” Liam soothes, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “How’s that feel?”

“Really… good… So… deep,” you manage, your eyes still locked with his, your breaths coming in little pants and gasps.

“Yeah?” he asks, teasing, “Can you feel me in your tummy, baby?” He lays a giant hand between your hips, pushing down, and your jaw drops — the added pressure makes you feel even more full of him, makes every sensation more overwhelming and intense.

Where did he learn to do that?

“Uh-huh,” you stammer. “Feels so good, ah,” It’s very good. Overwhelmingly good.

Xaden makes a mental note to try that with you later — you look like you absolutely love it.

The little fucker didn’t need lessons at all, just a confidence boost, and you’re certainly giving that to him. Xaden knew that deep down, knew about that little puppy crush he’s had on you for years, which hadn’t faded in the time you’d been apart, but decided to offer you up anyway, precise reasons unknown.

He gets the feeling that this might not be a one-night thing after all. But maybe that’s for the best. Maybe Liam can warm your bed and tend to your heart while he’s busy running his revolution and spending late nights on wingleader duty, doing his dagger drops with the fliers…

Liam adjusts the position of his hand, a long finger reaching down to swirl over your clit, and the combination of it all is enough to get you there.

You tear your eyes away from Liam’s to look over at Xaden, a panicked little whimper leaving your lips.

He knows exactly what that sound means. “Shh, honey, it’s okay,” he coos, stroking your hair. “You can cum.”

“Thank you, oh, fuck,”

Liam hadn’t gotten a proper look at you last time, his eyes closed and his head tucked between your thighs, but looking down at you now, seeing your face; cheeks flushed, lips parted in cute little panting breaths, hands clutching the sheets… and then he feels it — feels you clamp down on him, your thighs trembling against his as you shatter.

“Fuck,” Liam rasps, his fingers digging into your hips to ground himself as he continues to fuck you through it.

You’re drowning in the deep blue of his eyes, and you need something to hold on to. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him down by the shoulders so he’s practically laying on top of you — you always do this to Xaden, needing to feel him close to you in your hazy state, and Liam isn’t an exception.

The closeness definitely does something to Liam as well. He braces his forearms against the bed and continues to rock his hips into yours, panting soft praises. “Attagirl. So pretty, so soft and sweet and perfect… you feel so fucking good, sweetheart, doing so well for me.”

If you weren’t his brother’s girlfriend, he’d probably throw an I love you in there too, find some way to call you his, to tell you how much you mean to him outside of this bed, but he still has enough rationality left to know would be a bad idea even without Xaden supervising this whole thing.

He’s so close to you, your entire bodies pressed together, your breaths mixing and noses brushing… you’re clinging to him, continuing to whimper up at him softly… He’s about to fall apart himself.

“You can cum inside her, if you want,” Xaden offers, too casually.

You keen at the idea, shifting your hips to try to take him deeper.

“Oh, would you like that, pretty girl?” he asks teasingly, through panting breaths. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, wrapping your legs around him tighter.

He’s not going to last. He starts to move a little faster, chasing his own high — he’s never waited this long, never spent so much time on a partner’s pleasure, and while you absolutely deserved it, he needs his own release desperately. “Oh, fuck,” he gasps, “gonna cum, baby, are you sure you want me to—”

You tangle your hand in the short blonde hair at the back of his neck and yank him down into a kiss, keeping your legs tight around his waist, not letting him pull out.

He whines against your lips, the prettiest little muffled moan as he spills into you.

“Holy shit,” he pants, his cheeks red from the exertion. He’s always pretty, but nothing beats this, all flushed and fucked out, his hair mussed and lips swollen from the kisses you’d shared, eyes half-lidded…

You commit the sight to memory, suddenly hit with the realization that you’ll never see it again. For all intents and purposes, this “lesson” is over, and starting tomorrow morning, Liam will go back to being your boyfriend’s little brother, and nothing else.

He seems to realize the same thing, resting his head over your heart and breathing you in for a moment, the both of you lingering in the afterglow, not wanting to say goodbye. You hold him a little closer, stroking your hand through his damp hair silently.

Xaden lets you have a minute together, seeming to understand the significance of this moment for the both of you, and backing off.

He slips down from his perch on the edge of the desk, giving you space, but you reach for him, wanting him close, too.

“Can Li stay the night?” you ask in a small voice, not ready for him to leave.

He smiles at you. “Of course he can, sweet girl.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Now let's get you both cleaned up.”

You hum sleepily, letting him pull you up out of bed and get you ready for the showers.

It’s surprisingly not awkward, the two boys working in tandem to clean you up — neither of them mind the other’s presence, having been desensitized to casual nudity from years — or in Liam’s case, weeks — of sharing a bathing room with a handful of strangers.

Liam dries you off, sorting out your hair while Xaden helps rub in that sweet-smelling lotion and dresses you in one of his shirts before you flop down into bed, cuddling up between them contentedly.

You give Liam a sweet little goodnight kiss before you roll over, working yourself into Xaden’s arms like you always do, curling up against the strength of his chest, your head over his heart.

This could work, Xaden decides. You have enough room in your heart for both of them, and he knows that Liam’s intentions are pure — the only hitch will be managing his own emotions, namely any jealousy that arises over another man being romantic with his girlfriend.

It had honestly surprised him when he’d decided to offer Liam a night with you. He’s always considered himself possessive, ready to glare at anyone who looked at you too long — and that had intensified after he’d gotten his magic, once he could “read” people, but maybe that’s why he’d let Liam in, because he felt nothing but love and admiration from the boy.

Still, he can’t help but feel a little left out, even if he’d been the one controlling the whole situation — he hadn’t gotten off himself, too focused on coaching Liam and making sure you were okay, and then it would just have been awkward to do anything with you while Liam sat there idle…

Tomorrow morning, after Liam heads back to his own room, you’ll have some fun, just the two of you. Maybe he’ll tie you up with his shadows again, or press you up against the wall in the showers… the possibilities are endless, but he’ll probably decide on sleepy morning sex. It’s a Friday night, so you can sleep in a little Saturday morning, and have time for a lazy, loving fuck before anything is expected of either of you. He’ll remind you how much you love each other, and treat you as sweetly as Liam had — admittedly, he hasn’t been too gentle with you lately, focused on fucking out the stress of his third year, and being wingleader and leading a revolution on top of it all, but you’d taken it well, literally.

He’ll sleep on it, give it a day or two to simmer before he’ll discuss it with each of you; you first, of course, to see what you say so he doesn’t get Liam’s hopes up, but from the way your hand is still tangled up with Liam’s, his chest pressed to your back and his face nuzzled into the side of your neck, it’s pretty clear that neither of you would be opposed to them sharing you.

But all that can wait — for now, you just need to rest, tucked safely between the two boys that love you more than anyone else in the world.

#liam mairi #xaden riorson #fourth wing #liam mairi x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #18+#smut

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danikamariewrites · 19 hours

Note

Could I request a Cassian x reader fic where reader is having trouble sleeping so Cassian takes her on a night drive to help her sleep please? And maybe a little ddlg undertones :)

Late Night Drive

Modern!Cassian x reader

Notes: this was so cute and I’ve been giggling and kicking my feet thinking about this for days now

Warnings: kinda ddlg (if you squint)

Throwing yourself on the couch with a huff you lean against Cassian’s arm. His gaze with the TV doesn’t break, his concentration on the video game he’s playing with his brothers. Letting out another tired sigh and pressing into him harder, Cassian finally notices you.

“Hey sweetheart, I thought you were going to sleep?” He asks in a gentle tone. Another sigh leaves your lips, “I was trying but I can’t fall asleep. My eyes hurt so bad.” You rub at them as a yawn breaks up the last of your words.

Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a sympathetic groan. “I’m sorry baby. Gimme one second and I’ll help you, ok.”

You nod, still clinging to his arm. You heard him say something into the headset connected to the controller, but all thoughts were drowned out as you focused on his fingers. Letting your thoughts run wild. No, too tired, you think to yourself.

Powering everything down, Cassian turns to pull you into his lap, cradling you to his chest. “Why can’t you fall asleep baby?”

You shrug, “I dunno. I just keep tossing and turning.” A thoughtful hum sounds from your boyfriend. The vibration from his chest soothing you.

“I have an idea,” Cassian whispers. “How about we go for a drive and get some french fries. We haven’t done that in a while.” You give him the biggest smile your tired body can muster. “Sounds perfect.”

Five minutes later you’re wearing one of Cassian’s hoodies and your slippers as he buckles you into the passenger seat. Reclining the seat a little, Cassian leaves a small peck on your forehead.

During the drive Cassian puts on the radio at a low volume. He doesn’t want you getting too pumped up and start jamming out. As he pulls up to the drive-thru you cling to his arm, kicking your feet a little.

“Excited for your snack,” Cass teases lightly. You let out a small uh-huh as you patiently wait for him to order. Once he sets the fires in the cup holders you dive right into yours (not without stealing one or two from Cassian’s).

During the rest of the drive Cass keeps one hand on your thigh, tracing small patterns on your skin with his thumb. It was relaxing. The softness of the radio combined with Cassian’s light touch finally had your eyes closing. You had a fleeting thought to fight your exhaustion, not wanting to miss a moment with your boyfriend.

But it had been hours, you knew he’d take care of you when you finally drifted off. “Love you,” you mumble as your eyes finally close and it becomes a chore to keep talking. “I love you more, sweetheart.” Cassian whispered, leaning over the middle console to press another soft kiss to your forehead.

Pulling back into the driveway a little past midnight, Cassian peeks over at your sleeping form. Turning the car off Cass quietly gets out to open your door. Brushing the loose hairs back from your forehead, holding your serene looking face in his large hands.

Scooping you up and carrying you inside he creeps up to the bedroom. Tucking you in, Cassian gives your forehead one last kiss, whispering, “Night baby. I love you.”

Cassian settles in next to you. He watches you for a while. All your little movements and sighs are so perfect to him. Just as Cass is about to fall asleep he feels your arm across his stomach. Cracking an eye open he sees that you’re trying to inch closer to him. Speeding the process up Cass slides an arm under you, pulling you flush to his chest.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #Cassian acotar #acotar Cassian #acotar fanfic #cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian #cassian fluff #cassian fic

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starcrossed-lov3rz · 3 days

Text

The Vow Spoken Through Time

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Warnings (for the series): MDNI, general filth, threesome, smut, dirty talk, oral (both receiving), and more!

Warnings (for this chapter): MDNI, mild smut (at the end)

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.9K

Description: You fall through worlds and wake up in our favorite blondes’ bed. SHAMELESS “reader falls into HOTD world from our world” trope (I’m sorry, I CANNOT help myself, I’m a sucker for them). There’s not really a *plot* plot, but Part 1 is getting us acclimated before the filth can really begin. (Read - Part 2)

“God my head fucking hurts,” you whine, sitting up to rub your eyes. “That wine really hit out of nowhere.” Your head pounds, it has to be part of a hangover. The last thing you remember before drinking yourself to sleep was getting fired. Your boss hadn’t even had the decency to let you know face to face. An HR representative and your manager requested a zoom call at the end of the day and politely told you to ‘clean your desk.’

After nearly three years of work with the same accounting firm, it was weird to not wake up early and head into the office. The worst part really was that your performance was still stellar, the firm was just hemorrhaging money after several questionable expansions.

Despite the pounding headache and sensitivity to light, you force yourself to open your eyes. “What the fuck?!” Glancing around the room frantically, you panic as you realize you weren’t waking up in the comfort of your room. You had to be the subject of some prank reality tv show because the decor was undoubtedly some renaissance festival shit. The walls were brick with large tapestries decorating the stone. You were laid in the center of a giant four poster bed, black and red canopies flowing.

Slipping from the tangle of sheets and blankets, you pad towards the door. “Okay,” you call out, “you got me. Very funny.”

Silence.

“This is so weird” you murmur, pushing the door open as gently as possible to peak out. A woman rushes by you, dressed in some kind of drab linen and an apron. “Excuse me!” you shout, attempting to get her attention.

The short woman slowed down, stopping to curtsy quickly at the sight of you. “My lady, forgive me. I didn’t you see you there!”

“My lady?” You asked. “What are you talking about? This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny, my lady,” she replied quietly. “Please don’t tell your wife I was making jokes! I swear I meant no harm-”

“My wife?!” Everyone has officially gone off the deep end. First this medieval times shit, now apparently you have a wife.

The woman’s eyes go wide, “Your wife, Queen Rhaenyra. My lady, are you unwell?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I have no idea what’s going on. I lost my job. I don’t know where I am or apparently who I am. I just want-” You choke off into sobs.

“Let me help you back to your room,” she offered, taking your elbow. “I’ll let the Queen know you’re unwell.”

You nodded, letting her lead you back into the room. The woman helped you into a steaming bath and left you to soak while she fetched your wife. “Can’t believe someone made an honest woman of me,” you laugh.

At some point, the entire situation stopped feeling like a prank. Maybe it was watching the maid fill the tub painstakingly bucket by bucket, or the significant lack of electricity. Either way, your situation was beginning to feel more and more real. You grab the bar of soap and lather up a cloth, scrubbing furiously at your skin.

“That’s weird,” you murmur as you notice that your skin seems far too perfect. You usually had a couple scars littering your arms and legs, leftovers from frequently crashing your bike as a kid and general clumsiness. They all seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but perfectly smooth, supple skin behind. “Okay, I’m officially going crazy.”

You see a small mirror on the ledge next to the tub, and reach out with shaky hands. You sigh in relief as you glance into the mirror and see that you look the same. At least you have something familiar here.

“Admiring the view? I know I am.” A deep voice purred from behind you.

Tossing the mirror back, you swiftly cover your chest and pray that the water obscurs the rest of you. “What the fuck?!” You yell, turning to confront whatever pervert decided to interrupt your bath. A tall man towered over the tub, his white hair practically glowing as the candlelight reflected off of it.

“I’m trying to have an existential crisis in here,” you hiss. “Can you come back later or something?”

He snorted a laugh, stalking forward to grab a brush from the side table and sit behind you. “And miss this opportunity? I should think not, my love.” He gently began detangling your hair and brushing it out.

“My love? You do know I’m a married woman?” You retort.

“You never let me forget,” he replied, kissing the top of your hair.

“I mean I have a wife, asshole!” You twist around to snatch the brush from his hands, but he lifts it out of your reach.

“What a coincidence,” he purrs, blatantly staring at your breasts. “I do too. Two, if I’m not mistaken.” His eyes dart down to your left hand, as if he knows something you don’t.

You glance at the ring that’s been there since you woke up. The black metal has a dragon insignia that looks awfully similar to the embroidery on this man’s shirt. “Fuck.”

The man’s brows furrow, “what’s wrong?” He sets the brush down, grabbing a sheet and pulling you from the bath. He wraps you up and sits you in his lap. The warmth seeping into your skin feels so familiar and you feel yourself begin to break. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you burrow your face into his neck to hide them.

Warm hands rub up and down your back soothingly. “My love, I cannot fix whatever is wrong if you don’t tell me.” He hums. “You don’t even have to tell me. Just give Rhaenyra a name and I will ensure whoever made you cry will never breathe again.”

You laugh at the irony. “I don’t know who Rhaenyra is. I’m not sure I even know who I am.”

Before he can respond, a door slams. “Daemon, thank Gods you’re here. The maid said y/n was acting ill and didn’t rememb-”

Your head peaks up over the man–Daemon’s shoulder to see the woman who ran in. Her hair is just as white as Daemon’s and her clothing adorned with the same dragon insignia. This must be Queen Rhaenyra.

“Y/n?!” Rhaenyra rushes over, kissing your cheek before she hugs you tightly.

“My queen,” Daemon greets, leaning in for a kiss. You find yourself pressed between the two, and as much as you don’t want to admit it….the warmth and pressure feels comforting…like home.

“I hate to break this up,” you say, wiping the last of your tears away. “But can someone tell me what is going on. The last thing I remember was being fired, getting wine drunk, and going to bed early.”

“Fired?” Rhaenyra looked confused and immediately started inspecting every exposed inch of your skin. “Did you try to feed Caraxes again? He’s a temperamental old man, just like his rider.”

“Who is Caraxes? Do ya’ll have a dog or something?”

“Dog?!” Daemon sounded almost offended. “A dog?! Rhaenyra we should fetch a maester. Our little dragon is either begging for a punishment or in need of a healer.”

Rhaenyra attempts to cover her laugh. “Caraxes, Daemon’s dragon? You insist on telling him a goodnight story at least once a week.”

“He’s a dragon of war for fucks sake,” Daemon mutters. “You’ve been making him soft.”

“Dragon?!” Your eyes go wide. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be fucking me right now.”

“We are most definitely no-”

“We certainly could be-”

Daemon and Rhaenyra spoke at the same time. You would have laughed, but the implications of Daemon’s words were starting to settle in.

“Wait,” you being. “So if Queen Rhaenyra is my wife….and Daemon has two wives…and you two seem to be close…that means-”

“That you both are all mine,” Daemon purrs.

“Daemon, we must call for the maester. This seems serious, she doesn’t even remember us.”

“What year is this?” You ask, not sure if you want the answer.

“125 AC.” Rhaenyra responds.

“And where are we?”

“The red keep.”

“What, is that like England or something?”

“We are in Westeros.” Rhaenyra feels your forehead. “Daemon, put y/n to bed while I have the maids summon the maester.”

You yelp in surprise and Daemon stands up, holding you close to his chest. He carries you to a vanity, setting you gently on the bench before rummaging through some drawers. “Arms up, love.” He says, pulling a white shift over your head. You stare of into space as Daemon gently braids your hair.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” You ask as he ties a ribbon at the ends of the braid.

“You and Rhaenyra are quite the demanding duo when you want to be,” he snorts. “The staff might revolt and establish Rhaenyra’s cunt of a half-brother as king if I bothered them everytime you both needed your hair done.”

“Language,” you chide. Daemon rolls his eyes before he sweeps you back up into his arms. He carries you to the bed, depositing you in the center before he climbs in. Daemon sits up, back against the headboard as he pulls you in to lean against his chest.

“Do you really not remember us?” He asks.

“How long have we been married?”

“Five years. We were married in the old ways. Your High Valyrian wasn’t as good back then though.” Daemon laughs. “But it was perfect, and I wouldn’t trade you both for anything.”

“So if Rhaenyra is queen, what does that make you?” You ask. He had to be King, right?

“A lucky man.”

You laugh, and lightly hit his chest. “No, really. I don’t remember anything. Help a girl out here.”

“Prince consort.” Daemon answers. You nod, so Rhaenyra must be in charge around here.

“So how’d I end up married to Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Daemon?” You ask in the poshest British accent you can muster.

“You threw yourself at my feet saying ‘Please Rhaenyra, I cannot live without you! You are the sun that brightens the sky and the stars that guide ships home!’” Rhaenyra teased. You sit up to see that Rhaenyra isn’t alone, she brought back some balding man with her.

“I didn’t say that-” You protest.

“Really?” Daemon laughs. “My queen, it’s not proper to toy with someone who is ill.”

“You’re one to talk,” Rhaenyra says, raising a brow. “You seemed rather close when I came in earlier.”

You groan. How did you manage to survive these two for five years.

!!SMUT BELOW!!

PREVIEW FOR PART TWO

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his.

NOTE: Hey all! I'm not dead, sorry for disappearing! Life happened (new job, had to travel home for a funeral). But, I got my shit back together after taking some time for myself and I'm ready to give y'all the stories I've been cooking up. I have some steamy and inspiring requests I'm working on for Feyd Rautha (so if you requested...they're coming). Glad to be back and BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR PART 2!!!! - Lacie <3

#house of the dragon #hotd #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #married life #isekai #game of thrones #reader insert #fem reader #hotd daemon #hotd rhaenyra #hotd fic

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persevereforahappyending · 24 hours

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Maybe in Another Life |13|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of the Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13

“Where are you now?” Clarisse asked.

You took your eyes off the iris message, looking around at your surroundings. The Hunters had set up camp in the mountains. It was fall but still pretty warm, the leaves were all various shades of red and orange as they prepared to fall off their trees. There was a small waterfall flowing into a stream, that the native animals drank from. The sun was just beginning to set, so there was still enough light for Clarisse to see a bit of where you were.

“I’m not even sure which state,” you admitted. “The mountains and more south then north.”

“How’s it going?”

You shrugged. “The usual. We get a lead and then it runs dry. What about you, how are things there?”

You hadn’t seen Clarisse since you left her house after the labyrinth, which was at least six months ago. You still talked to her every week though, you actually seemed to talk to her more than you had been before.

“Good,” Clarisse said, nodding and smiling to herself. “Chris has been good.” Your mouth twitched, wanting to frown but you managed to keep your face as neutral as possible. “We’re actually about to go to the bonfire soon. Silena will not let me hear the end of it if I’m late again.”

Chiron ended up not being able to help Chris. They took him back to camp and after Percy and Annabeth had their adventure in the labyrinth Mr. D had returned to camp and cured Chris’s madness. He went ran into king Minos in the maze who was the one that caused him to go mad.

“That’s great,” you said, forcing a smile. “I’m glad he’s doing better and tell Silena I say hi.”

“Will do.” She had a soft smile on her face, something she seemed too only have around you. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you smiled before waving your hand through mist, ending the message.

You wanted Clarisse to be happy, even if that was with Chris. It’s not like you could ever be with her, you weren’t leaving the Hunters, and you had no right to hold her back from falling for someone else, you had no right to be mad at her. You were friends, you were the one that drew that line. None of that meant that it still didn’t hurt to see her getting along with someone else. You didn’t know when you’d see her again but listening to her talk about how Chris was doing was enough to tell you how happy she was.

“How’s it going?” Thalia asked as she walked up to stand beside you.

“It’s fine,” you said, giving her a little shrug. “Clarisse said Chris is doing better.” Thalia let out a little hum, you weren’t sure what it meant though.

“Annabeth says he’s been a great help with preparations for Luke.”

“He probably knows by now that Chris is back at camp.” You didn’t take your eyes off the horizon, watching as the sun slowly began to disappear behind the trees. “He had to have changed course.”

Thalia nodded. “Probably a little,” she admitted. It would be stupid and crazy for Luke to continue with his plan when Chris wasn’t on his side anymore. Even without Kronos guiding him Luke wasn’t stupid. “At the time though, his big plan was using the labyrinth which he’s already done.”

You nodded, that was true, Chris was one of the ones sent into the maze to figure a way through it. That was Chris’s main mission before he went crazy. “Attacking the camp was just a step,” you said. “War is coming.”

Thalia nodded. “Annabeth is about to call, care to join?”

You shrugged. You had been around for some of the calls with Annabeth, but you were usually off on your own or talking to Clarisse at the same time. Thalia and Annabeth went over a lot of plans and went over new developments if anyone has seen or heard from Luke, but otherwise there was no reason for you to join a call. More times than not the call started out talking about battle plans and then turned into two friends just catching up.

“Hey!” Annabeth greeted when her face appeared through the mist in front of you. “Oh, Y/N, hey!”

“Hey,” you said, giving her an awkward wave. “Hope you don’t mind, Thalia asked me to join.”

“No, no, of course. How have you been?”

“Good, just got off a call with Clarisse.”

Annabeth let out a little hum, flicking her eyes to Thalia for a second before back to you. “How’s she doing?”

You scrunched your eyebrows at that question. “Wouldn’t you know better? She’s at camp with you every day.” You knew Annabeth and Clarisse weren’t necessarily friends, but they had gotten closer when working on the labyrinth mission together and Clarisse was a head councilor, she always told you about councilor meetings and how annoying everyone was being or if they discussed anything serious.

“Well, yeah, but…” Annabeth shrugged. “She doesn’t really talk to anyone here.”

You furrowed your brow, you knew that wasn’t true, she talked about doing stuff with Silena all the time, she mentioned Chris more than once, much to your dismay, and she mentioned yelling at her siblings. “What are you talking about? She literally just told me she was going to the bonfire tonight.”

“Well, yeah,” Annabeth shrugged. “She might make casual conversation with select people.” You nodded, that sounded right, Clarisse wasn’t going around talking to just anyone. “But she doesn’t actually talk to anyone. Not about the labyrinth.” You looked down at the ground, the two of you talked about it occasionally, you figured she’d talk to the others about what happened. “She warned me and Percy and that was about it, she hasn’t talked about what happened down there.”

“Not even with Chris?” based on the glance Thalia gave you, you were sure you didn’t do a good job at hiding the bitterness in your voice. With how much time Clarisse had been spending with Chris you figured she was talking to him; she had been updating you on his condition every call until Mr. D healed him, even after that she still updated you on how he was integrating back into camp.

Annabeth shook her head. “She’s been helping him, but they don’t talk about that. Chris mostly talks to Chiron or even me and Percy.” You gave a small nod, you figured Clarisse had been spending her days training her siblings and hanging out with Chris, first helping him recover, and then just getting closer with him.

“The only one she really talks to is you,” Annabeth said. Your head snapped up; your eyes wide as you stared at Annabeth. “I haven’t seen her act that way in a while, except with you.”

You furrowed your brow. “She hasn’t acted any different?” Some of your conversations got a little more somber but Clarisse herself hadn’t changed, you still talked just as you had before.

“Exactly,” Annabeth smiled. She was giving you this look like that explained it all, like you were supposed to get something. “She’s not like that with anyone else.”

Your eyes found the ground again, you weren’t sure how long you stood there taking in Annabeth’s words. When you looked up you saw Annabeth and Thalia, both watching you, making you quickly clear your throat. “I’m going to…” you pointed back towards the camp and quickly turned on your heel.

You quickly made your way back to camp, taking a seat on a log next to the fire. Only a few of your sisters were still seated around it, some were already asleep, some were off somewhere else talking, and some were patrolling the perimeter. You hadn’t even been seated for a minute before the other Hunters got up and walked away from the fire without a word. You furrowed your brow; you knew you had been distant lately, but you didn’t think you were that bad of company. Your confusion was answered though when you left Artemis sit down next to you.

“You’ve been talking to that girl, Clarisse, a lot,” Artemis said.

You glanced at her out of the side of your eye, there were still times, like this time, when it felt strange to hear Artemis sound so serious, especially when she looked like a twelve-year-old. You had been with her for a thousand years and you didn’t have a problem with taking orders from your goddess, but there were certain times she got serious, and the subject sounded weird coming out of a twelve-year-olds mouth.

“She’s a friend,” you said, staring into the fire. If you turned to look at Artemis you knew she’d see right through you, see that you had feelings that went beyond friendship for Clarisse.

“You don’t make friends often.”

You chuckled. “I’ll have you know I think I’m quite likeable.”

“It takes awhile to warm up to you.”

You chuckled a little louder, shaking your head. That was fair, you tended to come off in not the best light upon first meetings. “I beat her in capture the flag. She was not happy,” you smiled at the memory.

You could feel Artemis’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t hide how happy the memory made you. “I bet a child of Ares took that well.”

You smirked, giving a little shrug. “She’s easy to annoy, you know how much I like that.” You turned your head, finally looking at her only to give her a knowing smirk.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I am more than aware how annoying you can be.”

You lightly chuckled but your smile slowly faded as the memories from camp continued to play through your mind. “We sparred for the first time after Zoe left on the quest,” you whispered. “She could keep up with me, not that she ever beat me.” You caught a small smile on Artemis’s lips. You were a daughter of Nike; you couldn’t let anyone even consider you’d lose.

“You’ve been different since you got back from the labyrinth,” Artemis said softly.

You knew she was testing the waters, seeing how willing you’d be to talk, how much you’d give her. “I almost died,” you whispered.

“There was some sort of monster, it had me,” you said, gesturing with your hands. “It had me, but then…” you let out a humorless chuckle. “Clarisse sacrificed her spear, her pride and joy, to save me. I owe her my life.”

“You care for her,” Artemis concluded, straightening her back.

“Yes,” you said instantly, staring Artemis in the eyes. You knew it was a risk, but you would not lie to your goddess.

“You were sent to pick up supplies but wandered off to help her with a mission.” You swallowed nervously. “Who are you loyal to?”

“You,” you said without hesitation.

“And if you had to sacrifice yourself?”

“Without hesitation.”

“If you had to choose between your sisters or your friend?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. That was the first time you ever hesitated on that question. The truth was, if it came down to saving one of your sisters or saving Clarisse, you’d be conflicted. Either choice, you didn’t think you could live with yourself. You could tell by the slight tilt of Artemis’s head that she suspected this, she knew you’d hesitate on this question.

“I am a Hunter,” you said, your voice was quiet, but you refused to let it waver. “I am loyal to you, to Thalia, and to the rest of our sisters, first, above anyone or anything else.”

Artemis stared into your eyes, it felt like she was staring straight through you and into your soul. You remained strong though, holding eye contact with her and kept your head held high. It wasn’t a lie. You couldn’t deny it, you’d protect Clarisse with your life, but at the end of the day you were loyal to your goddess, she and your sisters came first, always.

“Okay,” Artemis said. She gave you a curt nod before getting up and leaving you alone by the fire.

You turned back towards the fire, staring into the flames as you thought about what had just happened. Artemis believed you; she knew your words were true, she knew you were loyal till the end.

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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creadigol · 18 hours

Note

Can you continue hero x villain teacher hero?

Thank you so much for the request! This is actually one of my favorite prompts and it was one of my first writing prompt ideas ever, years back before I even had a Tumblr. Due to my love of this one, it kinda got away from me and I wrote a lot. Like a lot. Lol.

I hope y’all enjoy!

Part 1 and Part 2 here!

Hero’s very shitty day was taking a turn for the better.

This morning Hero had woken quite late (due to the extended hero-ing from last night), skipped breakfast, tripped on the curb, spilled their cold coffee, lost their parking space to a visiting mother, and almost got disciplinary action for arriving three minutes past their classroom attendance slot.

After hearing the ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of various fourth graders, all of whom watched the principal reem Hero out in the hallway; Hero had finally obtained a sense of control over the class just after lunch. Of course that was after one of the kids had accidentally spilled finger paint on Hero’s chair and didn’t feel the need to tell them until Hero found themselves with a neon pink ass.

As it was, just after lunch was their history time and Hero, not feeling too great about standing in front of the kids looking this disheveled; nor wanting to show off the new color of their pants, simply opted to play two episodes of Liberty’s Kids while the students sat on the carpet. The ploy seemed to work as not one student strayed from the carpet or asked to go to the bathroom. Hero stayed at the classroom sink, located just behind their desk, and tried to clean themselves as much as possible with the children distracted.

Hero couldn’t help themselves from laughing along with the kids as the characters in the show told jokes and got into trouble while learning about the creation of The United States. Hero had forgotten how enjoyable the PBS show was and felt very nostalgic as they remembered the show premiering back when they were a child. Some things never age, Hero thought.

So, all in all, the shitty day was getting better. Perhaps after the show Hero would give the kids a break from memorizing the different kinds of rocks and do a fun science experiment instead. With Hero’s powers they were sure they could make the demonstration look very cool without outing themselves as a super. Maybe they could win back their ‘awesome teacher’ status in the eyes of the kids after it had taken such a hit this morning.

“Not exactly in style, but I must admit you wear it well.” Hero jumped and turned. How had they not heard someone come in?

“I’m sorry?” Hero addressed the unknown adult. They turned from the sink, suddenly very aware that they had been wiping their backside with a wet paper towel. Pink was on their hands and now the floor at the attempt…not to mention still on their ass.

Hero very nearly froze at the sight of the intimidating man. If not for their hero training they surely would have.

He was tall, tall and brawny, but not in the typical sort of way. The muscle in his physique was evident underneath the expensive Italian silk suit; but there was also a leanness to it, like a coiled spring that spoke of agility and readiness. Hero wasn’t sure why, but they instantly felt off kilter, instantly felt tense, like when they are about to face off against a criminal or a villain.

“Your ah…” the man smirked and chuckled, “choice of presentation…or should I say style, on your…well…”

“Oh,” Hero noted the visitors-pass around the man's neck and felt a little of the apprehension fade. Perhaps they were just on edge due to the circumstances the man saw them in. “Not exactly my choice. This is courtesy of a young aspiring artist. She’s just too young to know where her canvas is.”

The man laughed jovially, “What a kind way of putting it!”

Hero heard some of the children snicker to themselves from over on the carpet, evidently finding the new stranger and their painted teacher much more interesting than the Revolutionary War. Hero tilted to one side so as to see past the newcomer and give their students ‘the look’.

“Pay attention please,” Hero chided. “You never know…I may be inclined to give you a quiz on this at the end of the day.”

A series of ‘awwwws’ followed their remark.

“But if you pay attention now, I might be in too good of a mood to write a quiz…”

All the kids turned back to the television with such force Hero was surprised there was no neck damage. All except for one.

“Daddy!”

Oh god.

“Why hello Maria,” the man stooped down and scooped up the child who had run over from her place on the carpet. He hugged her and then placed her back down. Her stature only reached just past his waste.

Hero felt their blood go cold.

Daddy…Maria…

Maria, the student who was first in their class in everything but English…Maria, the student who all the other students named most popular…Maria, the student who aspired to be a veterinarian one day because she loved the class rabbit so much…Maria, the student Villain was most concerned about…

Maria, the student who was the daughter of Supervillain.

Shit.

“Are you here to talk to Teacher?” She asked sweetly, her gaze never leaving her father.

The man nodded, “I am, so you best be a good girl and go back to watching what Teacher has put on.”

She scrunched her face up in a pout, “But you’re going to talk about me.”

He nodded as if it made no difference, “I am.”

“So you’re not supposed to talk about people when they aren't there.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look of determination.

The man, no Supervillain, laughed. “Is that so?”

She nodded sagely, “Yes. Teacher said so.”

Supervillain fixed his gaze on Hero. Hero clenched at the sopping, paint dripping paper towel in their hand.

They knew this day would come. Of course they did. But they had somehow hoped it wouldn’t. Hero was under the impression that Supervillain was not that active in his child’s life. Parent-teacher conferences had always been with Maria’s mother, who had stated that she was happily divorced, and all open houses and concerts had been devoid of Maria’s father ever since she had enrolled at the school.

When Villain had brought up who Maria was, Hero had already known. After all, they were well connected in the hero world.

It wasn’t that Hero purposely got Maria in their class, in fact it was the opposite. Hero tried to keep their two lives as separate as possible, but that was just how the dice fell. Hero didn’t get to choose who was in their class and Maria had been assigned to them.

It was how Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place, their research into Supervillian’s private life had led them straight to Hero.

Hero had said it was a small world.

Villain had said they best be careful.

“Really? Well, I guess you better leave me and Teacher alone so they can teach me lessons like that.” Supervillain smiled at Hero.

Maria was not deterred.

“No, you just want to talk about my report card. But you can’t, because it’s not parent teacher day.”

Supervillain laughed again and ruffled her hair. “Not all parents need to wait for parent teacher day to talk about their children. It’s a parent’s right to bring up concerns to their children’s teachers, isn’t that right Teacher?”

Hero gave a hesitant smile, “Yes, of course it is. Though most call first.”

Hero looked down at Maria, “You go back to the show, Maria, Benjamin Franklin’s about to speak to the French Parliament. I know how much you like him. ”

She looked at Hero with suspicion, though with a hint of apprehension at the idea of missing anything involving Benjamin Franklin.

Hero smiled warmly at her, “You won’t understand the book I’m loaning you if you don’t know what he did in France for the revolution.”

Maria’s eyes lit up, “I can take your book home?”

Hero nodded, “But only if you promise to take care of it for me. Now off you go.”

“I will!”

She turned to her father and gave him a quick hug before hurrying back to her spot on the rug. Hero almost laughed when they saw her place her head on her fists in an effort to concentrate more on the words Benjamin Franklin was speaking.

“Nicely done. Though I can’t say I condone bribery,” Supervillain crossed his arms, but still held the smile from before.

“Well, at least it’s enriching bribery. I told her two weeks ago I had a book at home about Benjamin Franklin and she’s been after it ever since. I guess now I’ll have to bring it in.” Hero found themselves slipping into their normal Teacher to parent tone, though they were sure the tension in their shoulders was noticeable.

“We’ll make sure to get it back to you just as it was,” Supervillain leaned on the desk and looked down at Hero in a conspiratorial way. Hero tried not to think about how Supervillain was taller than them even while leaning. “Now about Maria’s last report card…”

“Mr….” Hero cut them off.

“Escole,” Supervillain filled in easily, though his eyes rose. “Maria has my last name.”

“Mr. Escole,” Hero hoped their voice held more bravery than they felt. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your daughter, but this is rather unorthodox. If you wanted to speak about her grades you could have made an appointment for later in the evening or perhaps during their lunch time…”

“Yes, yes,” Supervillain waved them off, “I meant to stop in during lunch but work got ahead of me. I’m sure you know how it is…” Supervillain gave them an up-down, no doubt seeing the old coffee spill mixed with paint and the tear in Hero’s pant leg from when they tripped earlier. “Some days are just chaotic.”

“I know but…” Hero stopped at Supervillain’s raised hand.

“My darling Maria is too precious to be put on the wayside because of work, don’t you agree?”

“Of course, but as I said…” In an instant Supervillain was in their face. Their tall body leaned over the desk as though there was no barrier between them.

“I am a very busy man Teacher, so I’ll get right to the point. I don’t make appointments, people make them with me. When it comes to my daughter, I honestly don’t care whether you’re on lunch or in the middle of a lecture, I’ll be here and when I’m here we will talk. And when we talk, I expect you to listen and do what I want. Is that clear?”

By the time Supervillain was done, not only was he only an inch away from Hero’s face, but his hand had found its way to Hero’s arm. The grip was tight and bruising, making Hero’s hand that held the pink paper towel shake.

Every part of Hero wanted to fight, to get themselves out of Supervillain’s hands, but a stronger part of them was hyper aware of the children. They couldn’t fight here. They couldn’t do anything to endanger the children.

“What do you want to talk about Mr. Escole?” Hero asked in a shaking whisper.

Supervillain smiled, “Maria was right. You are smart.”

Supervillain lounged on the desk and pulled on Hero’s arm to bring them down closer. “That new repairman that’s been hanging around…what’s their name?”

Hero looked them in the eyes with confusion, though in their mind they started panicking.

Good god, did he know about Villain?

“I thought you wanted to talk about Maria’s English grade?” Hero spoke.

“I know you’ll do what you need to with that. I’m not concerned about her grades. What I am concerned with is her account of her teacher being buddy-buddy with a new repairman. One that seems to do the majority of their work only in this classroom.” Supervillain narrowed their eyes at Hero’s large ones.

“I don’t know what you mean…” Hero stumbled when a hand gripped their throat. Not tight, but plenty threatening. They hoped to god that the children were absorbed in the show.

“Are you saying my daughter is a liar? That there is no repairman? Now, now Teacher, remember what Maria said? Can’t be talking about her while she’s not here.”

“I,” Hero breathed raggedly. They couldn’t let this escalate with the children so close. “Every school has repairmen. I…I don’t know what you want.”

Supervillain squeezed a bit tighter as he stared directly into Hero’s eyes. It took all of their willpower not to look away. What if Supervillain recognized them? They used to think their costume was foolproof, but after Villain had figured it out…now Hero wasn’t so sure.

“Are all repairmen so attentive?”

“I don’t know. They come and do their job.” I’m more focused on the kids, Hero almost said, but stopped. They didn’t want Supervillains attention turning the children right at this moment.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” Supervillain’s grip on their arm was so tight it felt like it was going to break. Hero suppressed their whimper.

“Not that I’ve seen.” They shook.

“Then why are they here so often?”

Hero blinked away tears of pain. “The classroom was in disrepair. It has been for a while. I thought we finally had the funds to fix everything,” They lied.

“Why no funds?” Supervillain tilted his head.

Hero brought their hand up to grip Supervillain’s wrist by their neck when it got tighter. It only made Supervillain shake them.

“Why no funds?” He asked again.

“I…I’m not sure,” Hero wheezed. “I think the city cut the money during the recession.”

The hand got tighter. Hero started to see spots. Oh god, did Supervillain see right through them?

Hero was pulled so close that they were nose to nose with Supervillain. Hero could smell his breath and feel every puff of air that came from his nose. The way Supervillain had positioned himself perfectly blocked what was happening from the children. At least there was that.

“I want that repairmen gone. Immediately.” He paused, his gaze unwavering, “I expect you not to tell anyone of this encounter. If you do…well Maria will be upset, but there are always other teachers. She’ll get over it.”

Supervillain unceremoniously pushed Hero away. Hero collided onto their wooden swivel chair making the whole thing topple backwards. The crash called attention from all the children.

“Teacher!”

“Oh no!”

“Teacher are you okay?”

“What happened Teacher?”

Supervillain gave a fake look of shock and placed their hand over their heart. “Oh my! Kids, it seems Teacher slipped and fell. Better make sure they’re alright.”

It was through a throng of worried children that Hero saw Supervillain slip out of the room with a pat of goodbye to his daughter.

Hero assured the kids that they were okay, just a few bruises.

“That’s why we never leave water on the floor,” Hero said with a smile. “It was my own doing.”

All the students laughed at Hero’s rare klutzy moment and were more than delighted when Hero told them they could eat snacks and watch Liberty’s Kids for the rest of the day, no quiz required.

Once they were settled once again, Hero put their head down on the desk and tried to slow their breathing.

They had only just got their heart-beat back down when they heard one of the kids approach their desk talking.

“Teacher slipped and fell. It was after the mean man whispered at them. Now Teacher doesn’t feel so good.”

“Mean man?” Asked another voice.

Shit. Not now! Why are they here now? They already practically fixed everything in the school.

“It was Maria’s dad, but we all call him the mean-man because he didn’t help Teacher up when they fell down.”

“Maria’s dad?” The shuffling stopped at Hero’s desk. “And Teacher fell after they talked?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, you better get back to the show. I think Washington’s about to cross the Delaware. Don’t worry, I’ll check on Teacher.”

“Okay! Thanks Repairman!”

There was silence. Hero could feel Villain’s eyes staring into as they kept their head down on the desk.

“Hero,” Villain whispered. “What happened?”

At first Hero said nothing, then,

“Are any of the kids around?” Came Hero’s muffle reply.

“Nope, they’re all eating cookies on the rug.” Hero felt the air change as Villain bent down closer. Unlike with Supervillain, Hero didn’t feel threatened at all. “Why?”

“I don’t want them to see. It’s sure to have set in now.”

Villain placed a hand on Hero’s shoulder, “What’s set in?” Hero could hear the urgency in their voice. “Phillip said Maria’s dad was here…”

“Supervillain was here.” Hero confirmed. “And,” Hero lifted their head. Villain sucked in a breath as they saw the dark bruising along Hero’s neck and the mark on their forehead from when they hit the ground. “We had a talk.”

…

“I’m going to kill him.”

@crow-with-a-typewriter @stevihj @waterflower20

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 days

Text

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 11 - We're out of time

Suguru smiles, watching the scene in front of him unfurl with a great deal of amusement. Shoko is trying to teach Satoru how to heal others, now that he figured out how to heal himself, and it’s going just as well as all three of them expected.

Suguru gives her another five minutes before she attempts to strangle Satoru with her bare hands and claim that maybe a life and death situation is going to speed matters along.

“Gojo, please,” she now says, her voice tightly controlled and she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Would you concentrate for once in your life?”

“I am concentrating,” Satoru shoots back. “It just doesn’t make any sense what you’re saying!”

Shoko takes a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself down and Suguru honestly feels bad for her. It’s not as if he has any idea what they are talking about, seeing as he is the only one in the room who doesn’t have any kind of healing-power—neither himself nor others—and so to him it’s all gibberish anyway.

“You just have to concentrate,” she reiterates again. “Remember how it feels when you heal yourself,” she says, not for the first time and Satoru throws his hands up in frustration.

“I know how it feels when I heal myself!”

“Then put your hand on my arm and heal this goddamn cut!” Shoko snaps back and maybe Suguru was a bit generous with his estimate of five minutes.

It looks as if she’s about ready to snap any moment now.

“I can’t, why won’t you understand that! It doesn’t make sense when it comes to you, it’s just not the same!”

“What do you mean ‘not the same’? A body is a body!”

“But it’s not,” Satoru whines and slumps in his chair, eying the shallow cut on Shoko’s arm.

Suguru suspects it’s pretty hard for her to keep it open in the first place at the moment and he wonders if that might be one of the reasons she’s so annoyed by Satoru today.

“What do you mean by that? Gods, Gojo, would it kill you to explain yourself once in a while?”

“Things in my body make sense,” Satoru starts, clearly trying to make Shoko understand. “There’s a wound, I do a little—” he wriggles his fingers in what Suguru guesses is a sensible motion because Shoko nods “—and then it’s gone. But I can’t do the same for you. There’s this—barrier or something and everything past that is muddled and muted and confusing and makes no sense at all. I don’t even know where to send my energy to start on healing you and nothing you say makes sense because I don’t feel your body like I do mine.”

“And thank the gods for that,” Shoko mutters before she shakes her head. “But that’s not feasible, Gojo, you have to figure out how to look past this barrier. What if he gets hurt?" Her hand flies up and she points an accusing finger at Suguru, who almost jerks back.

He’s just here to bear witness to this madness, not be dragged in and besides—

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Shoko,” he drawls out and then very much does not wither under her burning glare.

“We all know neither of you are indestructible. We’ve seen it. So what if Geto gets hurt again, huh? What are you going to do then?”

“Bring him to you?” Satoru gives back and shrugs. “I mean, I can just teleport him to you if it comes to that.”

“It’s not that easy, Gojo. You can’t always assume that an injury will still allow you to move him.”

“Huh?”

“What if he’s impaled on something? What if moving him means exacerbating his injuries? What are you going to do then?”

“I can just come and get you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Shoko shakes her head. “You know Yaga sends me to Kyoto more often these days. What if I’m not here? Are you going to warp yourself all over Japan just to get me? We all know you can’t do long-distance teleportation—not yet—and even if you could: two times that close together while you’re also transporting another person? It’s unlikely even you can do something like that. And even if, let’s pretend your genius self can figure this out, what about him then? You want to leave him alone, seriously injured on a battlefield? Either with a curse still there or left all to his own? It’s not going to work, Gojo. You have to figure out how to do it, for his sake at least.”

Satoru looks over to Suguru with a frown and Suguru simply shrugs. Shoko isn’t wrong, after all. So many things can go wrong on a mission and there’s no way to predict a situation like this.

“It could also be a matter of time,” Suguru apologetically says, because he knows Satoru hates it when he’s not on his side but Shoko is right. “What if I’m bleeding out? You teleporting all over the place could take too much time. Sometimes it’s a matter of seconds that make a difference.”

Shoko only points at him as if to say ‘What he said’ and Satoru groans.

“Fine, I get it, I do, but that doesn’t change the fact that I cannot figure it out!”

“Then work on it! You learned RCT in a moment of shock to safe your own life. Imagine how you’d feel if he would die, maybe that will help.”

“Please don’t,” Suguru immediately blurts out because while he doesn’t believe in superstitions, it does feel a lot like inviting doom should Satoru imagine something like that.

And Suguru can really do without a near-death experience any time soon.

“Can we just stop for today?” Satoru quietly says, his eyes downcast, and Suguru doesn’t even want to think about what he’s imagining right now. “I promise I’ll work on figuring it out, I promise, but—not today?”

“Fine. Get out of my hair then,” Shoko mutters, waving them off and Satoru is off his chair faster than Suguru can comprehend.

Satoru snatches Suguru’s hand in his and drags him off with him and it’s not as if Suguru is putting up much of a fight, so he easily follows Satoru. He seems lost in his own head and Suguru keeps quiet until they are in Satoru’s room.

“You okay?” Suguru asks once the door is closed behind them and Satoru lets out a shaky breath.

“Don’t get hurt until I figure it out,” he says, his voice almost pleading, and Suguru’s chest suddenly feels tight.

“Satoru—”

“Suguru, just. Don’t get hurt, alright? I will figure it out, I promise you, but until then you cannot get hurt. I can’t—”

Satoru’s breath is coming a bit fast right now and Suguru steps close, resting their foreheads together.

Suguru gets it; he always feels a little bit faint when he remembers just how much blood he found in the spot where Satoru fought and he can imagine that Satoru felt much the same when he heard that Suguru had gotten hurt as well.

“I’m gonna be careful,” Suguru promises him because that’s the only thing he can do.

There’s always a chance in their profession that they are going to get hurt and things in a fight are more than unpredictable but he can at least promise that he’s not going to take any unnecessary risks.

“Please,” Satoru whispers, gripping Suguru’s arm almost painfully and Suguru pulls him into a real hug.

“I promise I’m going to be careful. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“Thank you,” Satoru says and deflates where he stands.

Suguru expected it, so he can easily hold Satoru up, but he does shuffle them over to the bed.

Today, they are going to take it easy and then tomorrow they can double down on Satoru’s training. Suguru has all the faith in the world that Satoru is going to figure it out because he’s a genius like that and so he’s not too worried about anything.

It will be fine.

~*~*~

Suguru can barely breathe and he guesses the huge hole in his chest is the reason for it. There’s a lot of red seeping out of him, he distantly thinks and tries to raise a hand to push it back in.

It’s not very successful and Suguru blames his hand for it, because it barely comes up to where he wants it.

“Suguru! Suguru, no!” Suguru hears Satoru yell out and then in the next second the sky is replaced with sky-coloured eyes.

Suguru thinks he might like the eyes better than the sky.

“I’m good,” Suguru says, can barely feel his mouth shape his words and watches how Satoru’s eyes drop to his chest.

“You’re not fine, fuck, what am I going to do?” Satoru cries out and Suguru remembers that he has not yet figure out how to heal other people.

“Shoko,” Suguru says, because he has to.

He’s going cold and things are getting more clear somehow and he knows he has to send Satoru away.

“Get Shoko,” he says again when Satoru doesn’t move and he tries to push his hand away from his chest, but he can’t find the strength to do so.

“Suguru,” Satoru whispers and Suguru blinks.

“No time, Satoru, need Shoko.”

It’s getting harder to form words and he knows in all honesty that he doesn’t have long left. This is it, for him, and he barely spares a thought for himself. The only thing on his mind apart from the fuzziness is the fact that Satoru cannot be here when he dies.

Satoru shouldn’t have to see that.

“I’m not going to make it, we’re out of time,” Satoru gives back, clearly knowing damn well that Suguru will be dead before Satoru is even halfway to Shoko and he puts his hand on Suguru’s chest.

Suguru thinks he might be sick when the wet noise makes it to his ears.

“I’m gonna heal you. I’m panicking, this is a life and death situation, I can totally figure this out,” he mutters and then closes his eyes to better concentrate.

Suguru’s eyes want to drift shut as well but he fights it. If he has to die then he wants Satoru to be the last thing he ever sees.

“You’re not dying on me, shut up,” Satoru says, a touch of hysteria in his voice and Suguru wonders if he said that out loud or if Satoru managed to read his thoughts somehow.

It could be fun, if Satoru were a mind-reader now as well.

“Suguru, stay with me,” Satoru pants out, clearly exerting himself by concentrating really hard and Suguru thought there was a hole in his chest so he doesn’t understand why it’s suddenly burning like that.

“Satoru,” Suguru gets out only to be met with a fierce glare.

“Shut up,” Satoru hisses and Suguru obediently falls silent.

Satoru is clearly doing something and it probably wouldn’t do to interrupt him now.

“You’re not going to die,” Satoru mutters as sweat beads on his forehead. “You’re not. I won’t let you.”

It’s a nice sentiment, Suguru thinks, and then his energy is all used up and the last thing he remembers to do is smile at Satoru.

He deserves at least that much.

~*~*~

Suguru wakes up to Shoko’s face. The sight in front of him doesn’t change, even when he blinks once, then twice and eventually he decides to accept it.

He didn’t expect to see Shoko in the afterlife, but stranger things have happened.

“How did you die?” Suguru asks, his voice raspy and Shoko snorts out a laugh.

“I didn’t, you idiot. Welcome back to the living.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you heard me right,” Shoko says and leans back. “You survived.”

Suguru cranes his head down to check out his own chest and he is honestly confused when he finds it whole and unmarred.

There should be a hole the size of his fist in there.

“What happened?”

“Gojo healed you.”

“He figured it out?” Suguru asks and he can’t help how proud he sounds.

He always knew that Satoru would figure it out eventually but to hear that he in fact did somehow hits differently.

“Uhm, that’s probably a conversation you need to have with him,” Shoko says, avoiding eye-contact all of a sudden. “You should feel a little bit groggy, but otherwise you’re good to go. Gojo is probably still sulking in your room, claiming I took too long to clear you to go.”

“I—see,” Suguru mutters because this is all a bit much. He does understand that Shoko wants him out of her hair and so he sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the couch he was laying on.

He feels a little unsteady on his legs when he finally pushes himself off but that feeling fades quickly.

“Thanks, I guess,” Suguru mumbles, waving at Shoko who only rolls her eyes at him.

“Go thank your possessive freak,” she gives back and that only serves to confuse Suguru further.

It takes him a little bit longer than usually, but he does make it back to his own room eventually and just like Shoko promised him, Satoru is right there.

“Satoru,” Suguru breathes out and Satoru is there a second later, fluttering his hands over Suguru’s chest as if he has to make sure that he’s really unhurt.

“Did Shoko clear you?”

“She threw me out, if that’s what you mean,” Suguru replies and then pushes past Satoru towards his bed.

Sitting down does sound kind of nice right now.

“That means you’re good then.”

“She did mention that you healed me?” Suguru asks and leans against Satoru with a sigh when he finally sits down on the bed as well.

“What else did she say?” Satoru asks, fiddling with his fingers and Suguru frowns.

“She called you a possessive freak,” he honestly gives back and Satoru huffs.

“Honestly, what does that woman have against me. That’s so uncalled for.”

“What happened?” Suguru asks and leans more firmly against Satoru. “You figured it out then? Healing others?”

“Not—really,” Satoru whispers and clicks his tongue.

“What is it then?”

“Remember that talk I had with Shoko? Where I said that it’s easy because my body makes sense and then there’s a barrier around everyone else?”

“Yeah?”

“Well—it turns out there’s no barrier around you,” Satoru rushes out and Suguru blinks.

“Huh? You mean I’m—what? Leaking everywhere?”

“No, it’s more like—” Satoru sighs. “There’s my body and then there’s everyone else’s. And you’re more like—my body.”

Suguru takes a moment to digest that.

“That’s what she meant by possessive,” he eventually mutters and drops his head to Satoru’s shoulder. “Because you see me as yours.”

“It’s more like—as if we’re one,” Satoru mumbles, his voice barely audible and Suguru hums. “Are you—mad?”

“About what?” Suguru wants to know because being angry is the furthest thing from his mind right now.

“About—that?”

“Satoru,” Suguru sighs out and reaches out to take Satoru’s hand in his, treading their fingers together. “Apart from the fact that you saved my life—for which I am beyond grateful—it’s always us, isn’t it? Why would I be angry knowing that you feel the same about me?”

“The same?”

“Of course the same. Besides, isn’t it you who always says that I’m your one and only? Don’t you think I would have complained before if I minded that?”

“Probably,” Satoru admits and Suguru shrugs.

“Then I don’t see what there’s to worry about. “I love you. You love me and it’s all like it should be. Especially now that I don’t have a huge hole in my chest.”

“Gods, don’t even say that,” Satoru says with a wet laugh. “You have no idea how scared I was.”

“I can imagine,” Suguru replies, because—again—he had to find so much blood after Toji.

He gets it.

“Now, I am cleared and I am very obviously not dead, but I am incredibly tired, so can we please just lay down?”

“Yeah, of course, sure, come here,” Satoru immediately says, moving away from Suguru to allow him to stretch out on the bed.

Satoru follows him easily but instead of laying down next to him, he almost drapes himself over Suguru, pressing his ear to Suguru’s chest.

“Do you mind?” Satoru asks and Suguru somehow musters the strength to raise a hand and card his fingers through Satoru’s hair.

“Not at all,” he whispers and with a sigh of contentment Satoru goes boneless.

“I do love you,” he says after a long moment, “just wanting to get that out there.”

“I think your actions said that loud and clear,” Suguru replies but he can’t deny that it does feel nice to hear him say it.

“Good. Can’t let you forget,” Satoru mutters and then drifts off to sleep, clearly having worn himself out with his worry.

Suguru is not far behind though and he sleeps very well, knowing that his one and only feels the same.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #june of doom 2024 #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #near death experience #serious injury #angst #hurt/comfort #getting together #love confessions

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siflshonen · 2 days

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The Greatest Robot on Earth: Astro Boy and Pluto Part I

So you’ve just watched Pluto on Netflix, but you didn’t know that it is the best Astro Boy fanfiction ever made. Great! Or maybe, hypothetically, you’ve read classic Astro Boy but don’t know about Pluto, or, as it was called for the Viz release, Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka. Well, awesome, because I’m about to give you all the details behind their creators and creation and give you a side-by-side of the classic Astro Boy and this new(ish)-fangled Pluto.

C'mon. Look under the read more line. You know you want to.

If you want to skip to the manga side-by-sides, check out part II and part III. Or, you can read the whole thing in one go on Ao3.

Context and Background

Tezuka, Urasawa, and the Showa Era

So, let me start with the basics: What is Astro Boy? What ain’t Astro Boy?

Tetsuwan Atom, known in the west as Astro Boy, is the most well-known manga created by the “Godfather of Manga/God of Manga” Osamu Tezuka in the 1950s, but it metastasized into multiple anime series, games, merch, spin offs of various types, and that one CGI movie in 2009. The series follows the adventures of robot hero Atom (called Astro in the west) as he fights for the benefit of humans and robots to create a harmonious future for both.

Here’s a timeline of Astro Boy- and Pluto-related events to help you visualize what came out when and why there were multiple runs of the Astro Boy manga. For our purposes, the most important thing to understand is that, even though Astro Boy was a kids’ series, its attitude and themes, as written by Tezuka, reflected the incredible shifts in Japan after World War II and the ever-present shadow of it still left in the minds of its citizens.

But before we get into all that, let’s talk about Osamu Tezuka himself.

Osamu Tezuka's Legacy and His Monster

If you, sweet reader, are a self-appointed weeb and you don’t know the name Osamu Tezuka, I’m personally scandalized. Still, here’s the short version: he was a workaholic mangaka that many hail as the creator of modern shonen manga (historians get heated about when, how, and if Japanese comics made the jump to modern manga, so do your own research, but Astro Boy is definitely the most famous worldwide contender for this title instead of, say, Tezuka’s first work Shin Takarajima/New Treasure Island), and he’s the guy who created the world’s first serialized made-for-TV anime with a sequential plot and sold it as a loss leader to get it on the air.

Arguably, the precedent he set in order to get the anime-ified Astro Boy to screens everywhere is a major reason that the anime industry is so unsustainable, but we’re not here to talk about that.

Tezuka-sensei was a prolific, passionate, and deeply beloved artist from Osaka who tackled damn near every manga genre and arguably created some of them before he died of stomach cancer (and overwork, if we’re being honest here.) I’ve only shown a few of the 400-plus titles he created to give a brief overview of the scope of his work. Since I’m talking to you as a fan, not a historian, I specifically chose titles I own or have read most closely.

Message to Adolf, which was also published as Adolf, is about Nazis. Okay, that’s only part of what it’s about, but we’ll revisit this one in more detail later.

Black Jack is probably Tezuka’s second most famous work, and yeah, it’s broadly categorized as a shonen. It follows the adventures of underground doctor and genius surgeon Kuroo Hazama who dresses like a vampire, acts like a black-hearted and preachy douchebag, and endears himself to everyone who interacts with him.

Dororo is a historical fantasy thriller about a guy regaining parts of his sacrificed-upon-his-birth body by slaying demons and uncovering the mysterious past of his companion, the child thief Dororo.

On the flipside, Princess Knight is a shojo for younger kids about a princess with the heart of a boy and the heart of a girl who uses her two hearts to genderbend as needed to maintain her claim over her kingdom and keep it out of the hands of the wicked.

Meanwhile, Ode to Kirihito is an extremely mature medical fantasy drama that questions when and how a person still maintains their humanity and when they become a beast in their own eyes and the eyes of others. As I’m sure you can tell, such themes exploring what humanity means are almost as common to Tezuka’s works as a medical professional featuring as a main character. He needed to use his degree for something, I suppose.

In fact, the common conflict between Tezuka’s bright, young, optimistic, passionate, independently-minded, and opinionated doctor main characters and the corrupt, constricting, slow-moving, old-fashioned medical institution probably offers the most insight as to why Tezuka chose to pursue manga over medicine. I don’t think this was the only reason, but from reading his manga, I feel founded in asserting that the stifling status quo of established medicine was a contributing factor.

Tezuka never made any bones about putting himself and his feelings directly in his work. He spoke what was on his mind throughout his manga, and his introductions to various Astro Boy stories are no exception. He was also transparent about his struggle to make sure his works maintained popularity even when he resented any changes others suggested he make in pursuit of this goal. In general, Tezuka-sensei didn’t take kindly to the idea of others influencing the direction of his creative visions basically ever, if the story of the Jungle Emperor: Onward, Leo! anime is any indication. (He’s just like me for real.)

If Tezuka-sensei wanted to write about war, he did. If he wanted to write about rape or trauma or abortion or racism, he did. He jumped on the chance to write about sex ed and, well, several of those other topics in Apollo’s Song.

If that scares you, don’t worry. Most of the time, Astro Boy was usually about the nature of war, human rights, the nature of humanity, and robots. It was also written for grade school kids.

Tezuka’s penchant for frank honesty wasn’t limited to commentary made within his manga, but also about his manga, and his statements on Astro Boy are some of his more standout claims on that front. That he called Atom a “monster” and said he created him “for the exposure and the money” doesn’t paint a flattering picture of his attitude towards his most famous work.

But, in truth, his distaste for compromising the truth of his characters at others’ suggestions probably betrays his real feelings about Atom. As much as he may be Tezuka’s monster, he is also his pure-hearted hero of justice and beloved creation. And, by his own admission, his feelings towards his work during the creation of “The Greatest Robot on Earth”, the Astro Boy story on which Pluto is based, were distinctly positive (even if at one point the background characters remark that Atom is a monster!)

The readership’s opinions on “The Greatest Robot on Earth” were likewise pretty positive. Among those readers was Naoki Urasawa, who credits the story with inspiring his deep love of manga. (His recounting of the impression the story left on him in this interview with Netflix Anime is incredibly sweet.)

Naoki Urasawa and His Monster

Who is Naoki Urasawa, besides the guy who co-wrote and illustrated the 2003 Pluto manga? Well, Urasawa-sensei is my favorite mangaka, so jot that down, and he’s known for his suspense thrillers, layered narratives, melodramatic showstopper moments, and also stories about cute girls doing sports. He is also a musician and guest professor alongside his editor and Pluto co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki.

20th Century Boys, named in part for a T.Rex song, is arguably his most famous work and it is heavy on the 1960s-1970s nostalgia, but in a good way! The inherent optimism, kindness, hope, and passion (and sometimes outright cheese) of every Urasawa character and title never feels insincere. The series is a seinen with the heart and whimsy of a shonen (and personally, I feel like such a description holds true for even Uraswa’s darker works.)

If you don’t want to read 20th Century Boys or its sequel, 21st Century Boys, you can watch the live-action movie adaptations.

Meanwhile, Monster is my favorite manga and anime. Herr Doktor Tenma (yeah, like Astro Boy’s Tenma), a Japanese brain surgeon practicing in 1980s Germany, saves the life of a little boy only to learn years later that the kid is a mass murderer, his murdering ways continue into his adulthood, and he will likely never be caught. Only Tenma knows the truth, so he embarks on a quest to stop the “monster” he revived.

I have less familiarity with Yawara! and Happy!, but the first is a sports comedy about a girl struggling to balance an athletic career and a normal life, and the second is a sports drama about a girl pursuing tennis to avoid becoming a prostitute.

Pineapple Army is about an ex-merc’s adventures working as a self-defense instructor. Urasawa illustrated this one, but did not write it. I suppose I could have included Billy Bat as a representative work instead, but I honestly didn’t want to start unpacking that—though I will say that Billy Bat is probably the closest answer Urasawa has to Tezuka’s Message to Adolf since they both spin around the concept of a rumor or idea causing the world to lose its collective mind.

So what motivated Urasawa to add Pluto to his body of work? Mostly his editor/producer and co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki, probably. Er, that’s not very flattering. Let me try again.

Japanese media loves to emphasize passing its passions and convictions to the new generations (source: have you ever read or watched a mainstream action shonen in your life? If you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve written about My Hero Academia or read the manga itself, I’m sure you think as much as I do that pointing out such a thing feels like beating a dead horse), and Urasawa’s (and later, the M2 team’s) motivation in creating Pluto is no exception. As Urasawa put it in his Netflix interview, “It’s like we received the baton from Tezuka-sensei, and would pass it on to the new generation."

And Osamu Tezuka-sensei’s son, Macoto Tezka (who probably spells his name that way so people don’t get him mixed up with his dad) let Urasawa and Nagasaki do it so long as they made sure the new retelling was something new, exciting, and unique when compared to the original! And while the pressure to succeed in this endeavor probably damn well near killed Urasawa-sensei, I think Tezka made the right call!

But if the goal was to pass on this Astro Boy story, which was written by a REALLY old dude, beloved by kinda-old dudes to the new generation, and practically unheard-of by today’s anklebiters, what kind of direction was the damn thing meant to take?! And why was the answer “fantasy Gulf War Astro Boy fanfiction”?!

Astro Boy in the Eyes of the New Breed

Astro Boy may be a series meant for younger kids, but it didn’t exist in a vacuum separate from the climate of the world from which it came. Tezuka would probably roll over in his grave if it did. The work, its messages, and its sensibilities were grade-A, postwar Showa stuff—particularly its reflections on pacifism, war, and power.

Nagasaki’s summation from the postscript of Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka volume 8 sums up Tezuka and his generation’s outlook pretty handily, but I think it’s helpful to show exemplify this outlook and contrast it with the outlook of Nagasaki and Urasawa’s generation through manga!

Please observe this key moral-of-the-story panel from “The Greatest Robot on Earth” published in 1964 alongside this panel from late-1980s Dragonball featuring Muten Roshi stating the core idea of his series. I’ve chosen Dragonball as a point of comparison not just because of its notoriety as a big shonen title created for a similar audience as the original Astro Boy, but because creator Akira Toriyama was born in 1955 and, much like his contemporary Urasawa, who was born in 1960, “The Greatest Robot on Earth” left a deep impression on him. (Despite what the caption implies, the photographed page in this tweet actually features Toriyama’s admiration of Tezuka, though I don’t doubt the article from which it is pulled also includes Tezuka’s feelings about Toriyama. I ran it through Google Translate a few times and then laughed when I realized Toriyama made a self-deprecating joke about his poor reading skills, since he points out that he was in third grade when he read “The Greatest Robot on Earth” in the magazine Second Grader.)

To Astro Boy’s Ochanomizu, strength ain’t all that great, and strength for strength’s sake is foolish and vain. In fact, Professor Ochanomizu, who is the moral compass for most Astro Boy adventures, doesn’t value the pursuit of strength the way modern shonen, and several other characters within his own series, do. Hell, he doesn’t give Uran any superpowers even though Atom, the robot boy with nuclear power fueling his 100,000 horsepower (later 1,000,000 horsepower) and seven special powers is her brother!

At the time of Ochanomizu’s creation, real-life Japan still freshly remembered World War II and the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; no the fuck Ochanomizu (and Tezuka, through him) wasn’t about to endorse or create robots that doubled as weapons. That nonsense was for other, “more violent” robot manga, or the slew of other misguided and corrupt roboticists within the Astro Boy canon. Well, except there was that one time Ochanomizu helped create the artificial sun, but he didn’t ever intend for it to become a weapon.

Meanwhile, while Roshi also does not believe in strength for strength’s sake, he absolutely pursues it and encourages his pupils to do the same while fostering their awareness of the hardship, dangers, and fun of their path. Even with his warning, the Dragonball cast’s pursuit of strength is portrayed as alluring despite the double-edge, much like promoting national pride (and power) increases a nation’s convictions in its unity and identity but also draws the negative attention of other, possibly more powerful nations. Andy Yee succinctly frames this still-impending crossroads about how Japan might use its nationalism—its “pursuit of strength” in Dragonball lingo—in his 2013 article “The Twin Faces of Japanese Nationalism”. In it, he quotes this 2012 Project Syndicate article by Joseph S. Nye, Jr. pointing out that nationalism could be a force for positivity if tempered with reform and control, but could also cause the country to start conflict with its neighbors and shit the bed if left to run wild. (The conversation surrounding the topic of Japanese nationalism continues beyond 1980s manga or the 2013 socio-political scene, of course.)

Unlike Atom or Ochanomizu, Dragonball’s Goku finds such attention alluring: his heart’s desire is to fight strong opponents. It is his ikigai (“reason to live”) and at the end of the Cell Games, it becomes his, uh, shinigai (“reason to die”), if you will.

Did I lose you? I just asserted that the messages in these shonen about acquiring strength = messages about acquiring national pride and power. At its best, the Dragonball-esque attitude towards increasing national pride (and combat strength) is empowering, inspirational, and bolsters the good-hearted. At its worst, it could feed into a cycle of toxicity, unproductive self-importance and, ultimately, flat-out Japanese nationalism and war (and at its stupidest, it just becomes Let’s Fighting Love. Protect my balls.) Since classic Dragonball is a gag manga, I doubt Toriyama was ever thinking this hard about the messages of his work in regards to world history, but that’s sort of the point: Toriyama and his generation likely weren’t thinking this hard about it. Dragonball’s authorship lacks the crushing, firsthand memory of the consequences of unbalanced and misused power that the authorship of Astro Boy has.

In other words, Astro Boy’s cast pursued scientific advancement while lamenting the inevitable folly and destruction mankind brought forth with it so that Son Goku could fish naked, kick ass, get his ass kicked, meet god, kick ass, ghost god, ghost his family and friends, come back, kick more ass, repeat this cycle like twice, and get everyone to thank him for it. Dragonball’s more optimistic, power-fantasy-ish outlook broadly categorizes the outlook generation of New Breeds (shinjinrui) born around the 1960s like Toriyama, Urasawa, and Nagasaki before the reality introduced in their emerging adulthood hit them like a fucking truck.

The New Breed generation earned its name because their outlook and values, which were developed during a time of economic plenty and peace, seemed totally divorced from the values of the generations that lived during or immediately after World War II.

“They might as well be a different species,” snarked their elders, probably, though not necessarily out of bland hatred—Yoshiyuki Tomino’s Gundam series portrays his Newtypes, who are meant to be at least somewhat analogous to the real-life shinjinrui, in a generally more sympathetic light and occasionally a positive one (if they aren’t being used by someone else, that is.)

Tomino, who was born in 1941, also worked on Astro Boy at Mushi Pro.

Baggage between generations is not unique to any one country, obviously. But in this case, it seems Urasawa and Nagasaki decided to tap into it and incorporate the core beliefs, hopes, and grief of their generation and those of the generations before them into Pluto.

Taking this approach was also the perfect excuse for Urasawa to distill everything he knew and loved about Tezuka’s works into one transformative manga. And don’t just trust Tomohiko Murakami on that—trust me as a fan of both Tezuka and Urasawa. It’s very noticeable that Urasawa and Nagasaki pulled from all things Tezuka to create Pluto even as it incorporated new ideas, including criticism of the Gulf War.

…So it’s probably a good thing I took the time to explain all this stuff to you so that you can now start to see it too! You can thank me later. Let’s see how the classic “The Greatest Robot on Earth” compares to Pluto.

#astro boy #naoki urasawa's pluto #pluto netflix #osamu tezuka #naoki urasawa #pluto sahad #gesicht #tetsuwan atom #shonen manga #naoki urasawa's monster #akira toriyama #dragonball #sifl's meta presentations #Pluto presentation

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keyaho · 21 hours

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◣the gridiron.3◢

summary: told in flashbacks and the present the gridiron follows chanel dawson and joseph anoa'i's relationship from college football to the NFL and all that is in between.

content warnings⚠️: mentions of sexual assault word count: 1309

◤chapter three: revelations◥

Chanel woke up how she knew she would. Joseph’s arm was thrown over her waist and his head was buried in the side of her neck. She embraced the warmth as she always did. Snugging back into his arms she turned her head into her pillow and sighed as he rubbed his hands across her stomach.

“You were supposed to be sleeping in the guest bedroom,’ Chanel whispered.

She was glad he was in their bed and after crying herself to sleep last night she wanted him to hold her but she still wanted him to listen to her and give her space.

“You expect me to ignore you crying?”

She lifted her head from the pillow just as Joseph sat up on his arm and rolled Chanel over to face him.

“You heard me?”

After she told him to sleep in the guest room he went downstairs to eat but something didn’t feel right. So he sat outside the bedroom listening to his wife cry. It was the first time she cried because of something he had done and he felt like shit for it. Joseph wanted to go inside the room and throw himself at her over and over. He wanted to beg for forgiveness but he just sat outside the door until he heard her stop. That’s when he went inside and got in bed with her. He’d been there the whole night while she sniffled and shuddered from the aftershocks of crying so hard.

“Yeah I did. I don’t care how many times it takes. I'm going to keep apologizing for it. It was nothing you did to make me make that choice. I want you to know that, bunny.”

After sixteen years together, this wasn’t going to break up their family. She loved Joseph with all of her heart and still did. Chanel went to duck her head when he fitted her chin between his fingers and made her look up at him.

“I’m not going to love anyone else the way I love you. I fucked up.”

Maybe it was being a masochist, but rumors, jokes, and everything under the sun was about to drop on them. Chanel wanted to be seven steps ahead.

“I know. I want to know what happened. Both times.”

“What?”

He knew his wife was a control freak. She liked things a certain way, done a certain way, and perceived a certain way. Not that she was a perfectionist but Chanel didn’t do well when she didn’t have control. Running the house and her business was like watching a well oiled machine. She could give his Coach a run for his money when it came to keeping things organized.

“I don’t want her to control the story. I want to know from you what really happened.”

Joseph scratched the back of his neck and stared over his wife’s shoulder to avoid eye contact. He felt her hands smooth up his chest as she waited for him to respond to her. The details were there. He remembered both nights. Not because they were anything to brag about but because of the embarrassment he felt thinking about it.

“What will me telling you that do?”

“I just want to know. I don’t want to read about it. I want to hear it from you.”

It was a tough situation to be in. He knew what he was going to say was going to hurt because it hadn’t meant anything in the end. He didn’t care about that girl enough to even remember her name. He wasn’t even sure how she had his number to contact him as much as she had. The first call should have been when he told Chanel the truth, but he thought it would go away on its own.

“I don’t want any more humiliation, Joe. I just…...it’s too much to know people are talking about you and it’s out of your control. I want the control back. I nee-’

“Okay,’ he said. He saw her getting worked up and he didn’t want the added pressure on her. As Chanel sat up, Joseph rolled to his back. With his arms behind his head he sighed when the light of the bedside lamp turned on and hit his eyes.

“It was after an away game last season. The week after you came to see me in New York.. We were in one of the guy’s suites playing back some of the footage when they came in. The cheerleaders normally fly out before we do so I didn’t know they were coming.”

Chanel could feel her teeth starting to grind together. She stilled them before picking at the stray lint on the bed sheets. “Who brought them?”

She practically knew every one of the main players. It had to be one of them if Joseph was with them.

“Rollins.”

Kissing her teeth, Chanel rolled her eyes. Seth Rollins, currently a receiver on the team and honestly one of the few people Chanel disliked and she tried her best to be open and nice to everyone but there was something about Rollins that didn’t sit right with her. Chanel even tried befriending his wife, Rebecca, but that was a dead end she ran into each season. As head of the Wives Association she had to collaborate on a lot of things with the other wives and girlfriends. Rebecca didn’t respect the seniority and thought her two years would level her up. Humble pie had to be served and Chanel dealt with her because she had to and only when necessary.

“So what happened after that?”

“I didn’t care if they were there. I was focused on the tapes. She came to me. I was friendly. I’m not gonna be rude but I thought I made it clear I wasn’t into what they were doing.”

“So how did you end up fucking her?”

“We didn’t fuck…..she just sucked my dick. It wasn’t in front of everyone. I had gone to the bathroom and when I came out she pushed me back in. I didn’t fight her. I knew what could have happened if I tried fighting. It would have been this huge scene so I just let it happen.” Joseph glanced at his wife and then back to the ceiling. “After about five minutes of her fumbling around I made her stop.”

She took in the information. Pushy girl and by nature her husband wasn’t forceful. She wasn’t saying it was okay, because it wasn’t no matter how it happened, but it put things into perspective.

“The second time was at the birthday party for Jerry. She cornered me. She threatened to tell you and make a big scene about what happened in the hotel room. Exactly what I knew would happen. Chanel I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t want to do it…...there is no way that kid is mine. I wasn’t even aroused…”

There was a panic in Joseph’s voice and it was the conviction she needed to know he wasn’t lying to her.

“You mean to tell me she put you in a position where you no longer had a choice.”

Joseph rubbed his hands down his face. He knew what she was getting at. He just didn’t want to say it.

“Yeah.”

“Let me handle it?”

It wasn’t a question but he nodded.

“I’m taking her for a pregnancy test in a few hours. I will deal with Rebecca tomorrow at the meeting.” Rolling out of the bed she walked to his side and kissed his forehead.

She was leaning away when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I don’t want that to get out Chanel. You needed to know but I don’t,’ he looked up at his wife and she assured him with a hug. "No one can know that."

“I got you baby."

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns

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