#Blessing Youth Mission | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miguel-owhora · 5 months

Note

Something like one day Miguel assigns you some task and in the process you encounter a variation of his and you completely forget about your mission, then Miguel has to go look for you because enough time has passed, only to find you half unconscious and very stupid, with clear signs that another Miguel fucked you.

I was actually hooked on your idea idk idk

TYPE — drabble

SYNOPSIS — what anon said

WARNINGS — 18+ , cheating but is it really cheating if it's a variant of your husband , cunnilingus , squirting , implied multiple orgasms/milking

FEM-ALIGNED READERS AND MINORS DNF, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED.

TAGS — @sweetcorpse , @tophamhat-kyo , @villainousdelicacy , @realitylemon , @gayaristocrat , @gaynesspersonified

MORE — this idea literally has me foaming and slamming inside my cage

This version of your home world isn't unusual. It's literally a couple years from '99, a couple years back into the past. Nothing unusual, nothing uncommon from your current year back in your original timeline. Swinging around your city is nice, the sky dark with the city lights polluting the night sky, preventing you from seeing the stars - that is, you never really did see them, unless if you went to the moon station. But that was only ever a privilege you got once you were older.

You spent majority of your youth in the underground part of Nueva York, living in the dark with only the city lights as the sun. You only ever stepped out whenever you wanted to rebel and when you went to college, and only ever moved out of the underworld - the name many called the underground of NY - when you got with Miguel. Bless his heart, as much as you adored your husband and how many years you've been living on the nicer side of NY - that is in looks, but just barely - you would always favor the underworld. You found that despite the reputation it earned, the people were always more real and down to earth than the people living overhead.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and just barely swerved out of the way before you hit a pole. You swung yourself up and landed on top of a skyscraper of a building, landing in what many would dub the classic spider pose. You peered over the edge of the building, overlooking the city in all its glory. Nueva York, as a whole, no matter how corny you would sound right now, would forever hold a special place in your heart. The people, the food, the diverse mixture of culture and background - that's what made Nueva York, Nueva York: just a clusterfuck of everyone and everything.

After a solid couple seconds of surveying everything you raised your hand to look at your goober - despite what Miguel tried to get everyone to say, it was a goober at the end of the day, a damn watch if you want to be simple about it - and began to type in it. You read over the mission Miguel gave you, just a simple 'catch an anomaly and go home' type of mission It wasn't one of those big bad villains, just some guy. Didn't even have a name.

You snorted to yourself as you lowered your arm and stretched, grunting as one or two of your bones popped pleasantly, blood flooding back to wherever it needed to go.

"I didn't know we had a Spider-Man."

The sound of Miguel's voice nearly has you falling off the building, and hadn't it been for your ability to stick to surfaces, you would've been a splat of flesh on the floor. You whipped around, startled, and found yourself looking at your husband.

...Future husband, as this Miguel isn't - first of all - your Miguel and younger than the early thirties man you knew and love. But it was still technically your husband. Technically. Unless if this was one of those world's where you didn't go overhead and stayed in the underworld, or something along those lies, somewhere where you never met Miguel.

This Miguel of Earth-547, Miguel-547, was younger than your Miguel, a bit more youthful, but no less handsome. Perhaps in his twenties, with the telltale signs of a lack of sleep on the heavy eyebags underneath his dark eyes, perhaps from studying so much. The thought has you almost snorting but you caught yourself as you stepped down from the railing of the building, looking over at Miguel with a slight tilt of your head.

"You don't. Not yet, at least." You replied, eyeing him with keen interest, mission forgotten.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. You shake your head, snorting in amusement. He's Miguel, he's your husband, just like when he was younger, back when you first met him, back when you first roomied with him against your will.

"Who are you?" Miguel asks, and you can see the regret written across his face. This time, it makes you laugh, both at his face and at the question.

"That's.. that's stupid. Nevermind." Miguel mutters, face darkening in embarrassment as he lightly pouted - frowned, whatever, he has the same face for both feelings - and looked away. It's such a Miguel thing to do that you choke and cough, laughing, and wiping away tears that never meet your fingers, not with your mask covering your face.

"I'd tell you my name but..." You rolled your shoulders, placing your hands on your waist. "I think Miguel would get mad at me for revealing my identity, even if it's just my name. I don't want to mess with any canon event. You know how it is."

"I don't." Miguel replied, glancing back at you with a confused expression. "And Miguel? That's.. that's my name. I'm guessing you mean somebody else? And canon ev- what the shock are you even talking about?"

Oh the irony, you thought to yourself. "Something like that, sure, and it's a long story."

Miguel pursed his lips and gave you a look. You grinned behind your mask, the lenses to your mask squinting at him.

"But I can offer you something better."

This got Miguel's attention and you chuckled, still grinning. Gotcha.

Which is how you ended up in Miguel's dorm room, stuffed between his legs and eating at his pussy. His legs hold you firmly between strong thighs, keeping you trapped and stuffing your face into pussy - not that you minded of course. It's your favorite past time, and why would you deny yourself the opportunity to eat your man's cunt like it's your last meal? You'd be a fool not to.

Miguel's voice is breathless and whimpery, a hand holding the back of your face as he shamelessly grinded against your mouth. He arched his back and squeezed his thighs when your mouth attached to his swollen cock, sucking on the sensitive nub. Your tongue dipped into his hole as you felt him tremble and moan, incomprehensible words of praise and encouragement tumbling from his mouth as he came inside your mouth.

He tried to push you away once his climax passed over, but you didn't budge, merely using your enhanced strength to grab onto his thighs and gently push them down. The position made him even more open and gave you even more access to the sweet, delicious slick that poured out of him, which you didn't dare let a spare a single drop and eagerly slurped up.

"Hah - ca- shock! - cálmate, pinche perro!" Miguel moaned, his thighs tensed and twitching as he danced between pushing your head away and humping into your mouth. He moved when you slipped into two fingers and began to move them, thrusting them in and out of his pussy with a certain expertise that came with someone who's done this before, and sucked on his cock.

Whatever you did, however you learned it, was enough to rip an unexpected orgasm from Miguel that had no buildup and caught him off guard. Even moreso when he felt liquid shoot from his pussy and he went unbelievably warm, but shock, if it didn't make him stomach flutter. His cheeks darkened when he heard you obscenely slurp, drinking whatever liquid he squirted out.

"What - what the shock was that?!" Miguel breathed out after you finally pulled away with a pop. Miguel felt something hot and possessive curl in his stomach when he saw the bottom half of your face - the only thing you dared to show him, the upper part of your face was hidden by the mask you wore - was dripping wet with his fluids. He watched as you licked your lips; and Miguel swallowed.

"You squirted," You said calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You pulled your fingers away from his pussy and plopped them into your mouth, cleaning them of whatever slick coated it, and Miguel stared with wide eyes.

He slowly blinked and looked away, beyond flustered.

"I never knew I could do that." Miguel muttered, panting.

"Well now you do, use it wisely." You replied, amused, lips curled into a teasing grin. Miguel rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. Your eyes flickered from his face down to the rest of his body and over to the lower half. His pussy was slick and swollen, the dark hair neatly trimmed, looking and smelling and tasting absolutely delicious. That never did change about him, did it? You could spend all eternity between his legs, eagerly doting on his cunt.

You snapped out of your thoughts with a little grunt as Miguel suddenly hauled you off the ground and onto his bed, flat on your back. The lenses of your mask widened and your mouth went dry when Miguel swung himself over your lap, straddling you. Your hands instinctively fell onto his waist, so small and holdable, and nervously giggled, licking your lips that suddenly felt too dry.

"What's - what's all this about?" You asked, flustered. Miguel seemed to pick up on this and smiled, a little dangerous, a little fond. He slowly rolled his hips down, eyes gleaming when you softly moaned, your cock, hard in your suit, eagerly responding to some stimulation.

"Just a little treat. You ate me out..." Miguel's hand reached down to grab a hold of your cock, rubbing it through the material of your spandex. "...So I'll let you hit."

"Fuck." You whispered, breathless. Miguel just chuckled, eyes dark and smile dangerous in the way that made you fall in love all over again.

"Have you checked on [Name], Miguel?"

The sound of his AI's voice is enough to rip Miguel's attention from the holograms in front of him. His eyes feel dry as he gives a couple of blinks, vision straining from having stared at screens for so long. It takes a couple of heartbeats before Miguel could process Lyla's question and gave her a questioning look as she hovered near him.

"What?" He asked, intelligently, and totally not in a dumb way.

Lyla rolled her eyes, exasperated. "[Name]? Your husband? The one you sent on a mission?"

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes. "I know the name of my husband. Why are you asking if I checked up on him? He's reliable, he'll get the job done."

Lyla smirked in the way that told Miguel she knew something he didn't and could already feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

"What's wrong?" Miguel demanded, immediately on alert, his mind beginning to creep with different scenarios that made him stomach twist uncomfortablely.

"Nothing's wrong. He's fine, he's not hurt." Lyla paused and gave him a look over her heartshaped glasses. "He's just neglecting his duties for a variant."

Miguel processed the words and paused, eyebrow raising. "Variant?"

Lyla just smirked even wider, glitching and moving somewhere else, teasing. A set of coordinates appeared on Miguel's watch.

"Why don't you check it out?" Lyla chuckled, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "But just go alone, alright?"

Miguel didn't know if he wanted to strangle Lyla or himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temple. He could already feel the telltale sign of a migraine appearing, and no, his lack of sleep did NOT contribute to it.

"Lyla, open a portal." He eventually sighed out, dragging a hand over his face to get rid of any drowsiness.

"You got it, boss."

The orange and colorful portal appeared in front of Miguel, lighting up his dark lab in a warm color, changing the texture of the area around it. Miguel took a moment to appreciate it, a moment to gather himself, before throwing himself in the portal.

He knew the world he sent you to was one of your guy's timelines. Just a couple years back into the past, nothing crazy. The whole mission was a simple one, even a newbie could've done it. He knew you could handle more, obviously, but the thought of you getting hurt, of losing you, that frightened Miguel. It scared him. And while he knew you'd get tired of basic missions like the one he assigned you, he wouldn't budge. Well, at least not now.

But he didn't think he'd end up in a rather familiar dormroom. Specifically, his old dorm room, in his bedroom. Familiar posters line the walls, little figurines scattered around, his old desk lined next to his bed and scattered with messy shit. It's nostalgic, and for a second, Miguel imagines himself as his fresh out of high school guy barely entering his college years.

What's out of place, however, is the body of his husband laying on his bed. He's not dead, thankfully, Miguel's eyes catching sight of the slow rise and fall of his chest, and if anything, seems to be half out of it.

His mask is pulled halfway up, from his nose and down being the only thing revealed. His lips are slick and bit, light bruises on his jaw. The pants of his spandex are pulled down far enough to reveal his cock, which lays heavy and flaccid on his stomach, and yet...

Miguel's cheeks darkened and his lips pursed when he saw the dried evidence of cum on your belly and cock. Miguel pixelated his mask away, sighing out of exasperation, even if his core squirmed in a familiar way.

Miguel walked the short steps towards his bed and hovered over you, taking in your frazzled and obviously worn out appearance. Miguel reached down and gently grasped your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you.

He was surprised when you softly groaned, squirming as you seemed to awake up.

"Miguel?" You slurred out, and Miguel then realized his variant must've had his time with you.

"[Name,] ready to head back home?" Miguel questioned, his voice quiet but a faint hint of affection tinting his words. Perhaps he should be jealous that a variant got to his husband, but he can't find it in himself. If anything, it was... kind of hot. But that was another thing for another time.

"Mm? Home.... wait-" You stirred a little, becoming just the slightest bit alert. "Which dimension?"

Miguel made a little exasperated face even if you couldn't see. "928."

You went slack, pleased with the answer. "Mkay, le's go h'me..." You slurred before promptly knocking yourself out. Miguel stared before slowly setting your head down. He gently pulled your mask down and stuffed yourself back into your spandex before scooping you up.

"Lyla-" He began but was caught off by the AI, who glitched into existent.

"He looks kind of cute. You're, like, his knight in shining armor - or would it be spider in shining armor?" Lyla mused as she took a couple mixtures of the husbands. Miguel didn't dignify her with a response as a portal opened up, illuminating the room in a warm colorful glow. Then, a thought crossed his mind and he paused.

"Did he even finish his mission?" Miguel asked Lyla, even if he knew the answer.

"Absolutely not." Lyla grinned.

Miguel took a deep breath but didn't get angry - he never did get angry with you, now did he?

"Send someone to finish it." Miguel asked as he slipped through the portal, his AI glitching out of air. Missions he damned, he had his own mission now: giving you the aftercare his variant failed to do, which, in his opinion, made him the best variant out there.

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monocaelia · 9 months

Text

atlas.

- he could only hold the world for so long, it was about time his body caved in ; aka, the two times you're reminded of his humanity. feat. gojo satoru & gn!reader genre : hurt/comfort , happy ending w.c. : 1.8k

warnings: spoilers for jjk s2 ep5 note : i hate goe joe satoru.

gojo satoru.

you didn't even need to see him to know who he is; he is the revered member of the gojo clan blessed enough to be born with both the six eyes and the infinity cursed technique and is a one in a lifetime miracle.

from the beginning of his life, gojo had been the strongest sorcerer in existence. with both blessed techniques at his will, he was near unstoppable and was worthy of shouldering the problems of jujustu society from a young age, as decided by the gojo clan.

and, for someone as blessed and impenetrable as he is, gojo had never felt the emotional strife of losing someone dear to him.

there are two times that you recall ever witnessing gojo satoru lose his composure, where you have seen the blessed one who holds the power of the gods in the palm of his hands and is always one step ahead of everyone else fall to his knees as the weight of the world finally takes its toll on his poor soul.

the first time was when getou suguru had betrayed jujutsu tech. you weren't sure of the details; you were in the middle of a mission and had returned to the news of your classmate and friend becoming a wanted criminal.

honestly, hearing it firsthand did not feel real to you. getou suguru was someone you had always admired. he was someone who not only had a powerful cursed technique, but was also a skilled fighter and knew how to use his technique to the fullest despite coming from a normal family rather than one of the prestigious families that were well-known in jujustu society.

you had shared smiles with him, stories of the crazy memories made while exorcising curses and the near-death experiences shared while on missions together.

and you knew gojo and getou were near inseparable during their time at jujutsu tech; you couldn't imagine the pain gojo was going through with the news of his one and only becoming a murderer wanted in all of jujutsu society.

you find gojo satoru alone in getou's old dorm room. it's empty; the once neat, but lived in dorm now completely void of any evidence of being lived in with the exception of a framed picture of your class left on the nightstand.

getou and gojo tower over you and ieri, but it's all smiles from the four of you. because of the small frame and the number of people in the photo, you're all squished together. though, it's not like any of you minded.

a perfect picture of youth; the most beautiful moment in life.

the frame is held in gojo's hand as he sits on getou's dorm bed. you can see his fingers clench the frame as frustration settles into his bones, before he relaxes once more.

"it's not your fault, you know," you say gently, breaking the silence and hopefully through the roaring storm that you know is brewing within gojo's head. you step into the room and join gojo on the bed; he doesn't move and he doesn't face you.

"no one saw it coming." you try to reassure him, but you know any attempts at this point are futile. gojo does not respond, a flood of memories flying by crystalline eyes as he tries to figure out when it went so wrong.

the silence is permeable as reality settles into gojo. his lips part, a shaky breath, and he's speaking again.

"i should've seen it coming," he whispers. there's a clear anger in his voice, though you know full well exactly who it's directed at. "i was his friend and i didn't even realize he was hurting alone." His voice cracks.

"i didn't even do anything to save him."

it is then that you begin to see gojo as who he is. he isn't an untouchable god who feared nothing, who had enemies that couldn't even lift a finger to hurt him if they even dared. this gojo beside you isn't an omnipotent god, he's just a kid like you; he's human. he's vulnerable, even if the elders believe otherwise, for his friends are his one and only achilles' heel and the key to his humanity.

not quite knowing the words to comfort him, you reach over to hold his hand. it isn't much, but you know firsthand that just having someone beside you to help support your pain is better than shouldering everything alone.

the tight squeeze of your hand and the quite sniffles beside you are all you need as a reminder that gojo satoru is not a god; he is only gojo satoru.

the second time gojo felt genuine fear was when he nearly lost you.

as a result of a curse that was underestimated for second-class sorcerors to take, you had become collateral for a simple mistake from the higher ups. of course, mistakes could just be that, but everyone knows better.

this was set up so they could easily dispose of you and rule your death as a mere 'accident.' the higher ups needed you gone as the deemed your existence a hinderance to gojo's full potential, a dam in the middle of the river.

lucky for you, you made quick work of the curse before collapsing with the only words you heard being a shout of your name.

the bright lights of the jujutsu high infirmary are the first thing you see when your eyes slowly flutter open. your vision is blurry and the world is still spinning as you regain consciousness. with hesitance, you slowly sit up despite your body aching and telling you to lay back down.

it is only when a firm hand presses against your chest and pushes you down do you actually do so.

crystalline blue meets your gaze. they're playful and full of youth, a pair of blue eyes that you're most familiar with. but theres a shadow of solemnity behind those bright irises and you know exactly why.

"about time you woke up," gojo speaks up, ruffling your hair with his hand. they're roughened from years of training and fighting, but there are no other blemishes that stain the purity of his hands. "i thought you finally had enough of me and decided to kick the bucket, dear." there's a light, jesting tone to his voice as he speaks. he's laughing, though you can see the redness underneath his eyes as he brushes off your near death experience as a joke.

"and leave you alone to torment the students? as if," you jab back with a smile of your own. "i wouldn't ever want to wish that on your students. fushiguro would drag me back from the dead if i left him alone with you."

gojo's bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow in a pout as you say this and you can't help but laugh a little on your own.

"but i know you'll miss me, so i won't die just yet," you reassure your white haired companion. your hand reaches over to hold his own and gives it a gentle squeeze, a reminder that you're alive and still breathing beside him as your pulse and your warmth bleed onto his own.

his hand squeezes yours tightly, as he did years ago, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he bites down onto the plush skin. his eyes aren't focused on you anymore and instead focus on anywhere but you as the reality of the situation settles into his bones.

"promise?" gojo asks, his voice a mere whisper.

he already lost one of his closest friends years ago and you witnessed that heartbreak with your own eyes as you had comforted gojo when he needed it most. you couldn't imagine how his fragile heart would break again if he had lost you just now.

despite being the strongest, you know that not being able to fully protect the ones he held close was one of gojo's biggest weaknesses as much as he tried to hide it.

but you know that you couldn't give him any empty promises knowing the work you're doing. it would only give him false hope and the both of you know that better than anyone else.

you don't answer him and instead pull his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto his skin. with a gentle tug, the hand held by gojo is pulled into his chest as he cradles your palm. his fingers intertwine with yours and your heart swells at the small action.

it is then that you meet crystalline blue once more, though this time they are unwavering as they firmly stand their ground against the hands of fate that, at any moment, could cruelly tear the two of you apart.

"don't leave me," gojo begs. "you can't leave me until the world has turned for the better, for us and for the youth of jujutsu society. i'll make it happen so..."

the once invincible sorcerer brings your hand up to his lips and he presses a kiss along your knuckles, reciprocating the act you did before.

"please, don't leave me."

gojo leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. it's soft and hesitant, but you know at this point his fear of your life nearly slipping through his fingers has caught up to him. he pulls away, only to lean down again to kiss you.

your heart flutters feeling his lips kiss yours and you can tell from the way his lips barely ghost of yours that gojo is scared you'll disappear from him if he moves the wrong way. like a warm wave easing the worries that burrow into his entire being, your hand that's free from the one held in gojo's reaches up to cup his face. your thumb caresses his cheek and bring him closer to you, reassuring him that you won't slip away from him should he kiss you too hard.

gojo pulls away from the kiss with cheeks warm and his eyes, now a calming blue that held the stars you love so much, glint with satisfaction and relief.

though, the sweet and tender moment shared between lovers is ruined the moment gojo opens his mouth again.

"don't break my promise, okay? i don't care if you die, i'll die with you and haunt you forever as punishment for dying first, okay?" your white haired boyfriend urges as he leans his forehead against you, blue now an annoyance to you as he forces you to make eye contact with him.

your hand pushes his face away with a snort, ignoring his whining complaints as you do so.

though, it's not like you would ever willingly die first. you couldn't leave gojo satoru alone, your soul couldn't bear the burden of knowing you would shatter the glass that makes gojo's heart.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #didi writes #this got more serious than intended but wtv LOL #this is how i cope with hs gojo arc being animated #i hate stsg so much.#makes my stsg plushies kiss and make up #yes ik there's another time where gojo loses his resolve #but that's for manga readers to know only

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starryletters · 7 months

Text

no moment of silence

synopsis ; talking and reminiscing with satoru!

inspired by:

"i always have such a need to merely talk to you. even when i have nothing to talk about, with you i just seem to go right ahead and sort of invent it."

- virgina woolf

☆

notes: au! where no one dies and geto stays, gojo being a silly chatterbox, flashback to when you first met, meet ugly sorta, new girl reference!

wordcount: 1.3k words

"so!" satoru breaks the silence.

the silence that had lasted for about 15 seconds.

his head lays in your lap and one of your hands is tangled in his soft white locks.

it had honestly made you a bit furious when you first moved in with him and realized all he used was some basic shampoo and his hair was apparently just naturally blessed by the gods to always look perfect and feel soft and silky to the touch.

although that's hardly surprising. every part of him seemed to be blessed by some deity.

you gently scratched at his scalp. today had been a long day for both of you.

you two had been sent on a mission that seemed to last for hours, leaving you physically and him mentally exhausted by the end.

on evenings like this, it often dawned on you how unfair all of this truly was.

you two were just now entering your twenties and instead of enjoying your youth, you had to risk your lives in a fight against grotesque-looking curses on the daily.

before you can spiral down this disheartening path any further like you usually did, satoru's voice interrupts your thought process.

"do you think i should grow out my hair like suguru?"

you glance down at him with a bewildered expression. then you paused to think. obviously, he would look good but-

"you really think sugurus gonna let you do that?" you grin.

he crosses his arms, "he doesn't own that hairstyle! anyone can have long hair." a soft chuckle escapes your lips. "you'd look good. but i doubt you are actually planning on doing that. plus i like your hair the way it is now."

being with satoru made everything feel so easy. he was easy to talk to, he made it easy to forget about the cruelty of this world, and he was so so easy to love. just the mere sound of his voice rambling about the latest odd thought he'd had, flushed away all of your worries at a moment's notice.

of course, they'd always catch up, with both of you, but even in those moments when you would both be too choked up to voice your grievances, the gentle touches exchanged between you seemed to put everything into words.

"what if i got a buzzcut, would you still think i look good then?" he continued.

an awkward silence fell over the room.

"wow, is this how vain you are? is the foundation of our relationship just built on my good looks?" he dramatically placed his hand on his forehead and averted his gaze while sighing.

"you didn't even let me answer!" you protest a lighthearted smile etched onto your features.

"your silence is deafening." he glares.

"i would still think you look good. megumi definitely wouldn't though. so i'd advise against it." you brush a few rogue strands of hair from his face.

"pfft! i don't care what that brat thinks!" he huffs

"he made you cry the other day."

"i told you there was something in my eye!"

"yeah, tears."

"i hate both of you" he sits up and slumps his lanky body against you.

a comfortable silence falls over the room.

that's the thing with satoru, silences are always comfortable even though-

"i'm bored."

they never last very long.

"how is that even possible? it's been two seconds." you chuckle, nudging your head closer to him.

"be honest. do you think i would win against sailor moon?"

"no way." you immediately reply, with a quick shake of your head.

"woooowww, you could've at least hesitated." he scoffs and clutches his chest in a dramatic fashion.

"sorry but she'd beat your ass." you shrug, and he starts pouting.

"i'm the strongest!"

"not as strong as sailor moon! you're just jealous you can't have a magical girl transformation."

"i don't need a magical transformation i always look magical and beautiful!" he pokes your cheek.

"i don't know, i think you'd look more magical fighting in a sparkling skirt." you grin down at him.

"ooh naughty" he says in an overly sultry tone while winking at you

"not like that!" you flick his forehead. (well, maybe just a little like that..)

"anyways she'd win, sorry." you change the topic. he lets out an offended gasp and turns his head in your lap so he is not facing you anymore. "you're always so mean to me, i'm never marrying you." he groans. "aw you wanna marry meee" you reply in a singsong tone. "not anymore" he replies.

you chuckle before saying "you remember what you said to me when we first met?" he turns back around his blue eyes lighting up with surprise then annoyance. "yeah of course i remember, shoko and suguru made me put like 3,000 yen in the jar for that one" he groans at the memory. you smile fondly.

jujutsu tech, common area

(2006, 9:34 pm)

it was your first day in tokyo and your first day at jujutsu tech. you had transferred from kyoto to be closer to your relatives who were sorcerers unlike your immediate family in kyoto. "it'll be good for you to be surrounded by family who have the same abilities as you! they can teach you more about the day to day life as a sorcerer." your mother had said. you didn't want to leave kyoto or your parents but she was right. and often times you were quite honestly frightened that just your mere presence might bring curses to your parents' doorstep. you wanted to protect them. so they wouldn't have to be involved in this world at all.

earlier today you met your new classmates. 2 guys one girl. they seemed polite and pleasant save for one overly confident (and flirtatious) white-haired guy. though he was the only one you'd heard about before. obviously. everyone in the jujutsu world knew gojo satoru. his confidence wasn't exactly misplaced you'll give him that much but that didn't make him any less annoying in your eyes.

besides him, the first day at jujutsu tech had went well. shoko and suguru seemed like nice people and you hoped they would consider you their friend soon like you already considered them yours. you could get attached quite quickly.

currently, you were spending time with them (and gojo) in the common room.

you were chatting with shoko about an arcade that was apparently nearby when suddenly gojo pulled out his wallet and slammed one 1000 yen bill on the table while smirking at you.

suguru glared at him "oh god, you're about to say something stupid, aren't you?"

before you could even process what was happening or why he suddenly put money on the table, he grabbed your hand, pulled you closer, and said,

"girl, i'm gonna marry you."

—☆

("three thousand yen? i've never put that much in the douchebag jar!" satoru protested while you sat on the common room couch and giggled.

apparently, that jar of money that you had been curious about before was instituted because satoru kept saying and doing pretty douchey things, and suguru felt he and shoko should be financially compensated.

"dude, you just met her today! that was like the douchiest thing i've ever heard!" shoko argued. suguru nodded. "i was willing to let the pickup line you said earlier slide, but..that? unacceptable."

satoru pouted and dejectedly stuffed 3,000 yen into the already overflowing jar.

at that moment, for whatever reason, you decided that maybe he wasn't so bad, after all.)

you and satoru's shared apartment

(2009, 8:54pm)

"i think weirdly enough that was the first time i kind of started liking you."

he sits up in shock "what? THAT? can we make it a cuter moment please?"

"nope, no can do." you grin brightly. "you know..now that i think about it maybe we should bring that jar back.." "no! im better now. im a changed man."

you laugh, "the kids would get a kick out of it."

for a moment it's quiet and then.

"i wasn't kidding back then." satoru says in a suddenly serious tone.

"i know you weren't." you smile.

– i'll ask her again soon

– this time i'll say yes.

a/n: i hope you liked this! i kind of wish it was longer, but i also dont wanna add anything just for the sake of it! the new girl reference is one of my favorite moments in the show, actually! and it also seemed like something gojo would do LOL

#☆ — stars writings #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #fanfic #gojo fanfic #jjk fanfic

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nardo-headcanons · 2 months

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About Shisui Uchiha

just some shower thoughts i had about him. this is very headcanon heavy and rather vague at times.

tw for talks about suicide, manipulation, trauma, abuse, etc

tagging: @uchihaharlot @pxssy-stuntin-for-itxchi @lalalover33-blog @burning-bubble @naruto-scribblings-j

Unlike Itachi, who was born during the last year of the great Shinobi war, it is safe to say that Shisui was born while it was still going on. So naturally, he was exposed to the worst side humanity had to offer, most likely traumatizing him in the process.

His mother is never mentioned, so I assume she must have died during his birth or in his early childhood. His father, most likely ravaged by illness before he even entered the battlefield, lost his left leg, leaving him with phantom pains and high medical bills. As a born shinobi, Shisui’s father lacked the funds and education to pursue any other path of career, leaving his child as the only breadwinner of his family. Shisui probably had to spend his entire childhood and youth slaving away just to keep his father and himself afloat. Additionally, he took care of a terminally i’ll man who didn’t even remember his son’s name. Of course, this would lead to Shisui being very perceptive of the psychology of the ones around him, how else could he search for a sign of his father’s state health changing?

Shisui often spent time wondering what it’s like to have a family, a family in which he is allowed to be what he is: a child. Someone who is cared for, someone who is looked after. Despite being an Uchiha, his relation to Kagami Uchiha - the Uchiha allied with Tobirama, the very person planting the seed for all the discrimination the Uchiha would face, up to a point of their genocide, would probably lead him to feel ostracized within his own clan. And like everyone of us, he is trying to find the balance between individuality and belonging - the latter being the one he lacked. His abilities as an Uchiha become a defining factor of identity for him, leading to him being willing to let a comrade via withholding aid - just on the basis of that comrade potentially being stronger than him. Once his comrade dies, the young Uchiha is ravaged by feelings of guilt, by the awareness that the blood of his friend is on his hand.

But nevertheless, he is blessed with a new Uchiha ability - the mangekyou sharingan. His entire life he had to enter a role he didn’t want to be in, robbing him of memories he could have had. So what better mangekyou ability to have than the one that alters memories, and, in extension, alters your role in the world?

Shisui’s resentment against his Uchiha identity starts bubbling up inside him again, and being a shinobi who frequents B- or even A-Rank missions as a literal teenager (how else would you pay for your father’s medical debt as a shinobi, eh?) he was closer to the village from the start. Hailed as the strong and talented Uchiha boy, taking on missions to serve his village, behind the facade a broken kid forced to grow up way too quickly. His first serious doubts begin when he is forced to kill Mukai Kohinata, a direct reflection of Shisui, just the other way around: a father wanting nothing but funds to care for his dying child.

Things don’t get better when the tension between the village and the Uchiha rise. His own brethren or the collective - who will you support? Getting into Shisui’s mind and twisting his perception of what’s right is an easy game for Danzo, almost too easy. A civil war breaking out in Konoha would be a repetition of his initial trauma - the one thing Shisui wants to prevent the most. Shisui starts feeling conflicted, until he finally stumbles upon THE miracle solution: forcefully keeping up the status quo by manipulating the leader of the revolution - an unpleasant reality, but better than the Uchiha clan’s extermination or a civil war breaking out, right? To Shisui, atleast. And honestly, who could blame him? As a ninja who graduated young, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he lacks the methodical and critical thinking outside of the parameters of violence and manipulation he is used to from Danzo and the shinobi world.

And then it happens. He agrees to suppress the revolution of his own ethnic group just for the sake of keeping up a false sense of peace, and suddenly, his co conspirators, the man that is supposed to be guarding him, leading him, suddenly abandons him and steals his eye? Shisui’s entire identity as the Uchiha boy from Konoha collapses and he doesn’t know what to think or believe anymore. In his last moments, he becomes aware of the utter pointlessness of the killing and the brutality of the shinobi system, the sheer feeling of powerless overwhelming him. At this point, death seems like a sweeter option than continuing to live powerlessly in such a system.

Shisui is a skilled ninja, but not always in contact with his emotions. Therapy is a rarity in the leaf, with even the counselors themselves not being able to give advise outside of the parameters of what’s “acceptable” in the hidden leaf.

So, what better way to hide your agony than behind a -albeit manufactured- goofy smile?

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto imagines #naruto fanfiction #shisui #shisui headcanons #shisui uchiha #anti shinobi system #anti hiruzen #anti danzo #anti tobirama #anti will of fire #anti konoha #naruto meta

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fantastic-nonsense · 4 months

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im soso curious, i need to know... why is tim a child of apollo? bless u for not going with fanon<3

[referencing how I decided who the Batfam's godly parents were in my PJO AU WIP]

People like to sort him into Athena because DC has spent the last few years emphasizing how smart he is and how he's better at the more “cerebral” and detective aspects of the job. But Tim’s most prominent pre-reboot traits are not actually his detective or tech skills: they’re his reckless, impulsive bravery, his ability to analyze and think very quickly on his feet in dangerous situations, and his "power of friendship" idealism.

He's a people person; it's one of his greatest strengths. Tim is like...physically incapable of going somewhere and not making at least one friend while he's there. Hell, when he ran off to travel the world on his "fuck you, I'll find Bruce on my own" trip he still managed to pick up his own little crew of assassin friends along the way. Making connections and talking to people and relying on others for help is how he successfully navigates being a hero, as he himself notes on multiple occasions:

"Did you think I was going to run all around the city, desperately trying to save everyone all by myself? I'm not Batman. I have friends." -Red Robin #12

Tim loves his family and friends, and losing so many people he's close to within such a small timespan sends him off the deep end in multiple ways (trying to clone Kon, fighting Dick to get the Lazarus water, isolating himself from everyone, fighting with Dick and running off to find proof that Bruce was alive on his own, etc).

At his core, Tim is an idealist who becomes a hero for no other reason than a) a broken man needs help and a broken family needs mending and b) if Dick won't go back to being Robin he might as well do it, because someone has to be Robin. He sees what will happen if Bruce stays on the path he's on and says "no. I'm not going to let that happen." He's a hero because someone has to help, and he's able and available to do so. He doesn't work on cold hard logic and facts. He works off of gut instinct and then uses his big brain to go find facts and logical conclusions that support those instincts.

Tim was never going to be an Athena child.

So I started thinking. At first, I wanted him to be a Hermes child; it seemed right to frame his parentage around being the child of the messenger of the gods given how he became Robin. But that's not really him, either. Apollo, within the scope of both classical mythology and the PJO-verse's depiction of him and his children, fits him better.

While modern culture tends to zero in a lot on Apollo's status as the god of music, poetry, and the arts (for good reason), Apollo in classical Greek mythology was first and foremost known as the god who (for lack of a better term) helps his people. He's the god of the sun, of light, of medicine and healing, of prophecy, of truth.

Tim comes into Bruce's life at a time when Bruce is at his absolute lowest point. Jason is dead. He's estranged from Dick. He's failing in his mission to save Gotham. He's highkey passively suicidal. And Tim takes it upon himself to fix that. And he does it by being a solid, bright, stable presence in Bruce's life and an extremely blunt, truthful messenger of the future he sees: Batman needs a Robin, and if Bruce doesn't have one he's going to die.

And I didn't abandon his intelligence in the calculations: Apollo is also the god of rational thinking, order, and knowledge, contrasting and working in harmony with Dionysus (the god of irrationality, chaos, and passion). He was also known to be the god whose job it was to interpret the will of Zeus to humankind, which I thought was appropriate for a boy who spends quite a lot of his time being the living communication translator between Bruce and everyone around him.

So. Apollo child.

............also I thought it was funny to make the god of youth the father of the boy DC refuses to allow to age.

#I also have a thread of connection running between Apollo being the god of plagues and Tim getting the Clench in Contagion #but that was kind of an aside to the whole thing #tim drake #tim drake meta #dc comics #bruce wayne #batman #my writing #batfam pjo au

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wordsformizu · 2 months

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Your Father's Daughter

Mizu x Reader story

Word count: 2.6K

Chapter 5

You considered the bell wrapped around his energetic apprentice a genuine blessing as it would have probably been harder to find this samurai. He moves with ease, slipping in and out of crowds like wind and never draws much attention to himself. You haven't even gotten the chance to hear his voice, and you wondered if he was possibly mute and that’s why he had the bobbling man accompany him. He looked in no one specific direction, and kept his head lowered most of the time, but judging from his actions day by day you could tell he was a determined man on a mission.

Since you had found him a few days ago, you made sure to watch his every move. What he did throughout the day, what he ate, even where he decided to rest his head. He would consume his food with a rapid speed that peeked your interest into his past. You knew that look on his face, the glint of light in his eyes that only lasted brief moments, the firmness of his grip on his bowls. He ate like a child who didn't have much. A child that wasn't used to the belly filling joy of a warm meal made with love and talent. That kind of habit is hard to break, especially without the proper etiquette training. You noted this privately, in case you needed it. His rest periods were short, as he often stayed up most nights. Staring off somewhere in a corner or out into the dark night. You wished to catch him training. His swordsmanship must be impressive as it was rumored that he had beat the Four Fangs, but you hadn't been blessed with the opportunity to see him in combat. You hoped you would so you could study his movements and save that knowledge for later. If you knew how he fought, you could adjust your fighting to his movements and one up him or escape in case of an emergency. Yes, your father told you to return home and you would, but not without any useful information on the samurai.

For a while, you wondered if he knew the location of your father. He was heading somewhere, but you just didn't know exactly where. The same as you, he had a mission to accomplish but his direction was unknown to you and he was unknown of you. You were confident in your fathers protection of himself and his residence, there was no way he would find him so swiftly and easily and even if he had he would be a fool to try and enter. They’d kill him before he could enter. If it was up to you, you’d kill before he even approached the door.

You slept lightly, you followed closely, you ate when he ate, and listened to his apprentice speak when it seemed he wasn't. You became his shadow. No, closer than his shadow and even less noticeable. You became the air that surrounded him with the desire to suffocate his lungs with every breath he took.

“And Master I would suggest that on our adventure, we stop by a few of the places that I’ve heard about-” His apprentice was speaking to him with the excitement of a pup and you often wondered how old he was. He was so youthful in presence, but he had to be older than the man he looked up to figuratively. You wondered how they had ever bumped into each other, and what an odd dynamic duo they had. For someone so cold and distant to attract this childish grown man was beyond you. They were opposites in every way, and yet they were inseparable. Your father wouldn't have liked him. He would have been polite, but would have him disposed of him swiftly. There was no room at the table for men who couldn't be men; because he was associated with the man labeled ‘demon’ you decided you didn't like him either. What hand would he have in the attempted assassination of your father, you thought to yourself.

“There's a sento not too far from here. I hear they have the softest yukata that you could just fall asleep in.” The apprentice coo’d.

“I bet if we paid real good money, they would let you have your own area so your secret would be saf-” He was silenced by a sharp head turn, followed by an even sharper glare. The blood under his skin made his face shine a bright red of shame, and his eyes lowered themselves to the ground, no longer able to meet his Master’s blue’s. He had said something out of turn, and was now being punished with an even colder silence than before. After a few quiet moments, a deep sigh was released and he soon stood from the table to leave the room. No words were spoken from the apprentice, so you followed the samurai to wherever his next location would be. It seemed to be outside so you made your way around the building side. A long time ago, you learned to climb buildings and with years of practice you could find your way to a rooftop with ease. Here is where you decided to watch from as he walked into the fresh air.

He removed his hat which allowed you to view more of the face he preferred to keep hidden. His features were angular, and even though he was hidden in his old re-stitched clothing that shielded his body like a tent, he was built very slender for a man, making him sharp appearing. You could tell he was young, but the furrowed scowl that seemed to never leave his face aged him. His features were a combination of two people who didn't come from the same land. You could tell he was of Japanese descent with his dark hair and tint to his skin, but something was off. Though his hair was the color of ravens feathers, it would lay in a strange way, curling here and there; and his nose was sharper, protruding his face outwards. The most obvious were his eyes. They were rounder, and blue like the men had said they would be in the Kamizumii’s residency. A light piercing blue that reminded you of when the ocean calms, but nothing about what layed in his eyes were calm. There was no rest in his soul, and no shade of glasses could hide that. What secret could he have and was it what made him this way? Why couldn't it have been brought up in the previous conversation when it was just the two of them. You could have used whatever that information was, but would it have been useful? It didn't surprise you that he would carry a secret or two. A man of his status and reputation probably bore many, but what could he be hiding. He was very odd to you. You prided yourself in your observation skills and how easy it was reading the souls of others. It’s what made you so skilled at the tasks your father would send you out to complete. Now you crouched on the rooftop of a small Inn with coldness biting at your fingertips and little to no information on this person. Another person you had never seen before, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't be around for long. You couldn't wait until he was no longer a problem.

The bells of his apprentice rang, alerting you both of his presence. He didn't turn to the sound, keeping his eyes forward and off into the distance.

“Master..” The sound of shame followed behind his words as he called out to the man.

“I’m finished with the meal. I think you will be pleased with this one.”

A few moments of silence passed before he let out a sigh, lifted his frames back onto the bridge of his nose, and turned back in the direction of the building.

It continued this way for a few more days. You trailed behind them as they moved further and further into the distance. You found yourself in a new town at one point, but it never brought you any anxious feeling of losing your way back. There was nothing that could stop you from finding your way back home, back to your father.

Every town was practically the same. Busy adults, unattended children, loud, commotion, slipping into the night. You expected this one to be like any other which was a comfort to you. You could focus on gathering more information on your target rather than watching your surroundings for any surprises.

They moved how they did in the town before. Swift, cautious, one silent and the other speaking. The large one had spoken to a few strangers along the way, asking the town dwellers questions or just carrying a small conversation with whoever would. He was more than happy to carry a conversation, and you could see it on his face. You wondered how someone like him could trail behind this silent stick of a person and still maintain a smile on one's face. All he did was scowl and glare, headed down the path of murder and leaving behind destruction and chaos. With each light footstep, he tore apart families and replaced those empty spots with grief. His greed for blood and death was unquenchable. He walked in a direction you didn't understand, and his cloud of an apprentice floated behind him obediently. You came to the conclusion a while ago that he possibly followed him for two reasons. He was forced to, or he didn't have a mind of his own. Sometimes the conversations he would bring up made you think it was the latter.

Sometimes thinking about your target sent your mind into a dark spiral. The lack of information you were getting was infuriating. You didn't even know what his voice sounded like. Was he a mute? Two disabled men aiding each other throughout Japan perhaps? What would he have said if he could speak?

It didn't help that the street they had decided to take was extra crowded today. People, horses, carriages, children dashing between the legs of all and their giggles adding to the noises in the air. It was all becoming too much for your senses, but you had to stay focused. You slipped behind buildings, stepped over children, bumped into strangers who were too busy to notice you as another human being, but you still couldn't get as close as you would have liked to. You were peering over the shoulders and leaning by the sides of many strangers and it was beginning to make your skin hot. You wouldn't lose them, but God if you did in this crowd…

You got another chance to glance at them behind some strangers' sleeved arms. The large bubble leaned down, his head tilted towards his Master as he muttered into his ears. The samurai was speaking. After days of following him in mutual silence, and he decided now was the time to speak. In the middle of a busy crowded street where you were too far to hear what was being said. You felt your eyebrow twitch in frustration, and you lowered your head, ready to pierce through the crowd from any angle. Getting close had become an even more important priority and was now on the top of your list. Now that you knew he wasn't a mute, you didn't want to miss out at another chance to hear him speak.

The scents of all the different people swarmed you, and their clothes surrounded you with all their different textures but determination had taken foot. You would swim through this crowd and catch up to the soul-stained Samurai and his apprentice.

“Excuse me, Miss.” A voice rang behind you.

His apprentice stood a few inches from you, towering over you with great height and a warm smile on his face. His presence startled you, and you were rarely caught off guard.

“My master and I are looking for this sento building here. He said we could go if I knew where it was, and I don’t know where it is-” he rambled while your mind tried to refocus and make sense of this. He was just a few feet in front of you, standing right behind your target. How was he able to slip through the crowd unnoticed? How was he able to get to you so quickly?

The realization connected in your mind, and sent a rush of cold through your blood streams, giving your body a sudden chill. You didn’t hear the bell. You couldn't hear the bell, and when you glanced down at his ankles you felt your stomach sink. The bell wasn't there. Did it fall off?

“My master said I should ask the locals and said you looked like you would know where we could find one! He’s awfully tired and it’s up to me as his app-”

The bell was removed. It clicked for you then. The roles had been reversed. While this giant baby man stood before you rambling about pleasing his master, you could hear your heartbeat in your skull and your blood in your ears. Your eyes dashed from one side of the street to the next.

“Oh no, miss, are you okay? I mean no harm! If you know where we can find one-”

If he knew where his apprentice was to send him in your direction, he knew where you were. How was he able to pick up on you? Especially in this crowd. Was it here or earlier? Where did you mess up? You don’t mess up. You're your father’s little mouse, but most importantly the shadow of the sun. This was your playing field and you're skilled in this. No one had been able to catch you and live. You started to notice something else wasn't right about this. He was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't in the spot he was before, and he was nowhere near his apprentice.

A bell. Small, but noticeable. Right by your ear coming from the alley you stood by. Each delicate ring lowered your body temperature.

You turned your body, prepared to dash through the crowd. You had already formed an escape plan as your brain was always ready for these moments. Shifting your weight, you began your run but you only took two steps before firm hands gripped your arms and lifted your body into the air. It was so fast it almost put you into shock. You were being dragged in the direction of the alley, into its darkness. This wouldn't be where you’d die. In an alley covered in mud and flies like a piece of forgotten meat. Lifting your legs, you decided to make him dragging you to your next location as difficult as possible. You adjusted your body, turning as sharply as possible in hopes to fight his grasp and swung your foot upwards. You’d propel off his leg and use the momentum to make contact with his face to catch him off his guard and hopefully drop you. You were the perfect size for moves like this, fast and very flexible. If anyone could pull this off, it was you and it had worked before, removing you from the grasps of enemies and stunning them. While you were mid-air, he turned with you and used your weight against you to tackle and pin you down with his chest, crushing the air out of you through your back. With a loud grunt coming from the both of you, you made contact with the ground quickly, and your vision began to darken.

“Master! I think she was about to tell me-..”

#your fathers daughter #yourfathersdaughter #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu x reader #writing #bes mizu #blue eye samurai fanart #bes x reader #fanfiction #mizu x fem!reader #mizu fanfic #mizu x akemi #mizu brainrot #fanfiction writer

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shidouryusm · 5 months

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Ghost town of youth - Suguru x reader

w/c -> 1.2k

contents -> bittersweet, angst, lots of metaphor and sea references, ig that's all

a/n -> idk man I just had a random wave of sadness about suguru and my tears wrote it. If y'all like it please support me via reblogs and comments :) also first time wrote geto idk whether I did a good job or not but I do love the lil sea metaphors here teehee. not proofread

The air brushes past you, little beads of salt sticking to your face and the skin of your lips. The sand below dips your heels deep into their abyss while the pull of the saltwater sweeps the particles back and forth in that white bed of grains. You feel the briney air kiss the strands of your hair as each of the thread dances to the unheard song of the dusk.

The sound of waves are muted, almost too quiet to hear as they break against your ankles, resembling foams of soaps clinging to your feet submerged right where the shore begins. The ambience was scenic; the scent of the sea alluring to bask in, but there laid something that amplified the beauty of this nature more.

Before you, was a sight that could only be called righteous – unadulterated and wholesome. Pure and tranquil. Far from any darkness that looms out there.

The girls were silhouetted by the dying sun, their little figures prancing around the darkening sea, their pigtails dances along the motion. And behind them, you see him – arms outstretched, chasing the girls as they squeal and run and run further away from him. Their laughter doubles in pitch and happiness as he makes some kind of gurgling sound, imitating a monster.

The chuckles of the two girls mixes with the breeze, creating a song even more melodious to tune into. Your lips curl into a comforting smile as their giggles mends your heart a little more than the day before.

Suguru has left his monk attire at home, rather donning himself in a blue hawaiian shirt. He sends a glance across your way, eyes crinkled shut and a smile that translates to save me from this. You smile back, daring yourself to not show the inner turmoil creeping up on your face while you admire them from afar.

It has been four years ever since Mimiko-Nanako stepped into your life and even though the aftermath of their entrance has been ugly, their simple presence and smiles were like bandaids on the scarred wounds. Like anchors holding both of your boats in an unrestrained sea.

But as much as they are a blessing, a hidden, fragmented part of your heart dares to speak out – wishing Suguru had never accepted that mission. That way he wouldn’t have to see their helpless faces smushed against each other, looking up at him in horror, with their little bodies trembling. Maybe that would have saved Suguru from the apocalypse he set into motion himself.

Maybe today under the setting embers of the sun, you would be laughing with Satoru, Shoko and Nanami.

Maybe then, Suguru wouldn’t have to creep up to you, farway in Sendai during your mission, offering you a portal to a completely different life– a life facing against the very people you once called home.

You were ordered for immediate report on the sight of this man but seeing him in flesh had left your body to stand where it was. Eyes drinking him from head to toe.

Was it your body that responded or the thrumming heart of yours that was branded by his name forever? You never questioned it. You never felt the need to because from that day onwards, Mimiko-Nanako had found another parent and jujutsu world lost another one.

You missed Satoru. His obnoxious laughter, his lame but unnecessary sunglass collections that he possessed. Was he still this haughty or the loss of his dearests had left him in a loophole. Forced him to take responsibilty and raise a generation of strongest sorceres? You missed Shoko and the stench of the cigarettes she pulled out at the most random places, attracting glares of surprise and offence. Does she still smoke just like Iori drinks in secrecy? Heck you even missed Mei’s random bets with alarming amounts of yen and Nanami’s exasperated sighs. You missed everything. You missed everyone.

And most of it all, you missed your Suguru. You missed the way his eyes used to twinkle at your random dates across Shinjuku. You missed his smile before he executed on planning devious pranks on you, with Satoru, only to later coax you with sweet words, kisses and hugs.

You missed the genuinity of his smile. A smile that was robbed by the world. A smile robbed from you. You failed to protect him in your heart and now he has crumbled to pieces, along with the walls of your heart that promised his security.

Slammed himself into a realm of extreme ideology that you still can’t bring yourself to accept. You don’t speak about it. Your blind acceptance was a testament of your loyalty to him. Your love that continued to grow only, swallowing you like a boa constrictor. You know his path is wrong. It is bloody and it’s killing every last bit of light in him, along with you. You clutch your chest as if holding your heart physically could help it from shattering apart.

You haven’t used jujutsu technique ever since that day. Suguru has accepted it. Upon enduring the death of his closed ones, your death would make him lose every resolve that is holding him by the thread to not go on a rampage.

But how much of this can you tolerate? How many sleepless nights would it take on your end to finally stand on the line Suguru started his journey?

Your closed eyes didn’t sense his presence near you until large frame of his hands cages you in his hold, his mild scent wafting in your nose along with the oceany smell.

“Anything on your mind?” his soft voice reaches your ear and the knife in your heart twists a little bit more. His head rests against your shoulder, little tufts your hair tickling your skin and suddenly you are teleported to the blue youthful days. Summer beach dates and hidden makeout sessions.

Only if you could have been saved.

You shake your head, leaning more into his touch while both of you watch your girls play, like a family promised of happiness. His embrace was the embodiment of chalk and cheese– with the warmth that served like a blanket in the chilly air yet the bloody coldness feeling like hugging a teddy bear fashioned with shards of glass. He holds you a little bit tighter, and you wonder whether he knows the dirty game of predicament your heart plays on you everyday.

He probably does. your silent sobs never goes unheard in his ears. his heart aches for you but he knows where your love lies. Where your heart lies. Anchored right against him. the only thing he can wait for is to let it rust. To let you strengthen yourself on your own in this doomed world. Even without your gallantry, your abandonment from jujutsu, he is assured about your support. Your love for Mimiko-Nanako and for him is what he may fight and die for.

You watch Suguru drag his feet against the wet sand, absentmindedly trailing a path that you followed suit, your feet behind him on the white trail. He chuckles at your doing while you chime in, both of you indulging in a silly act of your own while your bodies flush against each other. Minds racing with thoughts but reaching one common destination - each other.

The sunset is beautiful and you wish time stalled here, you wished for the water to be this calm and you wished this little bubble of family remained as it is – playing in the ebbing waves under the twilight sky painted in the lightest pink. You know you haven’t caught up to him. Still following him just like the trails of the sand you both created. Maybe you never will. But moments like these where your heart aches for him and you are sent into the ghostown of his past, you can snuck in the happiness you had felt in the long lost youth.

Who knows? Maybe Suguru will too.

comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated

dividers from @/cafekitsune

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strawberrystepmom · 5 months

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yuji x f!reader 🩷 reader has defined characteristics and a defined ct, yuji and reader are both students (reader is a second year), a certain meddling sensei who may or may not be named shmendy can’t mind her business. 3.5k of hurt/comfort fluff.

divider by @/cafekitsune!!!!

“Hey Yuji?”

The voice of the second year sensei accompanies a knock at his door frame and he slides the shoji open, smiling at the sight of the woman standing outside of his door. He thinks he already knows what you’re here about but avoids giving away too much of his concern, tipping his head and leaning against the wood.

“What’s up?”

She smiles at him and pats his shoulder reassuringly but her face falls quickly, arms folding over her chest. The tension in the air is unspoken but they both know what the concern is - you. You’ve distanced yourself from the small network of support you have amongst your peers and instructors and now comes the real challenge.

How do they get you back?

“Have you talked to ___ lately?”

He shakes his head and she doesn’t fail to notice the way that sadness seeps into every little dimple and crease on his face, remembering all too well how it felt to be in his position when she was a student herself, caring so deeply but unsure of how to show it thanks to the awkwardness of youth. She’s been in both of your positions before, the one caring and the one hurting, and she hopes that age has granted her the wisdom to find the perfect balance of them both.

“No, I haven’t. She won’t respond to my messages.”

The second year sensei nods and smiles sadly, digging her phone out of her pocket and pushing a few buttons while Yuji watches and wonders what’s happening. Her thumbs move quickly and her brow furrows and she looks up with a half smile.

“You know what Gojo-sensei used to do for me when I was struggling?” The young man shakes his head but notices the faint dusting of pink across her cheeks even mentioning his sensei. Love spreads like wildfire around here, he thinks, and it’s beautiful to witness but it’s painful when you find yourself falling victim to a beautiful girl with big round eyes and cheeks and smile so bright it could bring the sun to her knees when she blesses him with it.

All he can think about is you. His heart threatens to burst constantly, to overflow like a leaky dam and cause a flood of affection, but he swallows it the best that he can. Right now his main concern is making sure that you are okay above all, well enough to keep going through the difficult days that come and go.

Despite how jumbled his thoughts are and how heavy his heart is thinking about you, he shifts his attention back to the woman standing across from him and keeps his temple pressed against the door frame. Maybe she’ll have the answers on how to help you, or at least ease your pain a little bit.

“He used to make me leave campus. Sometimes he’d lie and make up a mission, sometimes he’d just drag me along with him and I’d wordlessly follow along with whatever he cooked up but it always helped.” She looks faraway, as if it’s painful to put herself back in those shoes she got rid of many years ago. The two of you are so similar she understands how you’re feeling but doesn’t want to risk being pushy or over the top so she plays it cool and shrugs what she’s saying off. “It always made me smile.”

Yuji nods, able to read between the lines immediately. She looks down at her phone and conceals a half smile, pressing the device against her mouth.

“The three of us are going on a mission today.” Yuji raises his eyebrows in surprise but realization dawns quickly and he nods, understanding what she’s saying. She pulls her phone away from her face and slips it into her pocket. “We are going to Tsukiji to patrol for a potential grade three curse spotted around the food stalls, understood?”

Yuji is not the tough sell on leaving today but she leaves him with a pat on the back and shoves him into his room, sliding the door shut behind him before walking down the corridor to your room, taking a deep breath before knocking on the door in the same fashion.

“What?”

She laughs and you perk up slightly at her voice, sticking your head up from where it was resting on your desk with your notebook opened in front of you. It probably doesn’t serve you to sit here and stare at your dark menagerie yet you do, glancing at their faces and their hands and their half shaped forms until you fear you’re the one turning into something terrifying.

“We have been called on a mission. Me, you, and Yuji.”

A gut feeling tells you that she’s planning something yet you stand, slippered feet sliding toward the door. You slide the shoji open and attempt a scowl despite the smiling and hopeful face at your door, her head tipped to the side as it always is.

“Hi sunshine,” she teases and you groan, rolling your eyes and moving to shut the door again. She puts her hand on the frame and shakes her head, holding it open. “Nope. I’m flexing my muscles as your sensei today and your attendance is mandatory.”

She has been allowing you to tune into classroom days via your computer, perhaps a little too indulgent of this current stormy mood in her quest to be as accommodating and understanding as possible, but it appears the extension of her grace ends today with a wave of her manicured fingers. You blink at her incredulously and sigh, preparing to argue but she stops you with a shake of her head.

“We’re meeting in the common room at 10.”

You think back to what time it was when you remember checking the time last and it was just approaching 8:30. Your sensei digs her phone out of her pocket again and the screen lights up, showing you both that the hour has ticked to 8:45 without much happening between. You sigh again, slumping where you stand, trying to think of a way you can fake a stomach ache or a migraine or anything.

“Go, get ready. It’s gonna be fine.”

Easy for her to say considering she isn’t going to be forced to sit in the back of a cramped car with her crush for the entire ride to wherever she’s decided you’re going and you roll your eyes, turning on your heel and she slides the door shut behind you. You groan as soon as it settles in the frame and you hear footsteps retreating, walking to your closet to pull the uniform you haven’t worn since the last time you went to class a week ago.

“Damn it,” you mutter, pulling down your shirt and jacket and inspecting them for wrinkles. Why do you even care? It’s not like you want to impress anyone, yet you smooth a pleat out of the front of your skirt before tossing it over your arm along with the rest of your clothing and heading toward the showers, Yuji popping his head out of his room to catch your attention along the way.

“Hey!”

He beams at you and you find it hard to deny him a smile in return, giving him something small and noncommittal. He’ll remember it forever despite how carelessly you tossed it in his direction, the little curve in your cheek and of your lower lip, but he tries to play it cool by rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t stop walking, pushing forward to get ready to meet this looming ridiculous deadline and before you know it, it’s 9:50 and you are padding across the wooden floors on socked feet and into the common room where Yuji and your sensei wait with twin smiles.

“Ready to go?” Your sensei asks and you nod, standing on her side and opposite Yuji who keeps looking down to steal glances at you. You don’t meet his eyes but you can tell what he’s searching for, confirmation that you’re okay, and you aren’t ready to give it to him just yet.

It feels overwhelming to be out of your room and into the world, an autumn day that hasn’t quite turned into winter yet greeting you outside of the doors of the building that houses all the student dorms, and your sensei pulls her jacket around her body and shivers despite the sun burning above. It’s a beautiful day, just chilly, and Yuji finally speaks as your sensei takes her distance ahead of the pair of you, stepping quickly in the direction of where Nitta stands, twirling her keys around her finger.

“I’m happy to see you,” he admits and it makes you look away. How can he be so kind no matter how cold of a shoulder you shove in his direction?

“I don’t know why you would be.”

He laughs despite the distinct lack of humor in your words and you watch your sensei appear further and further away, conversing casually with Nitta while awaiting the two of you who seem to be walking in slow motion compared to her own quick steps.

“Well, I am. I feel so much better when you’re around, nobody else gets my jokes.”

Again, you aren’t sure why anyone would say that about you but it makes you feel warm nevertheless, cheeks heating and your eyes rapidly searching for anything to focus on besides the pink haired young man next to you. If you look at him for too long you’ll start to soften, to thaw out and let him in, and that’s the last thing you want.

Your sensei glances over her shoulder and swings her arm, motioning for the two of you to hurry up, and you make a face at her that she can see even from a distance. She feigns shock, just like Gojo-sensei would, and you roll your eyes, daring to let a little smile show itself on your face. Yuji catches it and smiles with great affection written all over his face, increasing the pace of his steps but still stopping to wait for you periodically.

He’s so effortlessly sweet it should make you angry yet you feel yourself soften further, arriving to where the two women awaiting your arrival stand. Your sensei stares at her phone before dropping it into her pocket and Nitta pops her gum, continuing to twirl her keys like an insubordinate teenager. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who is in charge and who is following around here and you shake your head at the sorry sight of the two of them.

“So here’s the plan,” your sensei starts, hands waving around. “We’re going to Tsukiji to check out reports of a spirit lingering around food stalls. Nitta-san and I will handle the food stalls, the two of you are going to be checking the perimeter around Hamarikyu to see if you see anything suspicious.”

You wish that the unmitigated gall of the woman standing in front of you were less obvious but she doesn’t turn to look at you. She knows you’ve caught onto what she’s trying to do and that you’ll only make her suffer with a cool glance if she shifts her gaze your direction so she continues, opening the passenger side car door.

“Let’s go kids! We have curses to catch.”

The two of you walk toward the car and Yuji doesn’t linger by your side this time, opting instead to walk ahead and open the door on the rear passenger side for you with an easy going smile. You have a snide comment about being able to handle it on the tip of your tongue but you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and smile gratefully instead, sliding onto the seat and letting him close the door behind you.

In a moment, he slides in next to you and your skirt and tight covered thigh presses against his uniform plant clad one and your face heats up again. You wish you’d stop having this reaction to him, that you were less susceptible to how being close to him makes you feel, but you're not and no amount of wishing is going to change it. You just have to continue to steel yourself to his charm.

How hard could it possibly be?

The vehicle takes off, a little digital voice sounding through the speakers giving directions while Nitta and your sensei talk amongst themselves about happenings around the city and with the other sorcerers. Gojo and Kusakabe are arguing again although your sensei insists it isn’t over the crush each of the men has on her, Nitta talks about her brother in Kyoto and that they’re holding yet another potential round of try outs to find Maki and Mai’s cousin Naoya a wife. The happenings are treated as little more than petty gossip but Yuji tips his head, overhearing them talk about the situation with the Zen’in clan.

“They’re…auditioning women to be his wife?”

He can hardly hide how this concept puzzles him, clearly foreign to the way clan politics work, and your sensei turns in her seat with a little smirk on her face that tells you she’s been buzzing to discuss this in particular with someone. You laugh despite yourself, familiar with the face she makes every time Maki or Nobara are sharing their gossip with her, and settle in your seat and let your thigh drift a little further toward Yuji’s. Your knees almost completely touch and he chokes on his saliva, playing it off with a cough.

“They have to because he’s absolutely horrible,” she starts before laughing and widening her eyes. “Years and years ago I went to one at the recommendation of the higher ups, right when I turned 18, and they’re still looking so that tells you how it’s going.”

It strikes you as odd that there are parts of your sensei’s life that you aren’t privy to given how eager she is to share every other detail including what she is eating for lunch and what shade her highlights are, but you tilt your head curiously, arching a brow.

“I won’t tell you what was said to me while I was there because I don’t want to taint little ears but know that it was as hostile as anything I’ve ever been told.

You make a note to ask Maki if she knows about this and hum, pocketing this information for later, and roll your eyes over the little ears comment. The two of you, you and Yuji, are nearly full blown adults despite her annoying insistence that the two of you are children at the end of the day every time you get reprimanded. She isn’t doing a very good job of preparing you for impending adulthood, humming while pointing out random landmarks across the highway, childlike chatter filling the car between her and Nitta and Yuji and….you.

“What do you think?”

Lost in your own thoughts you abandoned the discussion you were just listening to completely, glancing at the floorboards under your feet. Looking up and to your right, Yuji smiles.

“About what?”

Your sensei scoffs and you scoff back when she turns in her seat again to glance at you with a frown.

“Were you even listening to me?”

You shake your head and she scoffs but follows it with a smile, scrunching her nose. The car pulls off of a highway exit and a short distance away comes to a stop, Nitta expertly parking and shutting off the engine, ready to let you out at the food stalls.

“Well, you won’t have to for much longer because we’re here. I’m gonna be here and she’s going to take you to the gardens but we will meet back here no later than 3, do you understand?”

Yuji nods and you do as well, satisfying your nosy sensei who smiles and yells over her shoulder as she exits the vehicle.

“Call me if you need anything!

Shutting the door behind her, you both breathe a strange sigh of relief but feel your breath catch again realizing you’re all but practically alone despite Nitta’s presence. The gardens aren’t far from where she parked and in a flash, the two of you are being let out on the sidewalk and wishing her goodbye with a wave. The day is hers to do what she wants pending no danger and despite the claims that there may be a cursed spirit or two lingering in this area, you’re certain that the same is true for the two of you.

“Alright, if I were a cursed spirit, where would I hide?”

You wonder if Yuji has noticed that the two of you have been set up yet, given how his pretty golden eyes scan the area around the park and his mouth moves with each sight his eyes dance over, fall foliage decorating even the furthest corner of the little slice of paradise with red and yellow.

“Probably nowhere in this place,” you mutter and he laughs, taking small steps to keep the two of you moving to protect yourselves from the November chill. The gardens are vast and you feel a little overwhelmed by it all, especially given how you’ve felt recently.

Despite this, though, the sun shines and the leaves rustle every time the wind blows, reminding you how it feels to be alive. Walking in lockstep with Yuji, watching his eyes widen and his fingers point wildly at whatever he sees, reminds you of that further.

It’s good to be here and to face this day, to stretch your limbs and your mind, to feast your eyes with foliage and ducks floating effortlessly across the taut and glass-like surface of the pond you are taking the wooden bridge across, slowly, step by step.

“Do you think there’s actually a curse here?” Yuji asks and you laugh with your heart for the first time in a while, letting your hands dangle at your sides and your knuckles brush against his.

“No. There is almost certainly not a curse here.”

“Damn.”

Despite yourself, you laugh again and he joins you, beaming down at you like your own personal font of happiness.

“Well, since we have time to waste, wanna go to the tea ceremony?

You weren’t expecting him to ask but you nod just the same, unable to form words with how swollen and full of love your heart feels, gazing at the building that houses the informal ceremony close to where the two of you step off of the bridge. He nods excitedly, leading the way, and you stop him by clearing your throat.

“Hey Yuji?”

He tips his head and smiles at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and look away from him, glorious reprieve despite the way your heart pounds in your chest, and feel the need to be honest. To thaw a little further under the autumn sun, to let him in.

“Thank you for being here for me.”

A blush as pink as his hair spreads across the bridge of his nose and you smile to yourself, satisfied with the reaction.

#yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #kendall writes #written 4 my beloved mimi

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landofadonises · 3 months

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The Brawny Bunch - The Youngest Sons

Introducing the youngest of the brothers, Bobby & Cyrus!

The picturesque image of the Brawny family was most at risk when these two stallions entered the arena.

Bobby loved watching his big brothers and dads work out growing up, filling their personally outfitted garage with grunts and exertion, and he made it his mission to be the biggest one out of all of them. He started the bodybuilding club in high school, and took that reputation with him into college as he was always milling around trying to recruit others to follow their musclebound dreams. To make sure his image was that of an enthusiastic bodybuilder that wanted others to embrace the muscle, he rarely opted for shirts, and due to his dads' influence, the board never batted an eye.

Cyrus was just in it for the fun, naturally blessed with comparatively huge quads that he'd often offer as a seat to guys he found cute, talking it up with everyone and being a complete flirt. A complete social butterfly with a libido that'd make a Clydesdale tired, he didn't give two thoughts toward his schooling as much as skating by on comfortable C's. It wasn't uncommon in college for someone to be sitting in his lap as the class went on, both focusing in their own regards. While this irritated Mike, Clyde persuaded him to let Cyrus live his truth and to help him do that in whatever way he can, as they vowed to never suppress the personalities that emerged from their boys.

While they might not have transitioned into college with ribbons and awards like their older brothers, they were talks of the town in their own regards, and eventually were the catalyst for the Brawny family to become more of a town staple when it came to public influence and just how the youth in Braunsburg formed. Obviously, though, it was the Brawny Bunch that were the only ones exceeding much past 6 feet tall, let alone anyone ever being able to meet their average 8-to-9-foot statures.

#supertall #hugemuscle #plausiblesizedifference #brawnybunch #braunsburg

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dukejeyaraj · 6 months

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49 THINGS I AM GRATEFUL TO GOD FOR AS I TURN 49!

Duke Jeyaraj On 31 October 2023, I turn 49! I took time to recall 49 blessings He graciously sent into my life! The Lord Jesus “chose me in him before the foundation of the world, that I should be holy and blameless before him” (Eph. 1:4). He blessed me with a good missionary heritage through my parents, Mr. A. Jeyaraj and Mrs. Vimala Jeyaraj, Blessing Youth Mission missionaries. He gave me…

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#AAI #Allahabad Agricultural Insititute #Biography #Blessing Youth Mission #blessings #Christian Ministry #duke jeyaraj #duke jeyaraj life history #g4 mission #God&039;s grace #Life Story #SABC #SHUATS #Southern Asia Bible College #Testimony #V. T. Abraham #Youth Ministry

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cristianpaduraru · 1 year

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2nd Corinthians explained Suffering - Bilingual Bible reading 3nd week of 2023

2nd Corinthians explained Suffering – Bilingual Bible reading 3nd week of 2023

Peace friends, we read 2 Corinthians then meet online 2022-01-21 to share from the Scriptures + pray 🌏 EN RO SP https://relate4ever.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/How-to-Have-ORDER-In-Your-Life-from-Corinthians-Relate4ever.mp3 God bless you 🙏Thank you for your support Relate4ever Facebook Youtube Telegram

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serenescribe · 9 months

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had a really rough day. wanted to get out my feelings through writing. easier by the crane wives is a lilia song. enjoy c:

“I’ll be back soon, Silver,” Lilia whispers, kneeling down to press a kiss against his son’s forehead, one hand cupping his cheek. “Be good, alright? Remember your chores, and your—”

“And my exercises, I know,” Silver answers, smiling brightly at him. And oh, it makes Lilia’s chest ache so deeply, like a hand has grasped around his beating heart, fingers curling tighter and squeezing until his breath chokes in his throat.

Everything about the boy, the child he has taken in as his own, makes him feel so strongly — especially the silver strands of silken locks that frame his face, causing the aurora glint of his pupils to shine even brighter. It is a feeling that Lilia dubbed as a negative years ago, when he had picked up that wooden cradle in the woods and watched the baby tucked within it open its eyes — a reflection of a foe long since slaughtered, an enemy that makes Lilia’s blood boil with rippling rage.

But lately, he cannot help but feel as though the feeling, the emotion he keeps cradled within his heart, is shifting. When Silver was younger, Lilia had to leave the house over and over, taking a breather for himself as he quelled his roaring rage, the impetuous youthful general of his mind screaming for him to take the boy out. But now, when he ruffles the young boy’s hair, or opens his arms when he clings to him for a hug, all Lilia feels is a candlelight swell of something warmth — so small and delicate, as though a single breath can blow it out.

And so, with confusion misting his mind and emotions tangling into his chest, Lilia leaves, again and again.

He leaves, travels far and wide, under the guise of missions and quests, or, when he has no further excuse, for his own private purposes. Lilia steps away from the cottage he has slowly begun to consider a home, wraps his heart with powerful armour, tucks away those muddled feelings for later, preferably never. Lilia stays away long enough, feeling the wind against his face, smelling the salt of the seas, feeling the heat of the sun he’s never truly loved beating down on his skin.

And when his tasks are done, or when he cannot stay away any longer, he returns.

Each and every time he comes home, Silver greets him with a smile, arms outstretched for a hug. “I missed you, Papa,” he says so shyly as Lilia lifts him up, mirth trickling into each new reunion, casting the memories in sunny hues. “I’m happy you’re home.”

And what is Lilia to do, then, when his heart seizes at those words? The armour breaks apart, a burst of something strong and hot sweeping through him; he coos in response, praises how good Silver has been, taking care of the house, looking after himself, my, what a mature child he is! But Lilia has never returned the words that Silver always whispers to him whenever he gets sleepy and Lilia tucks him into bed; he turns his head to the side, light locks of hair splayed out over his scratchy pillow, lips parting to murmur, “I love you, Papa.”

Everytime he hears those words—

(And it is never only during their reunions, for Silver always tells him that, brimming with such love that it makes some younger part of him freeze up, locking in place, bile rising through his throat.)

—Lilia has to leave again.

Silver is seven now. He has grown so much in such a short time — thus is the fragility of humankind, Lilia muses to himself. He used to think of it as a blessing when Silver was but a baby, for it would cut short the number of years they had to spend together. But now?

Lilia isn’t sure what to think now.

(Or perhaps it is more like he refuses to admit the truth to himself.)

He swallows down the lump in his throat, sucking in a deep breath. “I trust you to take care of yourself, dear,” he says as brightly as he can manage, fingers pulling away as he reaches for the swinging clasp of his travelling cloak. Lilia adjusts it, ensuring the hood can cover his face — the sunlight has always been a blasted enemy of his, after all — but as he turns to leave…

A tug.

He pauses. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, Lilia’s eyes meet auroral pupils, wide eyes that gaze up at him as though he hung the stars.

“I love you, Papa,” Silver reminds him, shining so splendidly that it hurts. “Take care, okay?”

His ribs press in against his lungs, digging in tight, each breath shallow and raw.

“I will,” Lilia promises, voice shaky, forcing a smile that does not fit onto his face. “Thank you, Silver.”

And when he leaves again, walks the familiar path away from their home — and when has he begun to truly think of it that way? Lilia does not remember — Lilia’s steps grow faster and faster, breath catching in his throat until he’s running, practically flying, getting away as quickly as he can.

(For what reason does he run?

Is it because he cannot stand the sight of Silver, the boy who resembles the Dawn Knight to such an eerie extent?

Or is it because he’s unable to comprehend the possibility that he is getting attached?)

It is better to leave, again and again.

Until he can wrangle his feelings, until he can pick apart every flicker of doting warmth and every icy shard of contempt, until he can decide for himself that yes, he will leave or no, he will stay, permanently, irreversibly—

Lilia will wander the earth and hide the love that he feels, pushing it away until it becomes bearable enough for him to go home.

#my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #twst writing #twst fanfiction #requests and writing might slow down soon because of uni starting...#but thank you all for enjoying my writing so far. i really appreciate it #i had a rough day but it still makes me happy looking at the notifs for this blog #also the spoiler tags are literally for a passing mention of the dk... i'm being cautious ok #personal writing

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s3ibro · 1 year

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Hallowed

capitano x f! reader

800 words

warnings/tags: not beta read, but no other warnings <3

a/n: this was the first chapter of a fic I was gonna post to ao3 but like… i lost inspiration. im sorry y’all, i think imma stick to one shots. enjoy this tho :)

The Goddess of Love is not known for her forgiveness.

Nobody thinks twice when whispers reach Zapolyarny Palace of a woman in the countryside, some nobleman’s daughter, blessed by the heavens with the power of a vision and beauty beyond compare. They do not realize that some have begun to call her goddess. They do not realize that even amidst the Fatui footsoldiers, blasphemy abounds, and secret prayers are offered behind their masks not to their Tsaritsa, but instead to the Lady Krasota, pleading for her mercy in battles to come, or her blessing in endeavors of courtship.

Sandrone is the first to see. She sees all, hears all, and realizes what it means when victory toasts are made, “To our Lady, to beauty!”

Scouts report nothing when they return from the west; all they say as they kneel before the throne is how lovely it is, how gentle the snows and how quaint the towns.

They are beheaded, right there in the throne room. Tartaglia makes a fine executioner; one need not wipe hydro blades for bloodstains.

The Tsaritsa sends Capitano, the fearsome. She sends him with a small army, and with a mission to burn away the impurity of heresy. Always, he’s been a loyal dog. Her gift to him, a delusion of Geo, sways heavily on its chain as he marches through the early-spring snow.

The whispers and the screams have led him here, this provincial capital called Rybivo.

It is a silent advance to the lord’s mansion, broken only by the snap of ice sheets beneath soldiers’ boots. Capitano need not order his troops with words. When he walks, they march perfectly in his time, left, right, left; when he stops, they stop, snapping to a perfect ready.

There is a solid sound to his knock on your door, metal gauntlet against dark walnut wood; an ax against a chopping block.

Svetla Petrovna moves to open it, but just before she can reach the doorhandle, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder. In her eyes you see it, in your chest, you feel it: Fear. Something about this isn’t right.

“(y/n), who is at the door?” One of your older sisters calls from the foyer. You do not answer, because she already knows.

“I’ll answer it, Svetla,” You tell the servant girl. Her hand does not move from the doorhandle. “Svetla?”

“I won’t let them take you,” She says in a trembling tone, “You-- you are our Lady. Our goddess. They are nothing.”

“No!” You hiss, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her from the door. “No, I… I have a request.”

Her eyes, fawnlike with youth, are filled with tears and terrifying devotion.

“Anything for you.”

“Run out the kitchen door, then climb the courtyard wall to avoid the soldiers. Run home as fast as you can. You are not to return to the estate for a fortnight. When you come back, go up to my bedchamber and look in my wardrobe. Inside, you’ll find a stack of papers. I want you to burn them. Can you do that for me?”

Another knock. Your mind goes blank.

“Open the door.”

The man’s voice is slightly muffled, but even through the door you can hear the low, modulated quality it carries… and the threat.

Svetla sprints down the hall towards the kitchens. As soon as she’s past the threshold and round the corner, you open the doors.

A sudden urge to run; a scream forming at the back of your throat.

“I am Capitano, fourth of the Fatui Harbingers.”

Why?

“Yes, I-- It is an honor. What brings you to this tiny village, Lord Harbinger?”

You want to squirm as he cups your jaw in his massive hand, pulling you ever so slightly closer. Through the shadow of his helm, you cannot see his eyes, but you feel them, bouring into you like needles unto flimsy fabric. You hear your pulse in your ears, and each breath gently fogs in the early spring air. At last, he pulls away; the burning sensation of freezing metal lingers.

“I’m searching for a woman. One said to be more beautiful than the gods.”

Again, you feel his eyes rather than see them as they trail down your form.

“Because,” he says slowly, “Our lady the Tsaritsa does not stand for falsities. She is Schneznaya’s sole goddess. And no mortal, no matter how alluring, may ever surpass her.”

Capitano reaches for a strand of hair that has fallen from its place behind your ear, and returns it with surprising gentleness. His voice lowers to a gruff whisper,

“I do believe I’ve found her.”

#capitano genshin impact #fatui capitano #Capitano x fem! reader #Eros and psyche retelling #fem reader #hngngngn #capitano / reader #capitano x reader

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lets-try-some-writing · 8 months

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i wish more continuities played with the horror of being revived after your (presumably) grisly demise. It must be real traumatizing right?? Like, it's gotta be! It could really help with characterizing/building a particular character too (cough optimus cough).

You my dear requester have come to exactly the right writer for this request. I have a fic based on this general premise called A Mere Shadow if you are interested. However, I will never turn down the chance to hurt my blorbo even more.

I may have gone a bit nuts with this concept so hold on-

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

A Shadow of Death

Optimus Prime has been faced with death many times. Even as Orion Pax he did not fear it. Death was a fact of life, one he came to accept in his youth. The Matrix only further eliminated that intrinsic desire to flee the possibility of being killed. To a certain extent, it was a blessing as it kept him from faltering at crucial moments, even if he was met with pain for his determination.

Blaster shots a little too close to his spark chamber for comfort, stab wounds deep enough to be concerning, plague of the deadly variety, and more close calls than he dared to count... they were all nothing compared to the true call and agony of death. The fire that rained down on the base that fateful cycle was torture for Optimus. When Smokescreen found him, he very nearly begged Primus to let him die. Only once he was dragged away did he have time to think and to rationalize. Living in that state was a torment, but at the time, he knew it was to end. He made his peace with death long ago. He did not fear its embrace.

It was painful, but it was meant to end. He felt his spark abandon his frame, he sensed his mortality fading as he gave up his life in the line of duty. He was not content, but he was ready to pass and leave the burden behind. It had been so long, and finally, death welcomed him into its patient arms. Its chill wrapped around him, digging into the core of his being. It ached, but it was not unpleasant, especially as he began to see the fallen welcoming him, beckoning him to come home. His attachments faded and for the first time since he was a youngling, he was at peace. He did not expect to be drawn back sharply by a power he instinctively knew belonged to another Prime. He did not know what to think when he woke in his new frame, one built stronger, faster, and more capable. However he knew it was wrong, or rather his frame was not the only thing about him to change.

There was not time to think or time to consider. All he could do was fight and spend the next several cycles focused on getting his team settled. They needed to see he was strong, and so he kept up the façade as weeks passed and a shadow of death hung over him. He could not tell them, for what would he say? How was he supposed to explain the oddities that hung around him at all hours, making him suffer in silence while unable to speak. Something didn't let him, almost as if there were rules that forbade him to reveal that which weighed on him to those who could not sense his discomfort as he could.

It began the first time he returned to their new base after a scouting mission. He had been chilled ever since he was reforged and thought it perhaps due to his spark adjusting to the new frame or vice versa. He spent hours flying and moving, working his engine and his thrusters to the point of his plating being hot to the touch. Despite that... he was cold, not in painful manner, but merely... uncomfortable. It was enough to keep his senses sharp and yet it was unnatural. He went to Ratchet to try and have his frame examined, but all the doctor could tell him was that it must have been a quirk of his reforging. His systems were operating fine and his fans were regulating his temperature even better than before. There was no reason for him to feel chilled unless it was a mental issue. At that Ratchet attempted to have him sit down for a mental exam, but Optimus waved it off as his frame still taking time to settle.

Optimus did not bring up the topic again, not even when he stood beside burning buildings and still felt that coldness seeping into his protoform. He could feel digits caressing his plating, yet when he tried to check his sensors, there was nothing there. The cold haunted him, and in the end, he wrote it off as a punishment of eluding death one too many times.

The cold was bearable, but he hated recharge with a passion. Up until his reforging, recharge was one of the rare blessed moment of rest he was allowed. But now? He dreaded every instance where his frame demanded time to recover. He tried to drag it out for as long as he could with additives and all sorts of substitutes for rest, including plugging his processors into the database to defrag while he was still up and active. But in the end, the need eventually came, or the team would grow suspicious and he would be forced to retreat to his berth all the same.

Laying down for recharge was always comforting. It was familiar and allowed age old routine to take over, allowing him to vent deeply and simply feel for a while. But that is when the trouble always started. Optimus could never stop himself from feeling the pull of recharge. Once it set in, he couldn't move. His frame froze up and despite him being quite active mentally, his frame eased and rested, falling into recharge long before he did. Sometimes his optics were unshuttered, other times they weren't when the paralysis set in. Whatever the case, it always felt like he was back in that cave, bleeding out and in agony. It was terrifying to be stuck in that paralysis before recharge as nearly every time there was a haunting moment when his vents failed to work and his spark ceased in its blaze for but a nanoklik. But Primus, that one nanoklik always felt like an eternity where his frame almost seemed uncertain if it was alive or dead.

At the end of that long nanoklik he could feel digits running along his frame and he could see things in the corner of his vision regardless of whether or not his optics were functioning. Whispers that he could not comprehend echoed in his audials as his frame began to ache, desperate for ventilation and for energon to continue flowing. Then just as it started to grow unbearable, almost as if he were about to die, then his frame would return to its normal functioning and the paralysis would fade. For the first few deca-cycles after his restoration, Optimus threw himself to his pedes after such incidents and took up the night watch, unwilling to recharge after the threat of death hung over him.

He almost went to Ratchet, he almost burdened his oldest friend with his fears. So many cycles he spent nearly half in recharge as he fought against the need for rest, terrified of that looming death that never came. He did not fear death, but its agony was something he grew to be wary of. It was nearly enough to force him to act and plead with his team for aid. However in the end... he abstained, even though it pained him more when the dreams began.

Optimus had always dreamed, even as Orion. It was part of his nature, and gaining the Matrix only gave his dreams more vividness and viability. And yet... after being reforged, he no longer dreamed at all, at least not as he used to. When he fell into recharge, he found himself in a void with no light, no sound, and nothing to help him determine if he was up, down, or even within his own frame. He could never see his servos, nor could he sense himself moving if he willed himself to. He was simply left in a world of darkness for hours, unable to feel anything except the chill that plagued him during his waking cycles. That alone was nerve wracking but manageable due to the strange sense of peace he found within that void. Sometime he could swear he saw motes of light dash past him, slipping through that void and vanishing before he had time to observe them. He made it habit to search out those motes of light while within the void that came for him during recharge. It kept him occupied and made the chill less startling.

He learned to recharge through it all, but never for long. The lack of rest made itself known throughout his waking hours as he wandered and did his work. The chill kept him awake, but he could not stop himself from feeling the pull of that cold void whenever his focus slipped. It was almost as though it was calling him, trying to reclaim him after he escaped its grasp. Sometimes when he was particularly unfocused, he would find himself standing under the stars, watching and observing, unable to move as his mind seemed to leave the confines of his frame. In those instances he could sense things, he could see those same motes of light dashing around him, and with time, he came to understand what they were.

Life, sparks, souls.

It took time, but he came to understand. By the time Megatron was gunning to rebuild the Omega Lock and Ratchet left to join that effort, Optimus found himself... colder. He had never feared death, it was a part of life he didn't care to know but accepted all the same. Now though? Now he understood it. The chill forever sunk into his frame, and he noted that what once was a mere mental issue became reality. He was cold to the touch, even after battle. Things grew to be more distant, or rather less important as the cycles passed him by. The void that he walked in was trying to reclaim him. He could sense it in the way his spark flared and grew dimmer. The void wanted him back, and every day he was drawn closer to it.

What frightened him after his reforging grew to be commonplace. He didn't fear it anymore. The void that came in dreams came to be a second home of sorts, one he grew more adept at seeing the sparks within. It seemed wrong for him to be at peace with the way his mind shifted and how he no longer was terrified of those brief moments where his frame threatened to fail. It simply did not bother him when he saw the void in the corners of his vision or when chilled digits touched him. It became familiar, and with that familiarity, the living realm grew more distant.

He did not emote often, at least not as the others did. Now he did not express himself at all. There was no need. The world was changed for him. The team worried but chalked it up to Ratchet being gone. They were partially correct. Without that mortal tie, the cold came and seeped deeper, making it easier to slip and see the cracks, the thinner places between reality where sparks darted, returning to their maker after their lives ended. It fascinated him, even though it often had him staring into what the others considered empty space when he was supposed to be acting.

He was changing, and what fully solidified that for him was when he began to feel the chill of death closing in around others. He first noted it around Vehicons, mainly those who had brushes with death or were unfortunately killed in combat. There was little he could do for them, as usually by the time he noted the chill, it had already wrapped around the Vehicon in question, dooming them to their fate. He only acted when he felt it around Arcee before she tried to enter a groundbridge. It was harder to feel, but he still stopped her. When questioned, he found he could not speak and explain, so he opted for vague wording, hoping it would help her to see and understand.

Arcee: Optimus, what was that for?

Optimus: You cannot go there. The chill follows you.

Arcee: Sir? What does that mean.

Optimus: Danger Arcee. A threat I cannot save you from.

Arcee: I don't understand-

Optimus: You do not need to. I sense the chill, I see the looming cloud. Do not go. You shall not return if you do.

Harder to focus, harder to think. Whenever he was not working, Optimus watched the sparks come and go, observing with a strange distant affection he could not place. All the while the chill grew deeper, closer to his spark, and his frame became weary despite its power. He was changing...

And the void wanted him back.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #angst #shadow of death au #death #alternate universe #Optimus has problems #but he can't say anything about it because of eldritch rules #I love me a mortal turned monster story #can any of yall pick up the hints of my death au here?#Yeah this is kinda a reverse of that #only this time it aint death learning to feel #instead its a mortal learning to let go

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