#and while normally i have no issue with that one- he's a bit of a hermit and put up with a lot from us neighbor kids when we were little

[spidergrysn]

Spider!Mark origins: Mark Lee x Reader

cw: part one of many, spider! mark, kinda sorta in the mcu????!? just a bit, haechan and reader are siblings, slight violence, sloww burn, fluffy, silly banter, EVENTUAL SMUT (none in this chapter) dorky mark lee.

wc: 7.7k🕷️

ISSUE #1: MARK’s ORIGINS. 🕷️🕸️

Annoyed was an understatement.

All his life, Mark had been constantly on the move. It felt like he was never going to have the chance to settle down and be a semi-normal person. From living in Canada to South Korea and now to the US, it seemed like there was no point in getting attached to anyone or anything because, just like before, he was more than likely going to endure some type of change. Mark for one wasn’t unfamiliar with change.

His youth had been filled with broken promises, loneliness, and distractions. There were three things in this world that Mark Lee loved more than his aunt and uncle Park: quantum physics, engineering, and music.

Despite the constant upheaval in his life, these passions had remained constant, serving as his anchor in the storm of his ever so changing life. Whether he was studying the intricacies of the universe, tinkering with gadgets and gizmos, or losing himself in the melodies of his favorite r&b songs, Mark found solace in the world of science and creativity.

But even with adoration for his interests, Mark couldn't help but long for stability. He yearned for a place to call home, a community where he belonged, and people who understood him. Yet, each time he packed up his bags to go to yet another house in another city in another place he knew this was nothing more than a distant hope.

That being said, these passions were the only things that seemed to get Mark through the days. There was something about listening to R&B music and testing major theories of famous physicists in his ever-changing bedroom that kept him grounded. So that’s what he did. After moving to different cities in Canada, Korea, and finally the US, he decided to start uploading videos to the internet.

Now, he didn’t show his face, but his videos featured him making different technological devices while simultaneously playing old R&B music in the background. It was some weird niche thing that he adored. Sure, Mark had garnered 100 subscribers, and sure, some of them may have been weird YouTube bots. But when you thought about it, if you put that many people in one room, it would be a whole lot. Sure, his account didn’t get much attention, but the few comments he’d get on his videos made his day. It made him feel like he had “friends.

Recently, he had uploaded a video explaining his view of quantum theory while Aaliyah's smooth voice filled the background. After a couple of hours, he received a notification from a subscriber who usually commented a lot. They had chatted a few times in his YouTube comments, and Mark had learned that he was a physics professor at MidTown university a college in New York which just so happened to be not too far from where Mark was currently living.

Today’s comment was a bit different though as he reads it, Mark could feel his eyes widen, absorbing every word the professor had to say. He had told Mark that there was an upcoming science expo happening at the school. It was free for all and would be a good way to learn new things. Reading this excitedly Mark, he immediately liked the comment before going to his Safari to search the event, and sure enough, it was there: "30th Mid-Town Science Union Expo" on September 3rd. Finally, something Mark had to be excited for. For the next week, that’s all Mark could think of, and his mood had noticeably changed, prompting his auntie to take notice, thinking that Mark had finally made some friends or, dare she say it, a girlfriend, which Mark waved off, saying it was nothing.

As the days passed, Mark found himself eagerly counting down to the expo, his mind buzzing with anticipation. It felt like a rare opportunity to immerse himself in a world of science and innovation, surrounded by like-minded individuals who shared his exact same passion. And as he continued to upload videos to his channel, the thought of attending the expo filled him with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement.

Finally, the day had come. Mark wore a corny math t-shirt that said “find x,” some blue jeans, and his annoying circular prescription glasses that his auntie always nagged him about, making sure he was wearing them at all times or his vision would only get worse.

His body bounced with anticipation as, Mark exited their small house and strolled down the street, making his way to the train station. Ear to ear, he stood on the subway train like an absolute loser, feeling his heart beating against his chest as the train made its stop. He slipped through the other passengers before breaking into a small jog up to the campus. Signs pointing to the event adorned the lawn as Mark made his way there.

He took a few turns before coming upon a gym. He opened the door and was met with a sea of people and all kinds of experiments and technologies. He stood in awe, just observing everything around him. For the next couple of hours, he walked up and down the aisles, taking pictures and listening carefully to all the presenters. He was observing a particularly cool machine when he was interrupted by someone on a microphone.

“Hello, I need everyone’s attention right now! Experiment #127 has gone missing, and we need everyone to quickly exit the gym be sure to check your bodies and under your shoes to make sure it didn’t bite you. If you’ve been bitten, please reach out to me. It’s very, ah, fatal,” the man in the lab coat announced urgently.

Mark looked up at the man, his heart pounding in his chest, as he watched all hell break loose. People were running into each other, things were being broken, and it was absolute chaos. Mark felt himself being shoved out of the way as he made his way towards the exit. Finally, after a few minutes of pushing and shoving, he was able to make it out, out of breath but relieved to have escaped the hell inside.

As darkness covered the streets, Mark walked home his shoulders slumped, annoyance bubbling within him as he muttered to himself. Of course, the one time he decided to go out, it would get ruined. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling of something on his neck. Out of instinct, thinking it was some type of mosquito, he swatted at his neck, feeling the bug squish under his hand.

“Ew, dude, so gross," he muttered to himself, looking at his hand. Mark's eyes widened as he noticed that the bug had eight crooked legs and big, beady eyes. It was definitely not a mosquito. He swatted, wiping his hand his on pants before , exclaiming how there was no way that could be the spider from earlier.

Trying to brush it off as some kind of coincidence, Mark kept walking only to feel his skin start to tingle, his body goes cold but he simply dismissed it as paranoia. Taking a few more steps, he felt his legs turn to jelly, his eyes getting heavy, and he started to feel disoriented before everything turned black.

•

•

"Is he dead?"

"No, Y/n, he isn’t dead. His leg just twitched."

"I don’t know, Hyuckie, sometimes dead people twitch."

"HOW CAN SOMEONE TWITCH IF THEY'RE DEAD-"

"OH SHOOT, HE'S MOVING! IS HE A ZOMBIE?"

"Y/N, HE'S NOT DEAD, HEADASS."

Mark's head absolutely ached, and the voices he heard were not helping at all. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head. By now, it was morning, and the sun was shining onto him. His glasses were somehow still on his face, but his vision was blurred. With ease, Mark took off his glasses and gasped at the sudden clarity. He could see everything, including the two people in front of him.

They both looked about his age. The boy had dark brown hair and an annoyed look plastered on his face, as if passed-out Mark was some kind of inconvenience. Next to him was a girl, a bit shorter than him, with h/c hair, and a surprised yet curious expression on her face.

"Ah, where the hell am I?" Mark hoarsely asks as he looked between the two. The two exchanged a look of concern before carefully helping Mark onto his feet.

"We found you passed out on the side of the street this morning on our way to a friend’s house, so my sister here thought we should check to make sure you weren’t dead," the boy explained.

Mark rubbed his eyes before cursing, pulling out his phone to see numerous frantic texts and missed phone calls from his aunt and uncle.

"SHIT, they're gonna kill me," Mark muttered, running his hand through his hair. "I've got to go," he said, about to leave. The girl protested, "BUT WAIT, DON'T GO! WHAT IF YOU'RE HU--" And before she could finish her sentence, the boy was already sprinting back home.

"This is what you get for trying to help someone," the boy, Haechan, teased his sister as she rolled her eyes, and they headed to their destination.

•

•

Mark ran home as fast as he could, his heart pounding out of his chest. He reached the front door and before he could touch the handle, it flew open, revealing his distressed aunt. Her face went from sadness to relief to anger in a matter of seconds as she opened her mouth to reprimand him.

"Lee Minhyung, where in the hell were you?" his aunt demanded, hitting him on the back of the neck, the exact place where he had gotten bitten. Mark winced, but then a thought struck him. Why wasn't he dead? He had passed out from that spider bite that that one professor said to be fatal.. how was Mark still alive?. His thoughts were interrupted as his auntie embraced him, hugging him tightly.

"Please don't do that again, Mark. You scared me and your uncle half to death. I know we've been moving a lot, but I swear this is the last time. I'm sorry if that was upsetting you," she pleaded.Mark enclosed his arms around his aunt, apologizing for his disappearance. He was relieved that his auntie didn’t question it anymore, just happy for him to be back.

"Oh and, Mark,please shower. I love you, but you stink," his auntie teased. Mark lightly laughed before heading into the house , going straight to his room, grabbing some spare clothes, and going to the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and got in the shower, letting out a sigh of relief at how relaxing it felt. As he scrubbed his shampoo-filled hair, he tried to recall everything that had happened – the science fair, walking home, the spider bite, the two weirdos – but nothing inbetween the bite and waking up came to mind.

He turned off the shower, wrapping his body in a towel before heading to his room. Shutting the door, he sat on his bed and looked in the mirror, noticing something different. His body looked completely transformed. Mark wasn't out of shape before, just a bit skinny, but now he could barely recognize himself. His whole body was toned, his arms looked like he lifted weights every day.

"What the actual fuck is going on?" Mark muttered to himself, completely confused. First, he passed out, then he couldn't see with his glasses, and now he was built like a character from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure."Minhyung, I made dinner," his aunt's voice rang from the kitchen, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. He quickly got dressed and joined her at the table.

"I made Jajangmyeon," his aunt said, gesturing to the food.

"Ah, thank you, Auntie, I appreciate it," Mark nodded, smiling as she took a seat and began to pray.

“Hey, Mark, I see you're back from your little adventure. I told you, Jen, the man just needed some time to himself," his uncle said, entering the room. He clasped Mark's shoulder as his aunt rolled her eyes and told him to clean up and join them.

As Mark dug into the delicious meal, he couldn't help but notice his auntie and uncle looking at him in awe as he managed to eat five, going on six bowls.

"Who are you and what did you do with my nephew? his auntie chuckles as mark ravenously ate. Mark pauses his eating laughing quietly and shrugging, but he couldn’t help thinking again… what in the hell was wrong with him.”

•

•

As Mark settled back into his daily routine, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Strange changes were occurring within him. His senses seemed sharper, his reflexes quicker. Initially, he attributed it to the adrenaline rush from the spider venom clearing out of his system, but as more days passed, he began to realize there was something going on with his body he just didn’t know what.

Like a couple days ago he found his phone quite literally sticking to his hand like glue. Another time, as his auntie was about to drop something, and he experienced a weird tingling sensation, and with lightning-fast reflexes, he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. And then there was the odd incident when he dropped something, and as he thrust out his wrists to catch it, he noticed a sticky white fluid oozing from his wrists.

All these thing led Mark to a startling conclusion: either he was going through puberty again, which compared to the things happening to him did not seem highly unlikely, or that spider bite had changed him. It had altered him into some kind of superhuman freak, and Mark struggled to weigh that in his head.

Night after night, Mark found himself hunched over his computer, scouring the web for any clue that could shed light on his newfound abilities. Hours turned into days as he delved into articles and videos, hoping for a breakthrough, only to be met with frustration and defeat. With a heavy sigh, he ran his hands through his hair in frustration before defeatedly turning off his computer and chucking his notebook full of possibilities at the wall. His exhaustion was taking over and he decided to tackle this spider shit tomorrow.

As Saturday morning arrived,Mark found himself awake earlier than usual. The cool breeze whispered through the open window, beckoning him outside. Needing to clear his head a bit , he quietly slipped out of the house, not wanting to disturb his sleeping auntie and uncle. The streets were quiet, the wind was cool, and it was the perfect time for a morning jog.

As Mark pounded the pavement, his thoughts swirled with uncertainty. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps and the steady beat of his music provided a temporary escape, allowing him to clear his mind. He looks at his watch seeing that it was somehow 1 pm… he has been running for a little over 6 hours and hadn’t even worked up much of a sweat.

“What the actual hell is going on.” he groans to himself as he decides to take a break from jogging and try and find something to eat. Weirdly enough , as he was walking down the street a strange sensation washed over him—a familiar tingling that prickled his skin and made the hairs on his arms stand on end. With a frown, he removed his headphones, tuning in to the sounds of the city awakening around him.

Ahead, in a dimly lit alley, Mark heard voices—a commotion that was almost inviting him to come in. Peering around the corner, he spotted a group of men surrounding a lone girl backpack. Their menacing words echoed off the walls as they demanded her belongings."Come on, Stark, no one is here to save you. Hand over your stuff, and nobody gets hurt," one of the men taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Mark's heart raced as he watched the scene unfold, his mind racing to place where he had seen the girl before. There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at the edges of his memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it. With a surge of adrenaline, Mark knew he couldn't stand idly by. He put his hoodie over his head concealing his face and took a big deep breath. This was his moment to step into the unknown, to test the limits of his newfound powers, and to help someone out.

"And why should I? If you want money so bad, get a JOB... J-O-B. Do you need me to spell 'application' out for you too?" The girl retorted, a hint of amusement in her voice, before one of the guys grabbed her collar.

Without a second thought, Mark sprang into action. With newfound agility and strength, he swiftly removed the robber from the girl's grasp and stood between them, a dorky determined expression on his face as he kept his face down not wanting his identity to be seen by robbers.

"Uh, I wouldn't be doing that if I were you," Mark said, attempting to deepen his voice, though he couldn't help but cringe inwardly at how it came out.

"Oh my God, who is this loser?" the man scoffed, joined by his two lackeys in mocking laughter.

Mark's heart sank at their taunts, but he steadied himself. "Alright, captain save-a-hoe over here. What exactly will you do to me, loser?" the man sneered, before Mark's fist connected with his jaw, sending him crashing into a pile of trash cans.

"Holy shit, that kid is strong," the other two men exclaimed, abandoning their unconscious companion and fleeing the scene.

Rubbing his barely aching hand, Mark turned to the girl. "Oh, hey... you're welcome for saving you," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," she replied awkwardly, eyeing him with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "I totally was handling it on my own, but, uh, yeah, sure, thanks."

Mark felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped to be hailed as a hero, not dismissed like he some kind of nuisance. "Sorry, it just looked like you needed help—"

"I didn't. I could've handled it on my own," the girl interjected firmly, before turning to walk away.

Mark sighed, preparing to leave, when he heard her voice again. "Wait, I know you... you're the boy from a few weeks ago, I found passed out." She comes up to him taking his hoodie off, she had gotten a small glance at him when he had bolted in the alley.

And then it clicked—Mark remembered her. "Yeah, that was me. Uh, thank you for helping me that day. I was in such a rush, I wasn't thinking," he admitted sheepishly.

"No worries, consider us even," she said with a soft giggle, extending her hand. "I'm Stark, Y/n Stark."

Mark's eyes widened in surprise. "L-like Stark Industries?" he stammered. Although He had just moved to the US, he would be a fool to not know who Tony Stark was, the billionaire superhero with a niche for technology. The name was practically synonymous with heroism and technological advancements.

Y/n rolled her eyes, clearly used to this reaction. "Yes, like Stark Industries. Usually people say their name when they introduce themselves, but yeah," she replied sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm Mark, Mark Lee," he replied, feeling a bit flustered as he shook her hand.

"Jesus, your grip is strong as hell. Do you lift or something?" Y/n remarked, her eyebrows raised in surprise as she looks from Mark to her attacker that laid knocked out on top of some trashcans.

Mark chuckled nervously, his heart racing as he hesitantly agreed, earning a laugh from the girl beside him. "So, uh, why were those guys giving you a hard time?" he asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

The girl rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Hmm, let me guess. Maybe the fact that my father is a billionaire and one of America's most annoying men on the planet, who knows," she replied sarcastically, her tone laced with slight annoyance.

Mark sheepishly scratched his neck, nodding in understanding. "Uh Can I walk you home or something?" he blurted out, surprising himself with his boldness.

The girl giggled, giving him a small nod. As they walked side by side, Mark listened intently as Y/n told him about her life—her school, her dad, her step-brother Haechan. She spoke with pride about the things in her life, and Mark couldn't help but admire her confidence.

"What about you? I've talked so much about myself, I forgot to even ask you anything," Y/n said, her voice light with laughter.

Mark stumbled over a few awkward "ums" before launching into a tangent about his own life—constantly moving, living with his overprotective auntie and careless uncle, and the fact that he had never had any close friends.

Y/n listened attentively, offering encouraging nods and murmurs of understanding. "Well, you know what, Mark? Consider us friends," she declared, extending her hand in a gesture of truce.

Mark hesitantly shook her hand, feeling a rush of warmth at the simple gesture. She squeezed his hand before announcing that they had arrived at her home.

"Wow, it's really—" Mark began, but Y/n cut him off with a knowing smirk.

"Big, huge, expensive, amazing, and awesome. Thank you. It was a high school graduation gift. This is what happens when you graduate top of your class and your dad is loaded," she finished, her laughter filling the air.

As they reached a gate, Mark watched intently as Y/n tentatively punched in a number. "So, I'll see you around," he trailed off, feeling a sense of reluctance to leave.

"That you will," Y/n replied, her smile radiant. Mark swore her eyes sparkled a bit in the light.

"Thank you, Mark," she said, hurrying through the gate and waving goodbye. Mark waved before walking back home a bit awe struck at the encounter.

•

•

"Hey, Hyuck," the girl greeted, her hand pushing open the huge door to the sprawling mansion. "And Jeno... and Jaemin and Renjun," she added, spotting her brother's best friends lounging on the plush couch, engrossed in some sort of fighting video game.

"Hey, Y/N," they chorused in unison, their attention briefly diverted before returning back to their game.

"Hate to ruin the fun and all, but Hyuck, can I talk to you?" Y/N asked, her smile carrying a hint of suspicion.

"Yeah, sure," Haechan replied, casting a curious glance at his sister, waiting for her to speak.

"Ahem, ALONEEEE," Y/N insisted, emphasizing the word.

"Ugh, fine," he grumbled, rising from the couch and following Y/N into an empty room. Y/n closes the door behind him as he urges her to speak.

"Okay, well, I almost got mugged today," Y/N confessed weirdly calm.

"AGAIN??? What have I told you about leaving the house without keeping a communicational tracking device? Also Haechan scolded, his irritation all over his face.

“Also you know how to fight i don’t know why you never use that.”

"Ugh that’s so annoying and heavy plus Find my iPhone works just as well, and my dear brother violence is never the answer ," Y/N replied, scratching her neck.

Haechan rolls his eyes at her reply knowing she was full of shit.

"Aht anyways , key word though: ALMOST... I got saved," she continued, a spark of excitement in her eyes.

"Okay, so what's so crazy about that?" Haechan sighed, already bracing himself for another wild story from his sister.

"You know the really cute weird guy we found tweaking on the sidewalk one morning on our way to class?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with even more excitement.

"Yes..." Haechan replied cautiously, raising an eyebrow in anticipation.

"Get this: he's the one that saved me," Y/N revealed, her words hanging in the air, begging for a reaction.

Haechan's eyebrow shot up even higher, his interest piqued. "Okay, but this time he was strong as hell, some kind of superhuman strength, I swear to God. And he dropped in at the perfect time, it was crazy."

"I know exactly where this is going, Y/N," Haechan interrupted.

"Just hear me out, Hyuck," Y/N pleaded, her excitement bubbling over once again.

"I think we should tell Dad about this. It was a bit strange, and I don't know, I think he's some kind of mutant or superhuman guy thingy for sure," Y/N suggested, her mind racing with possibilities.

"Don't you think before you tell Tony, you should get, like, some proof? He could just be really strong, and you know, we did find him on the side of the road. It could be Crack. I heard Crack make people hella strong at times," Haechan reasoned, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Y/N shot her brother a withering glare as her eye twitched in annoyance. "We live in a world full of actual superheroes. Our uncle is a big radioactive green man, and you think this boy is on CRACK ," she said, her frustration evident.

Haechan shrugged indifferently before turning to walk off. "You know how Tony is. Get proof that this guy is some sort of superhuman, and then you can tell them."

"So you're saying I should pull a Joe Goldberg and follow him around," Y/N muttered sarcastically under her breath as Haechan walked away to join his friends.

“Not exactly what I meant, but if that gets you your info, then be my guest," Haechan called back over his shoulder before disappearing into the living room area.

"Asshole, so much for his help," Y/N muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief as she retreated to her room to devise a plan. She was determined to uncover the truth about the mysterious boy who had come to her rescue.

•

•

As the middle of September came, Mark finally felt like he had some peace in his life. Despite that spider bite giving him these wacky powers, things were good. He was starting up at a private college soon meaning, he finally had a chance to make friends and enjoy being in school for a longer period of time. Although he moved a lot, Mark always made sure to stay on top of his grades and work, and he was so smart that when moving down to New York, he was offered a scholarship at one of the top high-class private colleges. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly excited. His auntie and uncle were doing well and were in good health, and things actually felt normal.

Or at least, normalish. His days were fine, but his nights were filled with endless research. "Radioactive spiders," "superhuman," "mutants" were all over his Google search history. His notebook was filled with pages upon pages of his abilities and his discoveries. Mark would be lying if he said he didn't sneak out his window a few times to stop some petty crimes, dressed in all black and a raggedy Halloween mask to conceal his face.

But despite his newfound abilities and the excitement of starting college, Mark couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. He missed the chance encounter with Y/n, the girl who had saved him and intrigued him all at once. He found himself thinking about her more often than he cared to admit, wondering where she was and if he would ever see her again. But for now, he had to focus on not embarrassing himself on this first day of school keep his nighttime escapades under wraps. After all, being a superhero wasn't exactly part of his college plans.

•

•

The sun crept through the curtains, casting a soft glow into Mark's room as his Auntie Park flicked on the light switch, breaking the peaceful morning silence. "Why is it that you’re finally an adult, and I still have to wake you up early for school like you’re 8?" she chided, her voice warm yet tinged with annoyance, before kissing Mark on his head and leaving his room.

Mark groaned, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he rubbed them, reluctantly pulling himself out of bed to start his day. The cozy warmth of his blankets calling for him to stay in bed as he stretched, his muscles protesting the early hour. With a seep sigh, he shuffled over to his closet, grabbing his school uniform he received at his orientation. He was slightly confused that at his big age he’d be wearing a uniform to college, but he wrote it off as something that rich people probably did. He shrugged the thought off as he hastily got dressed, adjusting his tie carefully.

Rushing to the bathroom, Mark brushed his teeth and splashed his face with water aka his sorry excuse of a skin care routine. Drying his face he scurries to put on his shoes-all the while Grabbing a piece of toast from the kitchen, Mark quickly pecked his auntie on the cheek, telling her he’ll see her later before dashing out the door to catch his train to school.

The train ride calming, soft murmurs and the rhythmic hum of the engine, punctuated by the occasional screech of brakes as it slowed to a stop caused Mark to relax a bit. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting with the music pouring through his headphones.

Stepping off the train, Mark found himself immersed in the early morning bustle of the city streets, the cool morning air hit him as he made his way towards the big gates of his prestigious private school. Cobblestones lined the walkway, while vibrant flowers danced in the gentle breeze,

The stained-glass windows of the school caught the early sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the ground below. Each pane was a reminded Mark of attending church early in the morning with his Auntie and Uncle as a Kid. Mark paused, momentarily lost in the thought , before finally tearing his gaze away to enter the new school .

Inside, the air was alive with the energy of rowdy students and bustling footsteps, students mingling in clusters as they navigated the long hallway. With a deep breath, he pushed forward, his footsteps echoing against the polished floors as he walked to his first class of the day.

Opening the door, Mark was greeted by the warm smile of his teacher as the bell chimed signaling everyone to get to their classes. The teacher greets the class before asking Mark to stay in front of the class to introduce himself.

Mark swayed a bit clenching his jaw as he stood in front of a sea of people wearing red and blue.

his eyes were glued straight ahead as he introduced himself, he adjusts his uniform cuffs as he nervously speaks up.

The classroom hummed with the anticipation as Mark nervously stood before his classmates, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. "Yo.. uh hi, my name is Mark," he began, his voice betraying him as he cleared his throat. "I'm from Canada, and then I moved to Korea for a bit, and they're both a bit different from New York." His words spilled out in a rush, the syllables tumbling over one another as he struggled to find his footing in this unfamiliar environment. "Uh, I live with my aunt and uncle, and, uhm, yeah, that's about it," he concluded with a nervous laugh, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he scratched the back of his head.

The teacher nodded encouragingly, gesturing for Mark to take a seat as the other students shifted in their chairs, their curious gazes following his every move. Mark offered a quick bow in gratitude before hurrying to his desk, his mind focused on how he just embarrassed himself. "Way to go, Mark," he chided himself, rubbing his temples wishing he could get rid of the awkwardness in the air from his introduction. With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus as the teacher launched into a lesson on chemical matter, the words washing over him in a blur of scientific nonsense .

Mark began to take notes on the board, plugging his earbuds in as he begins his assignment. Everyone else’s focus is interrupted by the entrance of a late classmate.

The door swung open as a girl stood in the doorway, her uniform askew and her hair gathered into some weird crossover of a ponytail and a bun, she gives the teacher a toothy smile and a sorry as she tries to catch her breath.

The teacher's annoyed sigh filled the room as He sternly gaze at the girl. "Miss Y/n, this is the third time you've been late this week… and it’s only Wednesday,"He said, his tone full of annoyance.

Y/n's eyes widened with remorse as she profusely apologized , her words tumbling out scattered . "I know, I've just been getting caught up with other things," she explained, her voice trailing off as she met the teacher's unwavering gaze. With a weary sigh, the teacher issued a final warning, threatening to involve Y/n's father if her punctuality did not improve. Defeated, Y/n slunk to the back of the classroom, sinking into an empty desk next to the new boy, her expression a mixture of annoyance and frustration .

As Mark’s head nodded to the beat of his headphones, he felt a subtle shift in the air beside him. Sensing someone's presence, he instinctively unplugged his headphones, his gaze locking with y/n's, whose eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected encounter.

"Mark?" she exclaimed, a hint of disbelief painting her voice as she struggled to contain her excitement at the random meeting.

"Oh, Wow yo y/n, hey," Mark replied, equally taken aback by their chance encounter. The coincidence of the girl that’s he’s been thinking about going to the same school as him made his heart pitter-patter.

"You're stalking me or something, tiger?" y/n teased, a playful smirk gracing her lips as she watched Mark's face flush with embarrassment at the nickname.

"N-no, no, no, it's just—" Mark stuttered, his words faltering as y/n interrupted him with a soft laugh, her amusement evident in the twinkle of her eyes.

"I'm just messing with you, but seriously, what brings you here—to a small private college in New York?" y/n inquired, her curiosity piqued as she observed Mark with a raised eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over him inquisitively.

"Last time I checked, you aren't a spoiled rich kid whose family buys everything for them. You also just look really out of place," she added, a playful grin dancing on her lips as Mark chuckled nervously and explained the circumstances of his scholarship.

"Wow, so you're much smarter than you look. Good to know," y/n remarked teasingly, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a mischievous smile as they shared a lighthearted moment.

As the lesson resumed, Mark and y/n launched into small talk, their conversation flowing effortlessly, their laughter mingling with the hum of the classroom. Despite their initial awkwardness at their first meeting , Mark couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in y/n's presence, as if they were old friends catching up after a long absence. And as they went deeper in conversation, the world outside faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, lost in their convo.

•

As the teacher's lesson drew to a close, the classroom gradually began to stir signaling the end of the class. Mark watched as his classmates gathered their belongings, their movements synchronized as the excited the class. The teacher's voice rose above the all the movement , emphasizing the importance of an upcoming assignment deadline.

Mark didn’t even hear a word he said his attention was suddenly diverted by the presence of y/n, standing just a few steps behind him. Surprise flickered across his features as he turned to face her, his curiosity piqued by what she’s about to ask him.

"What class do you have next?" she asks, her voice cheery as ever.

Mark blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Uh, this is my lunch period," he replied, trying to remember .

A smile tugged at the corners of y/n's lips as she met his gaze. "It's mine too," she revealed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Mark nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of relief washing over him at the fact that he didnt have to sit by himself at lunch. "Uhh maybe, we can go together then," he suggested, his words punctuated by a slight stutter.

Y/n's smile widened at his response, her excitement contagious as she grabs his wrist. “Uh isn’t the lunch room, this way?” Mark asks gesturing down a hallway as y/n looks at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not," she declared, her tone laced with determination. "Let's take my car and go off campus."

Mark's brow furrowed in confusion, no way he goes to a school like this and the food is bad.

"Is the food bad or something?" he asked curious fabout how quickly she’s ready to leave

Y/n shook her head, a playful glint in her eye. "No, the food is fine," she reassured him. "It's just... it's loud and there are too many people. I prefer to eat out."

Mark nodded in understanding, his curiosity giving way to intrigue as he followed y/n's lead, allowing her to guide him out of the classroom and into the bustling parking lot beyond.

As they made their way across the asphalt parking lot, y/n's steps quickened with purpose, leading them to a vibrant red 1990 Acura parked nearby. Mark's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the vintage vehicle, its classic design standing in stark contrast to the sleek sports cars that dotted the parking lot.

"Nice ride, huh?" y/n remarked, her gaze seeking Mark's approval.

Mark nodded in agreement, his admiration evident as he took in the car's well-maintained exterior. "Yeah, it's pretty cool," he conceded, a smile gracing his lips as y/n unlocked the car, signaling him to get in the passenger seat.

As y/n settled into the driver's seat, she reached over to fasten her seatbelt, adjusting her mirrors as the car roared to life. Mark watched her with interest, noting the way her delicate fingers navigated the controls of her phone, he quickly looks away when he thinks he might be staring too hard.

"Do you like SZA?" she asks, her eyes flicking to meet his as she pulled out of the parking lot, the slow beat of the music filling the car with its infectious rhythm.

Mark's face lit up with excitement at the mention of the artist. "I do, I really love music in general," he replied, his voice oozing with enthusiasm as he settled into his seat. As the melody enveloped them, he found himself humming along, his voice blending seamlessly with the rich tones of the song.

Y/n's smile widened at his response, "Oh really now, that's super cool," she remarked, her gaze softening as she focused on the road ahead. "I love music as well. I'm not a singer—I can't hold a single note—but I appreciate the beauty of it."

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of laughter and song recommendations, the car filled with the sounds of their shared enthusiasm. As y/n drove through the busy winding roads, , their conversation flowed effortlessly as they delved deeper into each other's lives.

Eventually, y/n pulled up to a gate, her hand entering a code before the gate swung open, granting them access to the sprawling estate Mark had seen before.

Y/n parks the car, and motions Mark to follow her as she stepped out of the car, her footsteps echoing against the polished marble of the driveway. As they made their way towards the entrance.

As they reached the door, y/n fumbled a bit with the buttons, her fingers tapping eagerly against the keypad until the lock clicked open, revealing the warm glow of the entrance, only to be met with the sight of her brother and his friends sprawled out on the couch, their attention fixed on the tv and a greasy pizza box balanced on the coffee table.

"Why are you guys skipping class?" y/n demanded, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she looked the scene before her. Her brother and his friends exchanged sheepish grins, their laughter echoing through the room.

"Free period," Jeno replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, his gaze meeting y/n's with a hint of mischief.

"We can ask you the same thing, missy," Jaemin chimed in, a sassy smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Aht, it's my lunch period," y/n retorted, her tone laced with playful defiance as she stepped further into the room, her eyes scanning the faces of her brother's friends. Spotting Mark hovering awkwardly by the doorway, she motioned for him to join her.

"This is Mark," she introduced, her voice warm as she gestured towards him. "Mark, this is Jaemin, Jeno, and Renjun. You've met Haechan."

Mark nodded politely, a small smile playing at his lips as he exchanged greetings with y/n's brother and his friends.

"Anyways, I'm gonna warm us up some food, and we can sit in my room," y/n announced, her trying to contain her excitement as she moved towards the kitchen. But before she could finish her sentence, Haechan interjected with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Not so fast, someone is in the office right now, and if he realizes you're home without saying anything to him, he's gonna be pissed," he teased, a grin spreading across his face as y/n groaned in frustration.

But before y/n could protest, Haechan's expression shifted, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he turned to Mark with a devilish grin.

"Come here, Mark. Have you ever wanted to meet Tony Stark?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement as he beckoned Mark closer.

•

•

"Are you serious? Really?" Mark asked, his eyes widening in surprise at Haechan's revelation.

"No, sorry, I was kidding. You should've seen the look on y'alls faces! I couldn't resist," Haechan chuckled mischievously, dodging a playful swipe from y/n as she scolded him.

"You're so annoying, Hyuck," she groaned in mock exasperation before turning to Mark with an apologetic smile. "Come on, Mark, let's go."

Mark followed y/n down a hallway, the sounds of laughter and chatter fading behind them as they ascended a staircase. They made a few turns before arriving at a door, y/n swinging it open arms wide.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she announced, gesturing grandly at the cozy space beyond.

"Humble, really? Your room is as big as my whole house," Mark chuckled, his eyes roaming over the aesthetically pleasing decor that adorned the walls and windowsills. Lush green plants added a touch of nature to the space, while a plush rug sprawled across the floor invited relaxation. Bean bag chairs beckoned from one corner, while a large bed occupied another, and y/n's impressive PC setup commanded all of Mark’s attention.

"Take off your shoes and make yourself at home," y/n insisted, gesturing for Mark to get comfortable.

"I'm gonna go warm us up some leftover pasta from this really good place down the street," she continued, flashing Mark a bright smile before darting downstairs. Moments later, she returned, balancing two steaming plates of pasta in her hands.

•

The two of them sat comfortably on y/n's floor, plates of pasta in hand, both glued to some random video that y/n had put on.

"You know, Mark, I have a question," y/n began, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"What's up?" Mark replied, a mouthful of food momentarily slowing his response.

"You know a few weeks ago when you saved me?" y/n asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

Mark's hesitation was evident as he replied, "Uh-huh..."

"Did that have anything to do with you passing out on the sidewalk and having that big-ass spider bite on you?" y/n pressed, her gaze fixed intently on him.

Mark's attempt at denial was feeble. "Uhhh, no, what? Why? Nooo," he stammered, his words failing to convince her.

"Uhh, what spider? How do you know it's a spider? It could be a totally different bite, like mosquitoes," Mark blurted out, his voice laced with nervousness.

y/n looked at him deadpan before bursting into laughter. "Oh, Mark, I'm not stupid! You got bitten by something, and it gave you powers. AKA, that spider that got loose at that science expo."

Mark's eyes widened in disbelief. "Uhhh, how did you know that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

y/n simply shrugged. "I did a little research," she replied casually. "You were found a few blocks from a college that later announced to, uhh, let's say 'higher ups' that a dangerous spider got loose. And then you just so happened to step in and beat those assholes up when I was in trouble."

Mark's shock was evident as y/n continued. "Oh, and let's not forget your nightly crusades," she added, watching as different emotions flitted across Mark's face.

"You wanna know how I know, Mark?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.Mark nodded, eager to hear her explanation.

"Okay, well, the news has been saying lately that petty crime rates have been down, and those assailants all end up somehow wrapped in webs? Crazy, right?" y/n chuckled, observing Mark's reaction.

"Also, I didn't know if that was exactly you, but your face confirms my suspicions," she said, giggling.

"I... I don't know what to say," Mark admitted, feeling a bit unnerved by y/n's deduction.

"The only thing I want you to say is yes," y/n said, her eyes locking onto his.

"Yes?" Mark asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"Yes," y/n affirmed. "Mark, let me train you. Let me be your brains of operation. Let me turn you into a real superhero."

Mark tilted his head at her, a bit hesitant. After a moment of contemplation, he uttered a confident, "Yes!"

•

•

WOAHH i am so tired LOL!!! hope you guys enjoyed i love me someee spider man mark lee!!! idk mark and peter parker just have so many cute dorky similarities i love it. a few things im gonna say

-Mark is spider-man in this Au there is no peter parker

-His Aunt and Uncles last names are Park a little reference to Peter’s Aunt May and Ben Parker

-reader & haechan are half siblings that grew up together aka tony stark is a man whore!

anyways second part will be up soon :)!! i’m turning 20 in a few days so it may not update for a minute!!!! also thank you guys for really loving challengers 🤗💞💞

#mark lee #nct 127 #mark lee nct #nct dream #mark lee reader #nct fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee spider man #mark fluff #mark lee smut #nct au #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct imagines #nct smut

[taradactylus]

Been off from tumblr a bit but I just wanna share my general thoughts about TSAMS, especially today's episode...

‼️Quick warning for suicide and self harm mention‼️

I feel betrayed. I legit cried. Out of embarassment, betrayal, and pure but well-reserved anger.

I'm not going to be quiet about how to show handled Sun's problem. Not one fucking media type ever dares to normally bring up suicidal problems, the people who suffer from this, the amount of kids and adults who DIE from such thoughts. This isn't about the overly edgy teenagers who want to normalize cutting yourself is okey and cool. This is about the people who suffered for months and years with such conditions while the world made fun of them or ignored their calls for help. Ignored the signs.

USA doesn't have much of a public transport where the show is going on. But here we do. And a lot of trains are late every day. Late for hours because of "mechanical issues". 8 out of 10 times the mechanical issue is a local kid who jumped front of the train. A teenager fed up with life. An adult who lost their way. An ederly too impatient for death.

I have waited months. Months. To see how Sun deals with it. A character I fell in love with not in a romantic sense, a character who shared way too many of my own problems from hallucinations from abuse till betrayal. A character who was pushed and pulled their entire life around people who slapped you then said they love you. I wanted to see how he heals out from it.

The signs were there. Everywhere. Sun said it out loud once that he at least fantasized about death. EVEN OLD MOON KNEW ABOUT THIS! He literally told New Moon Sun would be capable of doing it.

So why... why through Miku, the character used as the "weird fandom girl" symbol do they bring up such a delicate topic? A topic that is not delicate because you have to tip toe around the people who live with self destructive thoughts day and night, but delicate because it matters to be properly heard out AND NO ONE LISTENS!

Not one fucking media listens. A lot of us out there rely on fandoms. Stories we can escape to because the world never listens. And call me a self-projector all you want dear creators or whoever writes the story, but you either just pulled the cheapest and most dumbest way to close off a story line with solving Sun's problems off-screen, or you just legit don't give a fuck about people who "self-projected".

Honestly, what if I did? What if in a sense, I saw myself in Sun? A Sunshine of a character ruined and changed by the things that happened to him. Am I not allowed to relate to him? Am I an annoying "fan-girl" for caring about how he heals because I myself have no idea how to do it either? Or am I like Miku for hoping someone calls out on his behaviour because that's something I've wanted my entire life and never got?

And here I am, still somehow hoping Sun is lying. That he is in denial. That there is more to what was shown... but honestly? How long should I wait and hope while the character I started to like is now becoming a bit too toxic?

And with all due respect, I'm taking this episode personally. The creators watch the fandom. Probably have their secret accounts to see what the people theorize. And if Sun is not lying, and suicide is an annoying topic and we are self-projecting too much onto Sun, with all due respect, dear creators... grow the fuck up and educate yourself.

I don't need the world to pity my ass for having self-harming habits, wishing to die and even attempted suicide before (I'm getting my ass to therapy in the meantime so do not worry about me), but all I want from content creators to fucking educate themselfes before bringing up such topics. TO CARE A BIT MAYBE?!

I have survived my worst times, but not everyone does (it's not about who is weaker or stronger, only utter guilt held me back, without that I'd be long gone), andI want for those who has no help feel like they're heard and seen. Cause literally that's all itt takes sometimes to maybe save someone's life.

So yeah. I'm utterly disappointed in this episode. Not because I want the world to know that I'm suicidal and everyone should tip toe around me and "omg pls give me attention" ect ect ect...

Im disappointed because I had hopes for TSAMS to maybe, maybe be an example and bring this topic up normally for a change. But well... here goes my hope for an educational approach of suicide and self harm in a popular show.

#tsams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #tsams moon #sams moon #sams sun #the sun and moon show sun #tw: suidice #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: suicide #tw: self harm #tw: self destruction #I hate that tagging here is awfully bad too #So yeah.... bit of a venting? #Also guys I swear Im okey Im getting my ass that therapy and regulating my life as much as possible #even have a buddy system fir safety measures #And by now I have a lot to hold on #But I truly just wanted to see Sun say something about how was he truthfully coping #and if they really solved that off screen.... #I might even quit the show for a while #Definetly gonna take a break for a week #Because this hurted a lot #But this is a call for war and I'm not gonna shut up about this

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Reminiscing With Hunter

Hunter X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst, all the feels, fluff

Word Count: 930

(A/N:) Okay I gave myself some major feels in this one. As I have gone through a lot of loss within the last 3 years this helped me heal just a little bit. I hope this helps bring a little bit of closure to the series. Though I loved the final season I was a little bit disappointed in how fast the ending came. It ended a little quickly (or I just didn't want it to end) but I'm so glad they got the ending they deserved. Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

It wasn't unusual for Hunter to disappear during the night, you had grown used to his disappearances during the waning hours of the night. As a soldier, created for one purpose in life, it wasn't unusual for his senses to overwhelm him. So in moments you would give him his space, but other times you would search for him. You had a way of telling whatever Hunter needed. As a leader, he had to be the guidance and rock of the team. Now he didn't have to worry about such things, but it had still taken it's toll over the years. This moment, finding Hunter's side cooling and him nowhere in the room and the solemnness that had overcome the tightknit family, you knew that Hunter needed you this time.

Searching for any signs of the aging clone, you noticed Batcher's absence as well. Normally the loyal creature was holed up with Omega. But even the younger girl's room was barren of her presence. That's when you knew, she was making good on her argument with her brother's this evening. You sighed deeply, breath hitching as your heart cracked. Passing by Wrecker's open door, deep snores echoing out into the hall, you knew Hunter needed you now more than ever.

Pabu was silent as the town slept on. You sat on the stairs a hot cup of caf in hand as you waited for Hunter's return. The stars above glistening brightly before a ship crossed over above your head, and you knew the blonde haired girl was making her own way in the galaxy. Batcher's padded steps alerted you to the return of Hunter. The Lurca snuffled your hand before heading inside. Though happy to see you, you could tell the creature was saddened by her body language. Hunter sighed deeply and you gave him a sad smile.

"Caf," you asked holding out the cup.

He nodded and took your offering, then took a seat as you patted the spot beside you. You had the uncanny ability to know just exactly what he needed. And caf answered a lot of life's more problematic issues. Though it warmed his body and alerted his senses, it couldn't heal the fresh wound in his heart.

"I take it she's gone," you sniffed, fighting back the tears.

"Yeah," he answered, taking another sip. "I couldn't talk her out of it. I didn't even try."

"She wouldn't have listened. That's why she try sneaking away," you replied. "She can't just sit by and do nothing while other's suffered. It's never been in her nature and," you nudged Hunter with an elbow, "she learned it from you."

"Doesn't make it any easier," he chuckled. "I still remember the first time I saw her on Kamino. I never understood why she was so drawn to us."

"It's because you guys were different," you paused. "Like her."

"Tech taught her a lot too. He was the best out of all of us."

You smiled, wiping a stray tear, "He was definitely a rebel. You probably shouldn't have let her spend so much time with him, he clearly influenced her."

Hunter nodded, grinning to himself behind the mug of caf, "I wouldn't change a thing."

"I wouldn't either," you agreed. "But you know Tech wasn't the only one she learned from. Echo had a lot to do with her to, Wrecker was a total enabler, Crosshair too when he wanted, and don't even get me started on you. You were like a father figure to her. You protected her and you taught her in your own way."

Hunter leaned his head back, taking a deep shuttering breath.

"What I'm getting to is," you grabbed his hand giving it a gentle squeeze, "she had good teachers in her brothers. In you guys. The Force is with her and her other brother is out there watching over her too. Tech is all for this and you know it. He goes with her wherever she goes and so do you, Wrecker, Echo, and Crosshair. She is a part of you and her you. It's a cycle we must live. We have them and then we have to let them go, whether that is in something they must set out to do or they end their race of life."

"That's the only reason I let her go," Hunter replied.

He finished his caf and set the empty mug aside. You held your arms out offering him the comfort he needed now more than ever. Hunter tugged you towards him setting his chin on the top of your head. His beard catching a few of your hairs. You cried softly, letting yourself free yourself from emotions, and Hunter wiped at a few stray tears. The galaxy such a vast place, you meet so many people and they make you into you. He never regretted for one moment having Omega in his life and that's why it hurt so much in letting her go. With one final squeeze Hunter let you go, wiping at wet eyes and cheeks.

You laughed wobblily, still drying tears. "Now this just raises the question. Who's going to tell Wrecker?"

Hunter shook his head, grabbing both of the empty cooling mugs, "I'm not."

"I'm not either," you argued.

He paused for one moment and you both stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Crosshair," you both said in unison making you both laugh.

With sorrowful but light hearts you both went back inside the warm home, hand in hand. Ready for whatever the galaxy threw towards your way next.

#Hunter X Reader #Hunter / Reader #Hunter #The Bad Batch #TBB #Hunter Imagine #The Bad Batch Imagine #Star Wars #Not My Gif #My Writing

[distort-opia]

I assume you have read half way across, I definitely did and I always kept wondering would this scenario be possible? Would that play along similar way if ever happened in canon?

Definitely read Half Way Across. It's an iconic Batjokes story, incredibly well-written and in-character. And yes, I'd say that at least to me, it's pretty much exactly how I'd imagine this scenario unfolding in canon. A bit of spoilers for HWA incoming, for anyone who hasn't read the fic.

I think I talked about it somewhere else before, about how time and context are a huge factor to me when it comes to Batjokes-- and how The Killing Joke is a massive turning point in their dynamic. At that point in time, Joker hadn't killed Jason. He hadn't killed Sarah Essen-Gordon, he hadn't become so monstrous as to appear entirely irredeemable. Not to mention, Bruce hadn't accrued such an extensive Family by that time, which Joker hurt in different ways and which would make any current rehabilitation attempt led by Bruce personally so difficult. It follows that Bruce offering to help and Joker accepting that help would not have been such an impossibility then as it is today, in more ways than one. Besides, Joker would undoubtedly demand Bruce's involvement in his rehabilitation, if Bruce himself wouldn't take over with barely any prompting; after all, his offer to Joker in TKJ is not just "I could help you", it's also "we could work together". It shows that Bruce has thought about it extensively, has imagined a future with a Joker who's by his side.

But well... then there's the issue of the power imbalance. To be honest, it's been a while since I read HWA, but the reason why I never felt the need to write a story like that myself is because HWA tackled the major issue with any Batjokes rehabilitation story so well-- which is, put simply, Bruce getting to have too much control over Joker. Bruce's need for control is almost all-encompassing, and the reason why Joker is his nemesis is Joker's utter defiance of it. Bruce cannot fully understand Joker, hence he cannot predict or control Joker, and that's... unique. To differing degrees, Bruce controls everyone around him; he has back-up plans for his back-up plans in case someone goes rogue, in case he needs to take down close friends and allies. He knows exactly what emotional buttons to push to get the people around him to do what he thinks is best. But Joker isn't like that, and it's crucial to them being equals that Joker stays like that. However, if Joker is in Bruce's power as Bruce tries to "fix him" the way he thinks is best... the power balance becomes massively skewed. And Bruce's need for control would rear its ugly head in so many ways, while for Joker this would mean constant doubt and resentment about having to be who Bruce wants him to be-- otherwise, Bruce would turn off the flashlight half way across. HWA feels like an accurate way the story could go in canon because it deals with this, precisely. With the trust issues that would arise for both Bruce and Joker, with Bruce's need for control and ideas of normality. No matter how a rehabilitation scenario played out for Batjokes, if Bruce is personally involved in it, I do think this will always happen similarly.

Now, HWA isn't finished, and I don't know what Dracze has in store for it so I won't speculate, but I'm very much looking forward to how this tension between them would break. (And I want to make the point that it doesn't matter that it's a WIP, or if/when it gets updated-- this is an amazing story and we're lucky it's being shared with us.)

#hah. realizing that in a way FTS is a bit of a negative to HWA. but I can't rant about it 'cause I'd spoiler the whole thing #...for when I actually update my own damn WIP haha #asks #half way across #batjokes #batjokes fanfic

[perenlop]

starfall bit that i cant really imagine seeing a way to organically put in since it's part of a time skip, but sometimes i like to make myself sad and imagine atlas holding asha's egg for the first time and the first thing he notes is how small it is in his arms, thinking back to when he had to take care of quinn and when he got her egg, it was like half his size and it just hits him really hard in that moment how unfair it was that he had to raise a child when he was one himself....

#so normal about how atlas's childhood was just completely and utterly stolen from him in more than one way #also ignore that one art i did that directly contradicts that size difference uhhhh that was a bit its not canon #its almost kind of a shame im skipping this part bc the unspoken negative parts of atlas/quinn's relationship just bubble to the surface #where like. atlas is now grown up and taking care of his issues and having his own Biological child #and to quinn its like. where does that leave the dumb kid he got stuck with when he was an abused 8 year old? #how this kid will just inherently have a better life bc she has a stable home with an actual adult caretaker #also like how atlas has a biological family he can eventually find and go home to while she has nothing. her bio family is wiped out #she cant even say she has memories of them #and now atlas is building his own family and she thinks there's no room for her in it especially since shes so ''awful'' #echoed voice

[beholdthemem]

Well, on a positive note, I can at least say that I've finally started bonding with my sister's boyfriend as opposed to making awkward stilted small talk while we both wait for her to reappear and save the conversation.

#personal #he is a nice kid it's just that neither of us were ever quite sure what to say beyond just Generic Politeness #but there's nothing like a group 911 incident to break the ice and get you all to talk like normal people afterwards. #scared the shit out of him. i think this was his first experience with it poor dude. #when i left today he was still hanging out with taly because neither he nor taly wanted her to be alone and i ended up leaving him with #over 40 bucks for takeout because we have taly food here but the pickings for people without dietary restrictions #are slim and i was worried about him not being willing to leave to go eat and just skipping food altogether. #sweet thought but last thing either of them need. #just shoving him a wad of bills like 'here i gotta head out but please eat' #i think an ambulance has come to the neighborhood like. 5 times since I've lived here #and 3 of those times have been for us. #saw the older brother from the end of the block going back in without a word after coming out to see what was going on #and while normally i have no issue with that one- he's a bit of a hermit and put up with a lot from us neighbor kids when we were little #without bitching about it it's just tge younger brother i can't stand- i couldn't help feeling a little bit scathing about that. #okay there are you satisfied? did you get your look? your entertainment? you gonna go back home and be like It Was That Family Again 🙄? #gonna go back to your quiet life and your jackass brother? #ugh. I've gotten very mean lately. not to anyone in person i don't say anything that would hurt anyone's feelings #i just find myself... thinking them now. when i didn't used to. #it isn't nice. i wish i didn't.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

#transgender #trans history #transsexual #transphobia #Magnus Hirschfeld #holocaust #holocaust denial #book burning #j.k. rowling #jk rowling #just in case you missed what i mean by all this: go fuck yourself anon :) #trans people have always existed #and we will always exist #if you really wanna pick a fight with me over well-documented history then you better bring in some sources to back your shit #queer history #queer #lgbt+ #lgbta+ #lgbt #lgbt history #edit: i finally got around to those damn image IDs. i am so very sorry for totally forgetting that's my bimbo moment of the month #also real quick i thought about adding an image of the actual building but the only one i can find has a Nazi parade in front of it #it was taken the day of the book burning raid and honestly if i were to include it then i'd add it to the first few paragraphs #and i think the story's better told when you uphold the hope Magnus Hirschfeld and all the researchers he worked with had #also keeps being brought up: yes Hirschfeld was a eugenicist. it was a popular belief set that was only discredited after WW2 #Hirschfeld died in 1935. he literally didn't live long enough to see science turn against those beliefs and practices #considering how he changed his mind on transitions i like to think he would've changed his mind on eugenics too if he'd lived

[rinrinlovee]

americans are still asleep time to sadpost

#europeans look away <3 #I am . so tired #of everything #I'm always in some kind of pain and grieving and cold and always depressed #I really just want to be taken care of for a while #But I know that won't happen #I am just so exhausted with always having to be the one to drag the beaten corpse that is my mental health out of the ditch again #People will gasp about how I didn't mention my terrible state of affairs when I finally have an actually big breakdown #I often outright say that I'm in pain or stuck in a grief period or have been feeling very depressed and cold recently #It's just that everyone ignores it #People will look me in my dull dead eyes and then go 'yeah she's normal' #I miss him so much #He truly was the only one to ever care for me at that level #I miss being the favourite and number one person and being unconditionally loved for once #Just like the rest of my life though now I am once again doomed to be the disposable friend #Cursed to linger on the outside of the friend group envious of the laughter until I'm needed for some skill or random bit of knowledge #Or someone needs another to pad out numbers in a group outing and the preferred friends can't go #I really just want to be held and praised for a few minutes but even such a simple wish proves to be too ambitious #The abandonment issues are acting up again and I have no way to combat that other than desperately trying to make myself useful in anything #In any way #At this point I'd totally rent one of those boyfriends from the wholesome prostitution service #Really just missing the feeling of love right now

[ev-arrested]

You can tell the exact mental state of Dick Grayson based on the music he plays in the car

His entire family monitors his listening habits, and if it's anything but things from the list of genres and artists that Dick normally likes while provably mentally stable, they get concerned.

Tim, texting the group chat without Dick in it: Hey, guys, just needed to let y'all know that Dick picked me up today, and he put on an NF song in the car.

Barbara: Fuck, he's depressed.

Steph: Isn't he always?

Barbara: No, like--more than usual.

-

A week later.

Jason: Y'all, I'm with him rn and he's blasting S&M in the training room. One of you bitches--and I will find out who--triggered some body image issues, and now he's sexualizing himself to cope.

Tim: Did one of you guys call him ugly or smth???

Steph: I would never. I'm not a mean person, unlike you guys.

Damian: Why did you immediately assume it was one of us?

Jason: Because y'all are terrible people.

Tim: I'm not taking this from a literal gang leader.

Jason: But I admit, that is a bit of a jump on my part. It could've been any of Dick's trash friends that he, for some reason, keeps around, so that's on me.

Cass: Monitor him so he doesn't do anything drastic.

Barbara: Let me know if he starts compulsively thinking about becoming a stripper.

Jason: If that happens, there's no saving him.

-

After Dick returns from Spyral.

Duke: Now this just might be me, but I don't think I ever pegged Dick as a metalhead before he went off to work for Spyral.

Tim: Dear god.

Tim: Don't tell me he's listening to SOAD.

Duke: What even is that.

Jason: System of a Down

Duke: Oh, yeah, it's that.

Tim: NOOOOOOO

Duke: What does that mean???

Barbara: He's self-destructive.

Steph: Isn't he normally?

Barbara: No, like--I mean yes, but more explosively.

Jason: His main goal is to blow up...

Barbara: Don't.

Steph: aND THEN ACT LIKE HE DON'T KNOW NOBODY

Jason: HAH HAH HAH HAH

Barbara: This is serious.

-

Steph: He's listening to vocaloid. That's....so odd??? @Damian did you have anything to do with this?

Tim: oh my god

Damian: The answer to this question is of high importance: what song is it?

Steph: Do you think I can speak Japanese??

Damian: Ask.

Steph: omg fine.

Steph: He says it's "Assassin Princess" by Mitchie M.

Tim: Hold on lemme listen to this shit

Damian: It's a good song.

Jason: Okay, but what does that tell us?

Damian: It's not a song I ever played for him.

Jason: So you're telling me he's listening to vocaloid independent of you?

Damian: It would appear so.

Jason: Oh, that's bad.

Tim: The song's about a spy and her partner murdering her ex-boyfriend who betrayed her.

Steph: He's feeling vengeful.

Jason: Oh, that's really bad.

-

Cass: He's playing One Direction.

Barbara: Honestly?? Chances are, he's fine.

Duke: Agreed. He's playing "What Makes You Beautiful", so I doubt it's anything.

Duke: Now if he starts playing shit from their solo careers, we have a problem.

#batman #batfam #batfam shenanigans #tim drake #batfamily #bat family #dick grayson #richard grayson #jason todd #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin dc #dc robin #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #cass cain #black bat #duke thomas #cassandra wayne #oracle #batgirl #batkids #batbros #batboys #damian al ghul #damian wayne al ghul #damian al ghul wayne #ev-arrested

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

call my name and i’ll come running ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru can be irritating, at times. but even if you push him away, he’ll always, always be there for you when you need him.

word count; 8.7k (this was supposed to b a short drabble but i was possessed by the devil halfway through)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, reader n toru have a fight, mild swearing (a couple fucks here n there), hurt/comfort, satoru has communication issues but he’s trying his best, depictions of stalking (reader gets followed by a random creep but satoru comes to the rescue dw), uhh implied thoughts of violence? (satoru wants to Maul said dude but doesn’t), literally just me being in love with satoru gojo for 8.7k words straight

a/n; no thoughts head empty only gojo running through the streets like a wild beast looking for u <33 im normal about him yeah.

“you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

satoru smiles. the sentence isn’t one he’s unaccustomed to hearing.

usually, the words are soaked in an undeniable fondness, as they spill from your lips. rich with exasperated love. one that never fails to have the corners of satoru’s lips curling up, a mellow kind of joy blossoming in his chest.

but now, that fondness is nowhere to be found. 

you sound thoroughly exasperated, and a little bit fatigued. more than anything else, there’s a vague irritation behind the tilt of your voice, something almost cold. it makes all the difference in the world. 

and yet, despite that, a certain someone chooses to pay no heed to the bad omen.

“aw, c’mon. you know you love me, baby.”

satoru is grinning. lighthearted, awfully sweet. there’s a certain smugness to it, though, one he couldn’t wash away even if he was aware of it; you wouldn’t do so even if you could. that smugness is a part of him, one that you’d usually find endearing. 

but right now, it only seeks to further your frustration.

it was a stupid fight, truthfully. completely meaningless. satoru had forgotten to pick up after himself for, like, the fourth consecutive time, and so you grew annoyed. not by a lot, but enough that you felt the need to be firm when you reminded him not to make the same mistake over and over again.

but satoru had only grinned, in that self-satisfied fashion of his, and apologized in a way you couldn’t possibly call sincere. then he did what he usually does — promises to work on it. to not do it again. he never follows through, though.

but even that thought wasn’t anywhere near enough to make you truly angry. what really began to irk you was the fact that satoru wasn’t taking you seriously, even in the slightest.

that’s how he always is, when it comes to this kind of thing. and you try to be patient, you do. you try to be understanding. sometimes you even appreciate that he keeps the atmosphere light, but other times, you just can’t help but feel irritated by it.

and the current situation happens to fall into the latter category.

you don’t care if satoru leaves a candy wrapper or two out, every once in a while. of course you don’t. it’s a silly thing to argue about. but would it hurt for him to just listen to you? to try to put himself in your shoes, for once? it’s not about the wrappers, or the undone dishes. it’s about the way he treats you when you complain about it — like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter. even if it obviously does, to you.

so, gradually, the topic of your little argument began to shift, into a conversation about satoru. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to talk about the things that bother you in a serious fashion. about the fact that he so adamantly refuses to take you seriously.

and he just keeps proving your point, with every word that falls from his lips.

at this point, you’re genuinely beginning to feel a little angry. but satoru doesn’t see that as the warning sign it is — he just thinks it’s cute. he’s just been cooing at you, this whole time, despite your numerous attempts to actually explain how much his behavior affects you sometimes. it feels a bit like talking to a wall. satoru keeps on teasing you, even as you try to be firm about your point, and only brushes you off with empty promises to do better and more unneeded comments about how much he wants to hug you when you pout like that.

and you falter, a little. of course you do. you’re weak to satoru. weak to his words, that sweet voice of his, that pretty grin. but that only makes everything worse, because if you let yourself look even a little bit flustered at his comments, he sees that as his cue to continue.

you don’t even know if he’s doing it on purpose, at this point. is he doing it because he knows it’ll annoy you, or does he genuinely not understand that you’re upset? you’d like to think that there’s no malicious intent behind it, but can’t he see how troubled you are? you don’t get it. you don’t get him, and that frustrates you most of all. satoru can be so goddamn convoluted, sometimes.

so you simply can’t help but feel annoyed. angry, even. how long have you been arguing for, at this point? you’re not sure. but you feel the frustration inside of you grow, as the minutes tick by, into something you know will eventually explode.

a sigh falls from your lips, deep and exasperated. a little bit exhausted. “i’m serious, satoru. you’re not even listening.”

“i am!” he protests, stubbornly. childishly. “you just look so cute when you’re all mad. not my fault you’re so distracting.”

satoru smiles, voice sugar sweet, but all you can do is frown. does he really think it’s cute that you’re upset? the thought makes you somewhat sad. but you can’t show that, can’t let that part of you win — you don’t even want to think about the possibility of you crying, because of this. yeah, no way in hell. 

so instead, you channel it into anger. as the blood inside your veins comes to a boiling point, you dig your nails into the skin of your palms, gnawing at your bottom lip and shifting from one foot to another.

”satoru, i’m —” another sigh, sharp and vexed like the blade of a knife. ”i’m trying to have a serious conversation, here. can’t you see that i’m upset?”

satoru takes a moment to look at you, from behind the black glass of his shades.

he can. of course he can see that. you’re frowning, and there’s a crease between your brows, and you keep huffing and sighing every three seconds — you’re obviously, undoubtedly upset. and satoru wants to take you seriously, he does. it’s just that the part of his brain that only ever wants to coddle and tease you keeps persuading him not to.

he’s not lying, either; you do look cute. almost too cute to take seriously, when you’re pouting so sweetly, a little red in the face from all the frustration bubbling inside your chest. you look so small, glaring up at him like an angry puppy. 

satoru can’t help but smile. it’d be impossible not to.

and he will listen to you, will take you seriously. he knows you’re angry, knows you’re upset, and he intends to deal with that properly. but he doesn’t need to do it right now.

just a little more teasing, before he has to stop beating around the bush. satoru dreads it, a little bit, dreads having to genuinely be serious, be open and apologetic. it always feels so strange, so discomforting. 

all that stuff can wait until later. for now, he just wants to see you blush a little more, huff and puff at his limitless affection, that he knows you love deep down. where’s the harm?

(and therein lies the problem. satoru is observant, and typically good at seeing the line that he shouldn’t cross when it comes to you. but there are times when he slips up, times when he doesn’t realize that his words have begun to sting. times when the line becomes blurry, because he knows some part of you enjoys the way he babies you, and sometimes it blinds him to the part of you that doesn’t.)

satoru is smiling. it’s the same as always — big, bright, glazed over with honey-sweet adoration. smug and teasing. it’s such a satoru-like smile that it makes your breath hitch, sometimes, makes your heart race with wonder. but now all it does is annoy you. everything you love about satoru is annoying you, right now. 

in your eyes, that pretty smile of his seems almost taunting. like he’s trying to pick a fight with you, trying to make you even more upset. you don’t want to blow up over something like this, you really really don’t — but for some reason, you feel dangerously close to. it’s not like you at all.

you bore into his eyes with a cold glare, even though you can’t exactly see them with his shades in the way. posture straight and rigid as you try to make yourself look bigger. you must look at least a little bit menacing, like this. right?

“i’m seriously angry with you,” you say, hoping your voice sounds as austere to his ears as it does to yours. “don’t you get that?”

satoru coos, unable to hold the sound back. he doesn’t notice the flicker of hurt in your eyes, only focusing on how the sunset rays frame your figure, kissing your skin with sun-soaked fervor. you look so pretty. and that angry look on your face is too tantalizing not to tease.

“aww,” he croons, inching closer to you. there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that you can’t see, unmistakably fond. “is my little baby that upset?”

you blink. his voice sounds even more sugar-sweet now, obviously exaggerated. there’s amusement there, too — like this is just one big joke to him. you think he must be doing it to belittle you, to embarrass you. speaking to you like you’re some kind of grumpy toddler, and not a grown adult trying to have a serious conversation with their partner. your blood boils, boils, boils.

— and so the cup overflows.

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

it’s almost in a hiss that the words fall from your lips, cold and harsh; they leave the confines of your throat before you have a chance to reconsider them, sudden and sickeningly heavy. crude, too. you’d never be so crass with him under normal circumstances.

but you’re overwhelmed, thoroughly and completely, and satoru is being particularly infuriating. you genuinely feel hurt by the way he’s disregarding your feelings, and that realization stings more than anything. 

so you can’t help but say the words, louder than you meant to, before turning on your heel swiftly and walking out of the room. 

you don’t even have time to register what you’re doing, legs moving on their own before your mind can catch up. brisk and heavy steps carry you to the door, all while you furiously attempt to blink away the tears of frustration that begin to form in your eyes.

it only takes a second for you to grab your jacket — then you’re out.

satoru hears the front door close, echoing off the walls of your apartment. you don’t quite slam it shut, but you close it with more force than usual, and he can’t help but inwardly wince.

a moment passes. 

then, he flops down on the couch, lanky arms and legs dangling uncomfortably off the edges. the groan that slips from his lips is muffled by the soft cushion as he burrows his face into it, while replaying your interaction inside his mind.

satoru can’t help but feel uncomfortable, with this conclusion. a little bit irked. a vague something rests inside his chest, something he doesn’t quite want to admit to feeling. it makes him feel a little bit sick.

(”oh, go fuck yourself.”)

he can’t recall you ever raising your voice at him like that. when it comes to him, you’re usually so patient; soft, understanding, gentle. for you to have snapped in such a way — to have stormed out of the apartment in your anger — he must have pushed you pretty far.

satoru sighs.

he really pissed you off, huh?

(he can never quite seem to get this right, can he?)

it was never his intention to make you genuinely mad. he just lost sight of the line, for a second. that’s all.

and maybe he was also trying to avoid the issue, trying to avoid actually arguing with you. because he hates it. he hates it more than anything. satoru would much rather see you smile and blush than act all serious and sad. 

he just wanted to make you laugh.

was it insensitive? yeah, probably. he just can’t help but fuck this up, it seems. now he’s gone and made you angry — and as much as the sight would usually thrill him, as cute as you look when you’re irritated, a pit of anxiety settles in his gut. everything just feels wrong.

more than anything, satoru feels restless. because, right now, there’s nothing he can do. he can’t chase after you, even if just to apologize — that’d make you even angrier.

he knows he needs to give you space. you were obviously overwhelmed; some fresh air will do you good.

it irks him, though. satoru wants to fix it. he always wants to fix everything, before it even breaks. and even now, all his mind can do is spin in circles, wondering how he could possibly cheer you up.

he’ll just have to apologize, when you get back. and hope you forgive him. maybe he can get you something sweet to munch on, or a bouquet of flowers. would that make everything okay again?

satoru doesn’t know. so he just scratches his head, and tries his damndest not to think of how defeated you looked before leaving.

your steps are heavy, dragging you forward, leading you somewhere you have no knowledge of. it’s chilly out, and the sun is already setting.

everything in the world feels so wrong. like it’s tilted slightly to the left, like the earth stopped spinning around its axis. like everything suddenly lost its saturation. 

you just needed to get away from him, for a while. away from that smug smile, that patronizing tilt of his voice. you couldn’t even stand to be in the same apartment as him. it’s not often you feel that way, not often at all. 

and it only increases your growing frustration. 

you are beginning to calm down, though — you know you are. the crisp evening air and the pleasant mingle of people soothes your muddled senses, smoothing down the crease of your brow and the ache in your chest.

a heavy discomfort, and a growing guilt. that’s all you can feel, as the anger slowly seeps out of you, turning into vapour with every exhale of your breath.

you hate arguing with satoru. you hate it more than anything. the guilt clawing at your chest barely leaves any room for anger — you almost yelled at him. just the thought of doing that to satoru makes you want to cry.

because you love him, at the end of the day, even when he’s being absolutely insufferable. he’s a sweetheart, your sweet boy, always trying to lighten the mood and make you smile. maybe you should have been a bit more understanding; you know satoru’s bad at this stuff, bad with emotions and vulnerability. and deep down, you know he’d never hurt you, not on purpose.

he probably just didn’t realize that you were genuinely upset. it’s a mistake that anyone could make.

but it just makes you feel so frustrated. like he’s not even looking at you. always hiding behind those shades, never opening up. never letting you see him wear anything but a smile. you want him to take it slow, open up to you at his own pace, but that doesn’t make the wait sting any less.

it’s not like you were asking for a lot. first, you simply asked him to pick up after himself. the way you do, the way anyone does. then, you simply asked him to treat you with respect.

a sudden pang of bitterness runs through your chest. sure, you could’ve handled it all better — but he could have, too.

every step you take hits the pavement with an irritated kind of decision. whatever. whatever. for now, you don’t want to think about it — all you want is to walk around and take in the sights, enjoy the peace and quiet.

so that’s exactly what you do.

before you know it, the sun has set, and the moon has risen — shining down and painting the streets in a mesmerizing blue, ephemeral and tranquil. it’s enough to give you some peace of mind, as you lurk around familiar streets, soaking in all the open space. so different from that suffocating apartment, and the man inside it, with that shit-eating grin and those breathtaking eyes.

(he’s called you, a couple times. you haven’t been gone for long — an hour or so, you think, maybe two. some part of you wanted to answer, just to hear his voice through the phone, but the part of you that’s still awfully irritated shut that down immediately. so, stubbornly, you just let it ring.)

the streets are empty, and the sky is dark. the light of all the lampposts illuminate your way, along with the soft flicker of the moon and stars. an endless galaxy stretches out before your eyes, little pale dots of stardust shining like jewels.

an ever-lasting, never-changing sky, that continues on for infinity. limitless. all the space you could possibly want, and then some.

for a moment, you can only look at the glittering stars in wonder, soaking in the feeling of absolute solitude. 

— it doesn’t last, though.

“you alone?”

a sudden voice calls out from behind you. close, discerningly so, enough to make you flinch. you curse yourself for not noticing anything sooner, caught up in looking at the starry sky, in angling your phone to take a picture of it.

hesitantly, you turn your gaze towards the sound — wincing under your breath when you see the man a couple steps away from you. he looks a little crazed, you think, shifting from foot to foot and hunching over. 

oh fuck no.

great, just what you needed. that’s just your luck, isn’t it? your brain can only spin in circles, trying to get your body to react, to run. to do literally anything except just stand there like a deer caught in headlights.

in your nervosity, all you manage is a painfully awkward laugh, as you stutter out a halfhearted response.

“oh — no, i’m just waiting for my boyfriend!” you smile, unconvincingly. your face must be soaked in unease. whatever he wants with you, it can’t be anything good.

at least you said that one word clearly — boyfriend. you can only hope it’s enough to scare him away.

but the man only shifts a little more, emitting a gruff kind of hum, not saying anything else. your spine tingles with apprehension. every cell in your body wants you to leave. he seems a little intoxicated, you think, and the thought only stirs the anxious feeling in your chest further.

god. why does this have to happen to you? why now?

thankfully, you’ve got your phone in hand. as your mind scrambles for solutions, your fingers tap at the screen, urgently scrolling through your contacts. in such a frightened state, your acting must be positively awful, but you make a vague attempt. not like you’re getting any oscars for this, either way.

“sorry — he’s calling me now!” you stammer out, taking a step away from the man. he doesn’t make a move to follow you, so you take your chances and press your phone to your ear, feet carrying you forward with haste.

in your fear, you don’t think twice about calling satoru — but you can’t help but internally wince at the decision, as the anxious patter of your own heart resounds in your ears.

how are you supposed to talk to him, exactly? what are you supposed to say? hey, i know i just told you to go fuck yourself, but will you hear me out? i need your help. 

and you do. you do need his help. all you want is for him to swoop in, to take you in his arms, your knight in shining armor.

satoru’s said it to you, before — that if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to him. that you can always, always lean on him, without exception. 

you know that he likes helping you. likes it when you open up to him, when you put your trust in him. when you aren’t afraid to ask for his help.

so despite everything, you hold your phone to your ear, walking away with brisk steps and praying that he’s not petty enough to ignore your call like you did to his.

back home, satoru is still resting on the couch, tapping his feet and trying to distract himself. 

he’s a little anxious. it’s dark out, and you’re not answering any of his calls. when you’re out of sight, like this, he can’t help but feel a little helpless — worried about everything that could happen to you. but it’s not like he can force you to pick up. 

you’re probably at a friend’s house, or something. telling them all about what an asshole your boyfriend is. as much as the thought stings, satoru hopes it’s true; it’s all he can comfort himself with. anything is fine as long as you aren’t out walking alone, in the cold, in the dark.

entirely caught up in his spiralling thoughts, satoru almost flinches when the phone rings. laying on the table in front of him, just within arm’s reach. it only takes a second for him to react as his gaze flits to the bright screen, and he sees the contact name, the many heart emojis littering it.

with a start, satoru jumps up. his back straightens out, and his hand flies to grab the phone — he’d feel embarrassed at his own eagerness, but right now he just can’t help it. even under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t let the phone ring more than twice, always giddy to hear your voice whenever possible. 

this time, however, he does falter slightly.

he takes a split second to simply stare at the phone in his hand, at the affectionate contact name. what is he supposed to say to you, exactly? how is he supposed to act?

satoru doesn’t know, but as if afraid that you’ll change your mind and stop the call, yourself, he opts to simply answer. he’ll just have to figure out what to say on the fly.

(unfortunately, satoru’s instinctual response to anything is either smugness or playfulness.)

“well, well. look who finally decided to pick up.”

you’re the one who called him, not the other way around — but satoru can’t be bothered with small details like that right now. he only hopes you don’t notice the faint nervosity in his voice, the stiffness as he tries to sound unbothered.

you don’t notice anything at all, mind far too muddled, too clouded by fear. all you can do is take a deep breath, desperately trying to grasp control over your wavering voice.

“— satoru?” you call out, voice meek and frail. the man in question notices it immediately, sitting up a little straighter, but before he can say anything you continue. “i’m sorry, i just — are — are you still at home?”

there’s an anxious tilt to your voice, one that’d be impossible for satoru to miss. your words are a little breathy, spoken in a fast tempo, and he feels a sudden dread crawl up his spine.

something is wrong, his senses alert him.

“yeah,” he hums, trying to hide the turmoil in his own voice. “why? is everything okay?”

the line is quiet, for a second. “it’s just —“ an exhale, as you once again attempt to steer your voice in a less nervous direction. “just… some creepy guy tried to talk to me. i told him i was waiting for my boyfriend and now i’m walking away from him but he’s still following me.” another exhale, as you worriedly sneak a glance over your shoulder. ”i just — i don’t know what to —”

“where are you?”

satoru cuts you off, voice eerily serious. his gaze turned cold the moment he heard creepy guy, legs moving him towards the coat rack by the front door as if on autopilot. 

he’s already left the apartment by the time you answer, looking around you meekly.

“i… don’t know,” you sigh. “i’m not far. i walked past that one crêpe stand by the park but then i, like… continued up that street? and now i don’t really know where i’m going.”

you continue, a little exasperated as your gaze flits around the dark street. attempting to recall your steps, a difficult task with how on edge you feel. “i’ll try to look for a sign, or something,” you gulp. “… i’m sorry. i just wanted to get away from him.”

satoru’s voice is comforting, when he speaks, eager to console you. grounding and soft. “hey, it’s okay. i’m heading there now, alright?” he smiles, hoping you’ll hear it in his voice. “i’ll be there before you know it.”

you do hear it, and his words ease a little of the anxiety in your chest, despite your fear. “okay.” 

the line grows quiet, again, and your brows furrow in worry. “can — can i keep talking to you?” you ask, uncertain. a little pitiful. ”please?”

“of course,” satoru answers, instantaneous. he’s already making his way towards the crêpe stand with decision in his steps, mentally scanning the area ahead. despite his own anxiety at the situation, he attempts to sound as secure as he can possibly manage, desperate to soothe the worry in your voice.

“try to relax for me, okay? nobody’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

his words are absolute, as he consoles you. he sounds so sure of himself, so much that you can’t help but believe in his words. so you nod, emitting a weak hum when you remember he can’t see you.

“can you tell me what you see, baby?”

“uhh…” you look around, blindly, trying to find some sort of meaningful hint around you. “there’s like… some toy shop?” 

satoru only hums. “can you check your location on your phone?” 

you blink. 

of course. why on earth didn’t that cross your mind before? 

“oh — yeah — fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know why i didn’t —“ you sigh, heavy. “hold on.”

following satoru’s instructions swiftly, your gaze scans over the screen. he waits, patiently, already heading past the park and up ahead. as soon as you succeed in finding the name of the street, you echo it to him.

satoru sighs, a little relieved. “okay,” he hums. “i’m not that far away. i’ll be there soon.” he only hopes his words can soothe your fear, even a little. “is he still following you?”

you glance behind you, and meet the gaze of the stranger. just like you were afraid of, he’s still following you — if anything, he seems to have gotten a little closer. with a jolt, your heartbeat picks up.

“yeah,” you gulp. 

satoru’s chest tightens. he emits a low hum. “just hold on. i’ll hurry.”

focusing only on the tilt of satoru’s voice, you try to calm your breathing. you just want to see him. the thought of doing so is the only thing keeping your trembling ribcage intact, at this point. 

you swallow a shaky breath.

“thanks, toru.”

a sudden pang of ache sprouts in satoru’s chest, like thorny vines curling around his ribcage. his heart hurts. you sound so scared, so very small. 

this is all his fault, he thinks. all of it. he got too careless; none of this would’ve happened if he had only been more considerate. if he had just stopped you from leaving and apologized, or hadn’t upset you in the first place. then he wouldn’t have to hear that scared little voice, wouldn’t have to imagine your body shaking like a leaf in the cold night. so far away from him. 

but satoru can’t beat himself up over it, not yet. there’ll be more than enough time for that later. for now, he needs to get to you — that’s the only thing on his mind.

so he lets his feet carry him forward, running towards your location with bated breath. he’s sure you can hear it, through the phone, even though he tries to contain it.

the sound consoles you, if anything. it reminds you that satoru is there, that he’s on his way. that there’s no need to be scared. 

but you can’t help but freak out, a little, when you hear the man call out from behind you.

“hey!” he slurs, stumbling towards you with unsteady steps. his voice is loud, angry, and it sends your mind reeling into panic mode.

a flinch overtakes your body, before you stumble forward, walking even faster than before. you’re almost running now, breath hitching as you gulp. satoru hears it all — your panic, the echo of the man. his own tempo picks up.

“baby, calm down, okay?” he consoles you, voice concerned and honey-sweet. “just keep walking. i’m almost there.”

“sorry —“ you squeak out, between flurry breaths. breathing uneven, laboured and anxious. but you try your best to calm down. “‘s just scary.”

it almost feels physical, the way it irks him. satoru wants to pull you close, more than anything, but he can’t. and that just makes the calamity inside his chest grow, clawing at his ribcage as if trying to escape, to go to your side. 

(he never, ever wants to hear that kind of fear in your voice again.)

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re doing good, honey. listen — he’s not gonna touch you. i won’t let him. you have nothing to be scared of.”

you nod, even as you exhale a shaky breath. ”i know.” 

and you do. you know there’s a truth, to satoru’s words, one that’s never failed you before.

because satoru is your safe space, at the end of the day — he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and sometimes he’s bad with emotions. but he tries, you know he does. and, more than anything else, you know that he’ll always, always be there when you need him. he’ll always be there to protect you. 

and a part of you is sure that everything will be okay, as long as he’s around.

(it’s easy to forget how trustworthy satoru really is, how much he cares. how dependable he is. and how serious he can get, when he truly needs to be, despite his childishness. it’s moments like these that remind you of that.)

but it’s still scary, at the end of the day. you can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a little lost in the world. because you and satoru just fought, you just told him to go fuck himself, and yet here he is. running to your side, in the middle of the night, because you’re scared and alone and you need him.

the man continues to shout, behind you, muttering curses you can’t quite make out. you look over your shoulder nervously, steps hurried.

and satoru runs like a man possessed, through the moonlit streets, gaze scanning the area like a wild beast. his most visceral instinct is screaming at him, tugging at his flesh and bones, desperate to protect you. to comfort you. to wash all your worries away. 

as he makes a sharp turn, he momentarily stops the movement, halting to look around. he thinks he must look a little crazed, with the moonlight illuminating his eyes, but he couldn’t care less.

especially not when his gaze lands on a certain person, further down the street — small and alone.

your eyes meet his.

with the darkness of the street, it’s hard to make anything out, but the light of the lamppost helps. though even without it, satoru’s sure he’d know it was you, just from the sensation that unfurls in his chest as his gaze lands on your figure. 

an audible sigh of immense relief falls from his lips, and his tense shoulders relax, eyes softening just a tad. he hears a similar noise coming from the phone in his grasp, and he assumes that means you recognize him too. not bothering to end the call, he puts it in his pocket, walking over to you with brisk steps. 

you stumble towards him, yourself, the worried crease between your brows now smoothed away. the closer he gets, the faster you move, until you can see the blue of his eyes. two pocket-sized moons.

satoru swoops you in for a hug before either of you can say anything.

he cradles you close, awfully close, so close you can hear his heavy breathing against your ear. it tickles your neck, along with his soft hair, and you shiver. his fragrance envelops your senses, a blend between fresh laundry, strawberries and some expensive cologne. your favorite scent in the world. 

and suddenly, the world is devoid of danger. nothing can get to you while satoru’s there. all that exists is you, and him, and the soft flicker of the moon.

satoru squeezes you tightly, ensuring himself over and over again that you’re safe. he might be squeezing you a little too tight, but he can’t bring himself to think about that just yet.

finally, that growing calamity inside his chest is satiated. winding down at the feeling of you pressed up against him, the indisputable proof that you’re okay. with you in his arms, satoru feels like everything is alright, again.

the fear inside his chest, so foreign it leaves him shaken to the very core, finally begins to dissipate too. he doesn’t think there’s anything that makes him feel quite as hopeless as the thought of not being there for you when you need him. he never wants to feel that fear again. it’s suffocating. it crushes his lungs.

all he can do is hold you close, his big palm smoothing down your hair, the back of your head, your spine. warm and comforting. keeping you steady against him. he can feel your heartbeat, rapid and anxious, so fast that his heart aches. satoru is eager to soothe you, eager to make it go away.

”i’m here, baby,” he breathes, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. ”you’re safe now.”

the words are spoken softly, right by your ear, and you exhale a shaky breath. you’re bundling up his clothing with your fists, anchoring yourself to him. after a little while, you let go, opting to wrap your arms around his midriff instead. nuzzling into his broad chest, you try to blink away your tears and contain your sniffles.

you nod against him, and satoru kisses the crown of your head.

and, finally, his gaze strays. it falls farther down the street, until it lands on a certain man — shifting from one foot to another. watching you both in silence.

the calamity inside his chest rouses from its slumber, once more.

satoru makes sure to keep his hands on you, still rubbing your back with one steady palm cradling the back of your head. keeping your face hidden in his chest, safe and secure.

then he raises his head, back straight, full height on display as his eyes meet the stranger’s. he can tell they do, even with the distance, the darkness of the street.

and satoru knows he looks menacing. he knows the light of the lamppost illuminates his figure perfectly, framing his tall stature and broad shoulders. and he knows the moonlight caressing his skin illuminates his face, his cold eyes — blue and uncanny, glowing even brighter than the moon. staring daggers into the man’s soul. if looks could kill, there wouldn’t even be any remains left to find.

the man stiffens, visibly, and satoru delights in it. he doesn’t leave, though, and for a second satoru wonders if he’s really intoxicated enough to come closer — 

but, sure enough, all he does is stagger a little. then he walks away, grumbling under his breath, hands in his pockets.

and satoru isn’t satisfied, with this conclusion. not in the slightest. he wants to run up to the man, wants to hold him up by the throat, wants to tell him off. because he has the nerve to terrorize someone like that, stalk them with intentions he knows can’t be anything but revolting. the nerve to do that to you, of all the people in the world —

satoru doesn’t know if he’s hated anyone quite as much. 

and a part of him wants to make him cower. make him fear for his life, just to make sure he never does anything like this again. leave him with a fear so great it’ll linger for as long as he’s alive.

(and a more animalistic side of satoru, one he doesn’t want to acknowledge, wants to do things that are much, much worse.)

— but you come first. without question, and without exception. he refuses to leave you alone, and refuses to make you look at the man for even a second more. 

so he’ll focus on you, entirely.

he can tell you’re still shaken up, heartbeat pulsating against him, little flutters of life prickling his skin. there’s a desperation in the way you hug his waist, like he could disappear at any moment. like he’ll slip away if you don’t keep him close. the sight tugs at satoru’s heartstrings. 

his first priority is to soothe you, always and forever. so that’s exactly what he does.

satoru smiles. it’s small, in the wake of the situation, but awfully sincere. fingers reaching down to trace over your jaw, he gently urges you to look at him; when you do so, hesitant, he cups your cheek with his palm.

your teary eyes feel like daggers to his heart, an unmistakable proof of his failure. his failure to protect you, to keep you safe and happy. but at the same time, he’s glad, from the bottom of his heart — that you’d let him see you like this. even after everything.

you look very meek, blinking the tears away as you look into his eyes. they’re bright, and comforting. you wonder if he left the shades at home, if he rushed over here so hurriedly that he didn’t think to bring them with him. you’re happy, in any case — the effect they have on you is undeniable. 

you can’t bring yourself to look away, consoled by the flickers of white inside his irises, like fluffy clouds in the blue sky. ever-lasting, never-changing.

satoru tilts his head, smile sweet and understanding. ”that was scary, hm?” 

his voice is tender, somehow so mature. like he’s some older, wiser being, comforting a scared child. it’s so soothing, so very grounding.

squeezing your eyes shut, you can only bring yourself to nod, as you nuzzle back into his chest.

”you’re okay now, honey,” satoru coos, smoothing down your back as you sniffle. an immense softness seeps through his whisper. ”i’ll always be here to protect you.”

there’s a truth to the statement, heavy and pious. like an oath, a pledge, something for you to believe in unquestioningly. you allow yourself to soak in the words, knowing them to be true.

you’re safe, now. there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. satoru’s here, and he’s hugging you, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

but you just can’t stop crying.

when you speak up, your voice is weak, barely above a whisper. close to breaking apart at the seams. too tired after everything to resist the guilt inside your veins, you sniffle, and part your lips.

”i’m sorry i yelled at you.”

satoru stills.

then, his gaze softens, considerably. he hears himself coo, softly, palm smoothing down the back of your head. 

his sweet angel. apologizing to him, when he’s the one who started this whole mess. when you’re still so shaken up. because he let you leave the house angry, because he made you angry in the first place. because he didn’t see how important the discussion was to you.

(“you’re not even listening.”)

yeah. he wasn’t. he didn’t really want to.

an acute sense of shame. an intense guilt. that’s what he’s been trying to push down, all this time. that’s the unnamed something. 

it’s hard for him. to be as sincere as you, as open with his feelings and emotions. as mature. because even in a situation like this, you can swallow your pride and frustration, and apologize. even when you aren’t in the wrong. you’re always the bigger person, always the one to give in first, because he’s too stubborn to do so himself.

next time, satoru pledges, he won’t let you. next time he’ll be the one to swallow his pride.

because, yes, being vulnerable and admitting that he was in the wrong makes him feel a little like he’s being skewered alive — but you’re important to him. he loves you. and he wants you to know how much he trusts you, how special you truly are. 

if he can show you that, by being a little sincere, a little serious, then any discomfort he feels in the process is a small price to pay.

satoru’s lips meet the crown of your head, as he encircles your smaller frame, arms reaching around your neck to pull you close. he rests his jaw lightly on the top of your head, breathing in your scent. ”you have nothing to apologize for, baby.”

a pause lingers between the words he’s already said and the ones he yearns to say, but can’t seem to pull out from within his throat. it takes effort, to squeeze them out; but every time he replays your own apology in his mind, it gets a little easier. he squeezes you lightly before opening his mouth, as if to give him strenght.

“i’m sorry.”

you blink. 

for once, satoru sounds sincere when he apologizes — almost painfully so. bordering on something you think may be nervosity. you try to look up, to catch a glimpse of his expression, but he keeps you hidden in the crook of his neck.

”i was being immature,” he continues, sighing. you don’t know if you’ve ever heard satoru sound so uncomfortable. ”you know how bad i am with this stuff. but i never want to — you know.” 

he makes a gesture with one of his hands, as if that will say the words for him.

“— i didn’t mean to upset you. honestly.” satoru inhales the cold air, in hopes it’ll make him more honest. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you listen. intently, not missing a word, not a single tilt of his voice. it all sounds so genuine, almost foreign on his tongue. satoru seems to be trying to find the right words, grumbling a little under his breath. 

he’s cute, like this. kind of awkward, but that only makes him cuter. you nuzzle closer to him, comforted by his very existence.

”… i’ll work on it,” he whispers, at last. “i’ll listen to you. i promise. i really, really will.” 

you think satoru’s voice wavers, just a little, when he says his final piece. 

“so please don’t cry.”

this time, satoru doesn’t stop you when you attempt to lift your gaze, loosening his arms around you and raising his head from where it rests on top of yours. 

your eyes meet. satoru is smiling, weakly. he tilts his head, looking at you with something you could only ever describe as love.

”okay?”

such a lovely smile. so painfully genuine. his eyes are on full display, shining in the dark of the night, like splotches of moonlight. like someone stole the moon down to earth, and carved out little pieces to put in his irises. an ethereal hue.

he’s so gorgeous. hair just a tad messy, tousled from all the running he did to get here. cheeks a little red from the cold. when he smiles, his eyes crinkle. but he looks almost pained. 

(he was so, so worried.)

blinking away the tears clinging to your lashes, you simply stare, entirely mesmerized by the sight. satoru’s thumb goes to wipe at your glassy eyes, smoothing away the drops that threaten to fall. you want to engrave his expression into your memory, so you can never forget it. but it’s just a little too much.

so you hide in his chest, once more. the word that falls from your lips is tiny. “okay.”

satoru smiles, kissing the top of your head with a relieved exhale. bathing in your presence, still reeling from his show of vulnerability. he feels a little like he just cut himself open, let you peek inside his ribcage. the night air stings his skin. 

but you’re so warm, hugging him tightly, breathing and heartbeat finally relaxed. 

(he doesn’t mind it, not if it’s you — having you look inside his chest. if you asked, he’d let you build a shelter there. right between his fourth and fifth ribs.)

now that the words are out of his throat, they don’t burn at all. satoru feels a little silly, for being so scared to say them out loud. he knows you’d never use them against him.

all you do is snuggle closer, as if silently conveying your forgiveness.

you stand there for just a little while longer, wallowing in the tender atmosphere. finally, satoru makes a move to leave, and you begin to walk back home.

“sure you’re okay now, baby?”

you nod, exhaling a flurry breath. it turns into vapour in the cold of the air, drifting up and dissipating in the expanding starry sky. “yeah. thanks for coming so quickly.”

“of course,” satoru only says, choking back a yawn. 

your hands are intertwined, and he’s halfheartedly swinging them back and forth. it soothes your anxiety, and satoru’s protective instincts. you know neither of you will slip away, like this.

you shiver a little, subconsciously inching closer to satoru to protect you from the harsh bite of the midnight breeze. he notices, giving you a glance and a tilt of his head. “you cold?” 

“just a little,” you mutter, smiling weakly as you look up at him. ”i’m fine.”

satoru huffs. did you really think he’d be dissuaded by such a weak retort? there’s no way he’s letting you walk around all cold and shivering. 

so you come to a standstill, as satoru begins to shrug off his coat. he refuses to let go of your hand for even a second, making the process slower than usual — your heart flutters a little, as his fingers curl around yours, delicately. 

when he finally gets it off him, he wastes no time in draping it over your shoulders. it’s big on you, warm and soft, shielding you from the chilly air. satoru can’t help but giggle sheepishly, as he always does at the sight — you look so cute. 

“c’mon. let’s go home,” he grins, ruffling your hair teasingly.

satoru doesn’t feel cold, not in the slightest, as he holds your hand tightly. just your presence is enough to warm his bones to the marrow.

the silence between you is comforting and soothing, as you continue to walk. hand in hand, admiring the starry sky. you’re both too tired to speak — but satoru does so, anyway.

“i meant it, y’know.” satoru sounds sleepy, but earnest. ”i really will work on it.”

he doesn’t look at you when he says it, yawning softly and stretching his free arm. gaze fixed on the morning star. 

“oh.” you pause, squirming a little. sheepish. “thank you. i’m sorry that i — i mean.” a sigh. “i probably overreacted a little.”

satoru shakes his head, waving off your guilt. “nah. you’re right. i never want you to feel like i’m not taking you seriously.”

his gaze meets yours, tentatively. his eyes shine like wedding rings. “you mean a lot to me.”

the sincere words manifest themselves as a heavy pressure to your chest, closing in on your heart as if crushing it. it’s a pleasant sensation, though, overwhelming as it is. you’re a little scared that your knees will buckle if he keeps this up, but even if they do, you wouldn’t want him to stop — satoru’s love is terrifically overwhelming when there’s nothing to hide it, when it’s just love and nothing else.

but you’d never reject it. you’d let it crush you to death with a smile on your face.

all you can do is avert your gaze, afraid that you’ll fall into the blue sea of his eyes if you don’t. heavy thumps of blood resound in your ears as your heart beats, warmth spreading throughout your entire body.

“… you mean a lot to me, too.” you echo, holding his hand just a little tighter. warmth rises to your cheeks. “i just felt really frustrated, i guess. like you were looking down on me. i know you weren’t actually, though.”

satoru chews at the inside of his cheek, almost anxiously. “i know i can be a little much sometimes,” he says, tasting the words on his tongue. “and i appreciate you for putting up with that. i’m sorry i let it go too far. i’ll be more considerate.”

your heart stutters in your chest. you’re not sure what to say — the way he forms his words makes them feel so absolute. and you believe him.

“i’ll be more considerate, too,” you echo, looking down at the pavement. “i shouldn’t have blown up like that.” a pause. you mumble, quietly, a little embarrassed. “i shouldn’t have told you to go fuck yourself.”

satoru breathes out an amused huff, chuckling lightheartedly. his eyes carry a teasing glint when they meet yours. “i probably deserved that. no worries.”

“still,” you pout. satoru giggles. 

“we’ll both work on it, then,” he hums, tilting his head to find your gaze. “right?”

you blink. a small smile breaks out across your face. “right.”

satoru swings your hands back and forth, looking awfully happy with himself. you’re proud of him. really.

“oh —“ he says, breaking the sleepy silence once again. “and i’ll stop leaving wrappers around, too.”

this time, you’re the one who huffs out an amused breath. “thank you,” you grin, looking up at him. he thinks the sight is terribly precious.

a yawn leaves your lips, drowsiness sneaking its way into your bloodstream. you’re not sure if it’s due to the dark, or if you’re just a tad exhausted after all the arguing and panicking.

satoru notices, and gets an idea.

“you tired, baby?” he coos, eyes teasing but soft around the edges. “d’you want a piggyback ride?” 

when you give him a look, sleepy and kind of exasperated, satoru grins. you huff out an amused breath, just a tad embarrassed, but it only spurs him on.

so he crouches down, one knee meeting the pavement, letting your hand slip from his. you blink, tiredly, at the loss of contact. you can’t see his face, but you know he’s wearing that lovesick, smug little grin of his. 

”c’mon. your big, strong boyfriend’ll carry you.”

satoru’s feeling playful, you can tell. that’s usually a bad sign — but you can’t deny that you’re tired. and the prospect of getting carried all the way home is eerily tempting. 

your gaze falls on his back, and his broad shoulders. silently, you walk towards him, and wrap your arms around his neck. satoru holds you up by your thighs, and then stands up, jostling you a little; he does so without a hitch, and you’re reminded of how strong he really is. his grip is secure, and you trust him not to drop you, no matter what. 

you let out a content sigh, basking in the chill of the midnight air as you nuzzle your cheek against his soft hair. satoru chuckles.

”my sleepy lil’ sweetheart,” he coos, voice a tad raspy. ”lucky thing you’ve got me, huh?”

there’s a softness to his voice, despite the teasing tilt obscuring it. you can only huff out a breath, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and cling to him tighter.

satoru will get you home safe. he can be annoying, outright insufferable, and he can be bad with emotions — but you can always, always trust him on that. 

so, with his coat shielding you from the chilly air, and his back warming you up as he carries you back to your apartment, you allow your eyes to flutter shut; enjoying the cozy feeling his presence brings you.

he’ll always be there when you need him.

#NOBODY LOOK AT MEEEEE i was having a gojo moment ok. #i just think hes. the perfect man. a silly goofy princess 98% of the time but when u need him to be there hes so comforting n secure. #i Need him. #also obsessed w the idea of gojo only calling u ’honey’ when hes being particularly sincere like that does smth to me man. #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader

[soapyblubbles]

⋆｡˙ runaway pets ˙｡⋆

pairings: dark regulus + dark poly marauders

warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, implied kidnapping, threesome, implied fivesome, voyeurism, overstimulation, (light) slapping, choking, stockholm syndrome, smoking, shotgunning, pet names, etc.

a/n: please enjoy the much more comprehensive version of one of my very first works. there were a lot of inconsistencies and issues with the first version. I added a lot more detail to this and it honestly feels more like a one-shot than a drabble now. i'll add the unedited version at the bottom just incase anyone wants to take a peak. anyways, happy reading <3

“I told you it’d be worse if you went to get help.” Regulus sits on one end of the bed, a small indulgent smile flitting across his lips. As if nothing was wrong. 

As if you weren’t being fucked within an inch of your life.

You turn your head to him, breathless pants leaving your mouth as Remus continues to rock into you. His hips slap into your own at a steady pace. How long had he been sitting there?

The air is stifling, sweat beading along your forehead and the small of your back. The arm around your waist only adds to the oppressive feeling, Remus’ strong grip keeping you upright and in place.

Your arms shake from exertion, and you have to force your hands to unclench from where they’re fisting the damp sheets.

With a whimper, you reach for Regulus, trying to find the comfort you once found in him before it all. Before he had selfishly stole you away. Before you knew of the darkness lingering just beneath the surface.

You weakly try to pry off the arm wrapped around you, but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens, pulling you up until your back hits Remus’ firm chest.

“Want sir now. Please- Remmy-” The lanky brunette ignores you, muttering something unintelligible into your neck as his thrusts speed up. Your attention was stolen from him. He doesn’t like that- not one bit.

Your face crumples at the silent dismissal, the tears you’d been holding in falling just as you reach another trembling high.

“Please, m’sorry sir- c-can we please go home now?” You gasp out. Your limbs burn, they have been for a while you suppose, but still you try to ignore it, concentrating on just Regulus for now.

But he only hums noncommittally, standing as he makes his way to the makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Regulus rubs his jaw in mock thought, scrutinizing the scene before him while he pours himself a glass of firewhiskey. The smell of cinnamon saturates the air, adding to the heavy atmosphere.

“Thought you wanted to come here-“ He gestures around the room, lazily draping himself on the nearby armchair. “For help.” The last word is said with a sneer and laced with so much venom that you balk.

Even though you can tell he’s done arguing about it, you still sob out: “I’ll be good- promise.”

You hear Sirius let out a scoff. He’s leaning against the headboard, his shirt unbuttoned and a lit cigarette in hand, doing nothing but watching as his friends ruin you.

He’d been the one to call Regulus when you came running to their house, barefoot and in nothing but a frail, white nightgown. “You’re already being good here, pup- s’no use in leaving.” He makes his way towards you, squishing your cheeks together, your lips forming an o-shape.

He blows smoke into your mouth, smirking when you cough at the burn. “Y’already gonna be punished anyway, might as well do that here- ain’t that right Reggie?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, breaking his normally composed demeanor. “Don’t call me-”

“Hush, I can’t focus when you lot keep talkin.” James' speech is slurred as he speaks up, moving his head slightly from between your legs. He pays no mind to the way Remus pumps in and out of you. His mouth is so close to where the two of you meet that you can feel his cool breath against your clit as he talks.

“S’annoying.”  

You clench around Remus at the feeling, and the man in question groans, giving you a particularly rough thrust.

James goes back to work at that, humming softly as he drinks in yours and Remus’ juices. You let out a another strangled moan, instinctively trying to tilt your hips away.

Instantly Sirius’ face darkens with anger, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so puppy.” A hand shoots out to grab the base of your neck as James’ hands grip the front of your thighs tightly.

“Don’t fuckin’ run away from him- you understand?” 

You nod shakily, chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him with unseeing eyes.

“Just take it like a good girl, princess.” James cooes, lightly nibbling on the inside of your thigh. You let out a startled yelp.

“What d’you say bunny?” Remus asks from behind you, hips slowing as he tries to find that spot. Trying to coax the words out of you. You whine, unable to answer until Sirius gingerly slaps your cheek, raising a sharp brow at you.

“M’sorry- m’so sorry Jamie.” Your head is spinning, an ache growing until it becomes practically mind numbing.

At this point it’s all you can focus on.

“Thought I taught you better than that pet.” Regulus chides, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He looks only slightly more disheveled than before. His hair is not neatly combed back like it was earlier, and his tie considerably loosened. His fingers dig into the cushioned arms of the chair, the veins in his forearms flexing in a way that makes your mouth water.

You lick your lips. “Sir-”

Remus shushes you. “S’ okay bunny- y’just have to make it up to him.” You cry out as he brushes against your g-spot, finally finding what he’s been looking for this whole time.

Each hit of his hips is aimed perfectly, giving you no room to breathe until you’re a gasping mess.

James’ mouth certainly doesn’t help. His warm tongue suckles at your clit, unrelenting as he brings you to that exhilarating peak over and over again.

Eventually he breaks away, wiping the wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand. A feral grin forms as he pushes the hair away from your face, cupping your teary cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad now was it? You can take a little more, right?”

Sirius answers before you can even think to open your mouth, a mocking frown on his face. “I don’t know about that Prongs- she seems a right mess already, huh? Don’t think she can go on.” He slaps between your legs, and a panicked moan startles its way out of you. 

You quickly come undone, so worked up from before, but the torment doesn’t end there.

“I think you're right, Pads.” James murmurs, as he slips his fingers through the mess of your cunt, the tips of his fingers grazing the base of Remus’ cock.

It’s enough to startle a groan out of him.

Sirius grabs onto your hips, reaching around James to take control of the even pace Remus set. “C’mon pup, make a mess on Moony’s cock- be a good little cockslut for us.”

He bounces you viscously atop Remus, everyone watching intently as you become a drooling mess.

Your set your lidded gaze on Regulus, whose self-control looks like it’s seconds away from snapping. 

Yet he makes no move to stop the situation.

“Come on princess- fuckin’ come for us. Make a fucking mess.” James growls into your ear, pinching your clit roughly. Tears well in your eyes, body tensing as you are, yet again, pushed off the edge.

“Fuck- such a good bunny.” Remus curses. 

Sirius and James mock your high pitched cries, taking a sadistic pleasure in watching you sob at the overstimulation.

Your limbs go slack, Remus panting heavily as he fucks you through it all, his breath fanning against your neck. He kisses your temple softly and you whine, barely able to move, even as the aftershocks flow through you. 

The three continue to overstimulate you, and Remus lets out a breathy chuckle when Sirius lets go of your hips, letting you fall face first into James’ chest.

“S’your turn princess. We’re not doing all the work for you- besides you still have three more cocks to go.”

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

UNEDITED VERSION

#hunnie writes ☀︎ #dark hunnie ☾ #sirius black x reader #dark sirius black x reader #dark sirius black #sirius black smut #james potter x reader #dark james potter x reader #dark james potter #james potter smut #remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin x reader #dark remus lupin #remus lupin smut #regulus black x reader #dark regulus black x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders smut

[bambiimutt]

He makes you cry during an Argument.

Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..

ೃ࿔*:･

Headcannons and short stories under the cut!

ೃ࿔*:･

TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!

Jeffrey Hodex:

- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.

-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.

-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.

-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”

-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.

-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.

-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.

Tobias Rogers

- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.

- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?

-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.

-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.

-Ben Lawman/drowned

- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.

-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.

- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.

-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.

- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.

ೃ࿔*:･

“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.

-Masky/ Tim Wright

- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.

- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.

-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.

- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.

ೃ࿔*:･

“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!” Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.

Hoodie/ Brian Thomas

-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.

-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.

-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.

-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.

-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.

-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.

ೃ࿔*:･

“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.

#creepypasta #masky x reader #ticci toby #ben drowned #jeff the killer #hoodie x reader #marble hornets #jeff the killer x reader #ben drowned x reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #masky x you #masky x y/n #hoodie x you #hoodie x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned x you

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

[fever-fluff]

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All

Synopsis: You’re sick of Cassian and Rhysand sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. And Azriel’s tendency to let things slide when it comes to himself isn’t helping. Word Count: 4k (not proof read)

“I just think you’re becoming a bit…”

“A bit what, Cass?” Azriel was not in the mood for this. Sitting in Rita’s, in a booth right to the back while his two brothers pestered him on his love life was not how he wanted to spend the night after he’d returned to Velaris. You had been absent from his bed when he’d finally made it back in the early hours of the morning. Though he wasn’t worried. You had duties to attend to for Rhys as one of his foreign relations advisors, normally starting as soon as you woke in order to enjoy your evenings free of work to spend with him- even if he was the one still doing paperwork.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too… extreme?” Azriel snarled at Cass’ blatant insult to you. But he held his hands up in peace, Rhys cutting in before he could do more damage. “What we’re trying to say, Azriel, is that it seems like you aren’t yourself lately. You’ve been showing up more recently, which is not a bad thing and we’re happy to see more of you. But it’s the reason of these increased showings that has us worried.”

Azriel supposed it was true. He had been showing up more – to social events that is. He was always present when it was just their inner circle, but the regular accepting of invitations to social events that didn’t need his presence was a new thing, something that you had gently insisted on since the two of you had become so close.

He was never one for meaningless interactions and had been pushing himself outside of his comfort zone for quite some time now by giving in every time you looked at him, pleading with those eyes of yours. He could never quite say no when you asked, and begged him, so nicely. But he nodded all the same to the two that he understood what they were trying to say, “I guess. I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. It makes her happy.”

“That’s the thing Az. Sure, it makes her happy. But does it make you?” Cass was trying, really trying not to say the wrong words and have this blow up in his face. Azriel thought for a moment, of all the times he’d watch you interact with others he didn’t even know the name of, never mind their importance to your work, while you linked your arm around his and had him trail along. He was always uncomfortable in the light, always wanting to slink back to the shadows. But you were the opposite, always blooming so lovely in the presence of everyone you deigned to offer your time to. He sometimes wished he could coddle you away from all their adoring eyes and have you all to himself. But he would never cage you like that.

“Not particularly. I do it for her, but sometimes I would rather sit at home while she goes about her work.” His admission was quiet, feeling that if he said it too loud it would carry on the wind and into your ear as you slept.

“What we’re trying to say, brother, is that spending your life with someone is all about compromise. You need to tell her when you don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” Since when has Cassian ever been so wise and all-knowing? He’d bet five gold marks Nesta had whipped that piece of sense into him after he’d thrown another of her books out the window, insisting on ‘a lovely stroll through Velaris’ instead. Azriel knew he was just jealous of the new male protagonist in her recent book series, garnering all her attention throughout the day.

But Cassian’s words had stuck in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Had he been compromising on his comfort for your own? You’d never pressed the issue with him, but he supposed he’d not put much of a front up against it in the past, agreeing almost immediately every time you’d asked for his company.

“You know I respect her and the work she does” Rhys had ordered another round as they settled in for the night of drinking ahead, “she’s one of the best at her job that I’ve ever seen, placating Eris is a testament to that. But she is intense, she has to be. I don’t want that to jeopardise you or your happiness with her in any way in the future. Putting up boundaries with her now is the best way to do that.”

Azriel knew his brothers had always had his best interest in their hearts when it came to things like this. Rhys’ intervention between him and Elain on Solstice years ago was a testament to that. He would have been hurt in a way he would never have come back from. Elain and Lucien’s bond was one of the strongest he’d ever seen – even rivalling that of Rhys and Feyre’s once given the chance. Then he’d met you. You had courted him from the minute you’d met, and he’d preened under the attention he’d longer centuries for. You weren’t his mate; no bond had snapped for him in the time he’d gotten to know you. But he’d worked past that and found that someone choosing to be with him purely of their own volition made it much harder to doubt whether he was worthy of you or not.

So, as they drank on, Azriel let their words mill over in his mind, finally agreeing with their concerns, and decided tomorrow he’d tell you how he really felt about all the parties you were asking him to attend.

Waking up to a hungover Azriel was a rare sight, but an amusing one none the less. You’d gone to bed last night early after reading a note he’d left, saying Rhys and Cass had asked him to drinks to catch up after being away for three months. You were upset, naturally, as you hadn’t seen him either during that time. But Azriel was a people pleaser, and he’d accepted their invitation with no qualms. So instead of wallowing in self-pity of not spending the first night with him back falling asleep in his arms, you had invited Mor and Feyre over to take your mind off it.

They’d left soon after midnight, Feyre wanting to get back to Nyx seeing as his father would be away most of the night. But all those sour feelings had left the second you’d awoken curled into his strong, tanned arms this morning.

Trying to shift in his hold, you’d felt him curl further into you with a groan, wing casting over the two of you to block the ray of sun peering in between the curtains. You laughed, sending a small gush of magic to pull it closed, cutting the bright light off. His hum of appreciation vibrated against your neck while you reached to play with the tresses of dark hair falling in front of his eyes. It was getting long again – which you preferred on him – but he’d cut it soon now that he was home.

“Good morning, love” you’d never tire of the purr the name elicited from the Illyrian warrior beside you, and it rumbled lowly as he reached into your touches further. “How were drinks with Cass and Rhys?”

“Long. Too long. Wanted to come home to you.” his voice, gods his voice. You loved it, the deep tones in the morning unlike anything else you’d ever heard.

“Yeah? I should have realised I’d need to rescue you, nab you back to have you all to myself.” One thing you’d realised in pursuing the Shadowsinger was his need for directness. His heart had been torn so many times that it wouldn’t beat for anything else. And you’d been more than happy to provide.

The morning was slow, full of sweetness and adoration you’d both been missing in his absence. Neither of you had been pressed to rise before noon until your stomach had grumbled its dislike of the lack of food. And so, you’d found yourselves sat at the small table in front of the windows overlooking Velaris, coffee and pastries in hand.

Azriel had woken from his drunken haze, and appeared caught in his own world, more so than usual as you noticed him missing the handle of his mug, for the second time. “Something on your mind, my love.”

His sigh was enough to know you wouldn’t like what he had to say, and your mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of Rhys already assigning him to another mission far from home. “I swear on all that is good if that High Lord of yours assigned something else to you last nigh-”

“He hasn’t. And don’t forget he’s your High Lord also.” Azriel hated when you spoke against any decisions made by his family, which was rare. You were on the same page as them, mostly. But there were some things you disagreed strongly on. Not always living in Velaris had given you another taste of the world, and it faired well for you in your work here. But there were times when it caused temporary rifts between you and your friends, and you weren’t inclined to change if it could be solved with words instead of blades. But when it involved Azriel, you found yourself more and more inclined to picking up something sharp and slicing it into anything that wanted to steal him from you.

“We were… talking. Last night. About a couple things.” Azriel was not as sweet with words as his brother, but to see him lose them completely was new altogether. Putting the pieces together from the non-existent puzzle he’d left for you, you felt your breath hitch slightly, “About us?”

“Yeah…” you didn’t like this Azriel. The unsure and unconfident kind. He had a silent strength you’d admired since the first time you’d met. You’d fallen in love with the male that wasn’t this, and you hated seeing him act like anything lesser than he was.

“Azriel. Whatever it is, please speak to me about it. I want to know.” You’d moved from your chair, coming to sit on the side of his as you laid your hand next to his, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. But the warmth that encased yours was comfort enough to know it wasn’t something that would break the two of you.  

“I – don’t want to go to the – social events anymore.” Your brows pinched in confusion, where was this coming from? “Care to tell me why?”

“I’m not a fan of them. At all really. And I realised I was doing something that wasn’t making me happy. It made you happy, which I’m glad, but I can’t do it anymore. S’ too much.”

You watched Azriel retreat into himself at the admission, but you said nothing as you saw his gaze flicker over the room until it finally landed on you, searching for any anger, or hurt. “If you think I’m angry, I’m not. I understand what you mean, and I’m glad you could tell me.”

“You are?”

You huffed a laugh, “Yea, I am. So long as they’re your thoughts and not your brothers, right?” he nodded, “They are.”

“Okay, no more unnecessary social outings, for you at least. I’ll still have to attend them, considering.” He nodded again, “of course, I wouldn’t assume otherwise.”

You kissed him lightly as you made to get ready for the day, the conversation ending quicker then it began. These mornings were all you really had alone with him, both your professions taking up the rest of your days and swallowing the majority of the daylight- and twilight.

He’d winnowed soon after from the garden after kissing you goodbye, seeming lighter now that he’d voiced his discomfort, and you released a sigh you’d been holding since.

There was a party in three days, one you’d assumed Azriel would attend with you. But now that he’d expressed his feelings about them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Instead, you’d prepare yourself for the emotional and verbal onslaught to come without the Shadowsinger by your side.

You hated these things. Really, really hated them. being in a room full of fae looking to raise their status, their family name in the long list of nobles was always a tiring feet to be around, but it was a necessary evil to your work. Mor stood beside you in all her ethereal glory, and the pair of you looked nothing more than astounding. Emerie was somewhere in the crowd of people, charming her way through each table she rounded. You were sometimes envious of the support she lends to Mor at these times, the two made a good pair in these places, balancing the other out that lead to progress you would only dream of making in such short time.

But it seemed tonight all you would find for yourself was concealed and blatant admissions of fae asking about your seemingly juicy availability.

“Ladies, it’s an honour to have received an invitation to such a grand celebration, pray tell” the male who’d sauntered his way over to the two of you leered in you direction, “has the lovely lady finally been freed from her cage? Should I thank the Shadowsinger for his decision to set you free from you confines that is the Court of Nightmares?” You blanched at his obvious attempt but concealed it under a smile too easy that it felt tight, “I believe you’ve been fed the wrong fruit from the vine my lord, Azriel and I are still quite the pair. I do hope you don’t mean to sully his name when he is not here to defend himself?” your sinister pout had the blood leeching from the males cheeks, and he stuttered himself into a stupor until he could find his feet to walk quickly away.

Sighing, you grabbed a fresh glass of wine, the last going sour from the interaction. Mor’s head leaned to yours unceremoniously, “Mother, that’s the fifth one in the last hour! How often does this happen?”

“Any time Azriel isn’t with me. When he’s accompanied me in the past it stopped a lot of this for the most part. But with my reputation among the courts here and abroad, anyone will try to get their claws into the person holding the most honey pots.” You were feeling the effect of it much sooner than ever before, the mental strain making your mind lag. You’d really hoped Azriel would have been here tonight, but you couldn’t lean on his strength every time.

“That’s why you’ve been bringing him along…” something seemed to click with her. “You know he hates these things. But you wanted him here for support, for you.” You nodded without hesitation, confused as to why her face seemed so stricken by the knowledge.

“There’s something I have to tell you” Mor’s tone was sullen. As she explained, you listened and felt anger wash over you in gulfs. Oh, you were going to murder someone, and soon.

The following weeks after Azriel had admitted his feelings to you were…odd, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. you had been the same as ever to him, loving and oh so understanding when it came to his every need. You didn’t press him to attend the gatherings you had to, opting to inform him instead of your departure. While you were gone, he would catch up on all the paperwork he had waiting, and by the time you came home, his arms would be open and waiting for you to fall into.

But something was still off. He felt it in the way your shoulders slumped more than they usually would after socialising all night. It was still taxing to you, but you had always smiled after when he had attended them with you. Now, you barely had enough energy to lift yourself from his hold, falling straight to sleep once he’d guided you to bed.

Those nights, when you’re too tired to tell him about your day, and instead just curl up against his side, Azriel thinks about the moments of when you’d first met.

Your connection to him was almost instantaneous, you’d follow him everywhere you could. The idle chatter you started with had eventually turned to long and deep conversations, sweeping him along into the early hours of the morning.

Your first kiss, when you’d found him after a more draining mission. You’d helped him bathe, nursing the tension from his back and mind with loving but firm touches to his skin. He’d turned to you in a burst of confidence and captured your mouth with his before he had anytime to think himself out of it. You’d melted into him almost instantly, and the rest had been a blur of tangled limbs and sheets.

The weeks after had been full of secret touches and longing looks, until Cassian had caught the two of you in a heated kiss after venturing to the kitchen for some late night tea. Always the one known for having loose lips, the whole house had known before Azriel could’ve knocked him unconscious, but you had laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance, letting him know that you didn’t mind being claimed by him, if he were okay with you claiming him. No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Gods, he had been in heaven ever since. Having someone to come home to, to reach for in the long family dinner when before he had to watch the mated couples around him stare adoringly at one another. He now had someone to call his own, and he was so glad it was you.

But you seemed to be getting worse as the weeks rolled on, and he couldn’t quite understand why, until Rhysand pulled him into his office.

“She’s taking a leave of absence from her position.” Azriel’s world spun on the wrong axis as he processed the words coming from his brother’s mouth.

“She hasn’t spoken to you about this?” he shook his head, mind spiralling as to why you’d do something like this. You loved your job, more than anything. It gave you a purpose, something to give back to the world.

Cassian ventured in not long after, seeming to already know what was going on, “you’re not communicating again. Azriel, this is gonna really affect your-”

“Affect his what, Cassian?”

The three of the bristled at the sharpness of your tone. Azriel cast his gaze over you. Your eyes seemed darkened by a tiredness that hadn’t been there until a few weeks ago. Even your posture, always one to hold your head high, looked slumped against Mor and Feyre, who stood behind you.

“I was just saying that you both should talk a bit more about-”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of comments on what me and my mate should talk about.”

Azriel stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your- your what?

You sighed, your admission seeming to go amiss amongst the thoughts swirling in you mind, but Azriel couldn’t comprehend how you’d said something like that so…so… casually.

“Azriel, Can I speak to Rhysand and Cassian – alone?” he didn’t feel himself answer, but Mor and Feyre seemed to understand and guided him into the hallway, where the three of them waited with baited breath to hear the onslaught you’d ensue. It wasn’t a secret, how much you detested some of the decisions they made in this court. Hels, you had even come to Eris’ defense more than once during the time of the alliance to put him on the Autumn throne. But this was different, and he knew it deep in his bones.

Mate. You’d called him your mate. But there was no bond. Nothing had snapped in all the time you had known each other. He loved you, infinitely. but that had been a choice you had both made in all that you had gone through, not for some fate woven between you.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in” it was Feyre, “I think we should sit down, get some tea while we wait until they’re finished.”  

So the three of them walked away from the voices on the other side of the door, and made for Feyre’s studio.

“You two need to butt out, now.” You were fuming, white hot rage consumed you as you looked to the grown males in front of you. But they weren’t acting like that, not in all the time you’d known them.

“You-you called Az your mate?”

Shit. Had you? Oh gods he was probably going insane with the thoughts in his head. No wonder he hadn’t answered you. How were you going to explain hiding something so profound from him for as long as you’d known each other.

“What of it.” you were snapping now. You don’t ever snap. That was your charm, ever the collected one, no matter what. But gods they had stuck their noses where it didn’t belong. And you detested it.

 The statement had seemed to shut the two of the up quite quickly, so you continued, happy for the lack of interruption. “I understand you’re looking out for Az; I do. But this is getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Have you ever considered the weight in which Az holds your words? They’re like gospel to him.”

“We were just trying to help, nothing more.” You snorted as the High Lord’s words. Feyre and Mor have known of your secret since you met Azriel, but it seemed the two of them have truly kept it privy to your circle of three.

“Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong does more damage than good?” you were breaking now, the emotions you had welled up the past while cresting. “I wasn’t asking Azriel to those gatherings because I wanted him out of his comfort zone. Gods, I know he detests them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed him. It’s not easy listening to fae ask about your hand in marriage while your mate sits happily at home.”

You took a breath as the two said nothing more. “I came here to tell you that my leave was because I was overwhelmed. It’s a lot sometimes, even for me. And I hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Az without interruption since we met. I was going to tell you both today, about… the predicament. But it seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag, claws and all.”

Gods, how were you going to explain this to him? You’ve kept him in the dark for months. He’ll never forgive you.

“We-acknowledge our misstep. We truly didn’t mean to hurt you, or Azriel. And for that I apologise, for us both.” Rhys’ face was sullen enough for your anger towards the two wash away, and you nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the one who’s hurt him.”

With nothing else to say, you made for the door. Cassian’s voice stopping you just as you reached for the handle, “Just, make sure you get him to listen. He’ll go into his head, and its not a good place.”

You nodded.

 “I know.”

There will be a Part II

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #mor acotar #fem reader #azriel x female!reader #feyre archeron

[toaarcan]

I know this discourse is going to start flaring up again because Takes Off just released, and I've seen bits of it already, but the point of Scott Pilgrim as a series is not that Scott has to go through character development and stop being an ass in order to 'win' the girl of his dreams.

It's that Scott and Ramona are two fundamentally very similar people with a long list of exes who they hurt in very similar ways and they both need to stop that and grow as people in order to have a healthy relationship with each other.

This is highlighted mostly in Books 4-6. Volume 4, Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together, has Scott and Ramona's relationship hit a low point because they both mistake the other for cheating. Ramona thinks Scott is getting too chummy with Lisa, and Scott thinks the same about Ramona and Roxie, and they nearly fall apart because of it.

Volume 5, Scott Pilgrim vs. the Universe, contrasts Ramona finding out that Scott two-timed her and Knives and becoming outraged by it, and Scott being told that Ramona did the same thing to Kyle and Ken. In fact, Scott almost loses to the Katyanagis, and only manages to pull out a win because Kim lies about Ramona having off-screen growth to give him enough motivation to fight back.

And it's in Volume 6, Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour, that this finally gets hammered home. In the aftermath of his and Ramona's breakup, Scott slips into a self-destructive depression where all he does it sit around the house and play old videogames, until Wallace convinces him to go into the wilderness to find his feet again. After Ramona returns, she reveals that she attempted to go into the wilderness and find her footing again, but all she did was sit around her dad's house and watch old TV.

They're so similar to each other that they even mope in the same general way.

They're both hot messes who did some dodgy stuff, the major difference between them is that most of the people Scott hurt were, y'know, relatively normal, while Ramona's exes are mostly crazy people who decided to join up with a "League of Evil Exes" whose main goal is apparently "Murder any of Ramona's future partners and take her back by force."

The books are relatively light on details for how the League actually worked, but it's clear from the second episode of Takes Off that all of them besides Gideon believed that whomever killed Ramona's new partner would automatically be with her again, and they're shocked when Matthew tells them that she rejected him. Meanwhile, Gideon's overall objective wasn't elaborated on in the show, but it's presumably the same as it is in the books: Cryogenically freeze his own seven exes, Ramona included, and use the Glow to brainwash them all into being his girlfriends at the same time.

In Takes Off, Ramona is able to mostly resolve her issues with the Exes herself, over the course of her investigation into who took Scott and faked his death, but the overall difference between the book timeline and the show timeline is that one spotlights Scott's growth, and the other spotlights Ramona's growth.

They're perfect for each other, and it's because they're both hot messes who need to grow the hell up before they can have healthy adult relationships.

#Scott Pilgrim #Scott Pilgrim Takes Off #Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together #Scott Pilgrim vs. the Universe #Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour

[fallingdownhell]

How do you think the Sumeru boys would react to their s/o getting shrunk?

An interesting scenario... 👀 Characters Included: Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kaveh (+Wanderer) Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; idk if this classifies as crack??; bit of comedy; bits of fluff Word count: 910 words Have fun<3

Tighnari

I personally see this going one of two ways

first, when realizing what has happened, he'd drop everything, all his work and responsibilities, and try to figure out how this happened and how to turn you back to normal again

or, he would want to do that, but he just can't because something really important is happening today... then, as shitty as this sounds, he'd just take you along with him, like in a backpack or pocket or something. Because he does not trust that nothing won't happen to you while he's out and about

whichever it is, he'd be very gentle with your tiny form and take very good care of you

when first noticing your current predicament, Tighnari would be shocked, maybe laugh a little bit, but he'd soon focus on helping you figure things out

he's not too keen on you staying this way for a longer period of time, or even forever, so he'd work hard on finding a solution

overall okay reaction, very helpful and polite about it, though he does put out an occaisonal comment here and there. But it's all in good fun, so don't worry

Cyno

oh boy

you best prepare to be the butt of every of his jokes for the foreseeable future from now on

even if you manage to turn you back to normal, he will not let you forget about this incident, ever

would probably laugh at you, questioning you how you even managed that in the first place

but all jokes aside, he IS worried about you, so he does the only thing he can think about

he grabs you very carefully and carries you to Tighnari, hoping that his friend and Forest Ranger might know or can help to come up with a solution to the problem

he'll stay there with you until you're back to normal, that means that his work will be put on hold, no matter what anyone has to say about it

will turn restless and worried if there's no easy or quick solution available, but will do his best to support you, even though he will still make jokes about you

Alhaitham

shock and surprise is his first initial reaction

like, frozen on his spot, kinda shocked

does not know how to react appropriately or what to say, at all. One of the few times in his life where he's actually speechless

once he's recovered from the shock, he's asking you a whole lot of question. If you remember how this happened, how you feel, if you noticed anything unusual, if you maybe know how to revert back, etc

just, literally any question that comes to his mind, really

he views this entire situation very neutral, like some sort of experiment that he wants to figure out

and since you're the only one affected and involved, it's only obvious that he asks you all these questions

plus, by answering them, he might be able to figure out what's going on and how to revert you back to normal

if he can't come up with a solution on his own, he'd go into the House of Daena, searching for every book available that is loosely connected to the issue at hand

should that still not deliver results, he'll help you consult doctors and other specialists in order to help you get better again

Kaveh

full on panic mode activated

he sees what has happened to you, and freaks out over it

almost impossible to calm him down again. And since your voice is a lot quieter in your tiny form, you have to almost shout out your lungs in order to get his attention again

out of the two of you, you're definitely the calmer and more levelheaded one in this situation

he's helping you with whatever you need. When you ask him to take you to the doctors, he does so, no questions asked

though you have to constantly remind him to not squeeze you so hard in his hands

cut him some slack, will you? He's not used to something like this, he has to constantly remind himself to treat you carefully and gently

will freak out again if no one can figure out what is wrong with you or how to treat you

he may not have much money, but you best believe he's putting every single Mora he has into trying to figure this out and get you back to your normal self

Wanderer

shocked at first, but will soon start to tease you about it relentlessly

he'll lovingly call you names like "shorty", "shortcake", and other stuff, now that you're so much tinier than him

he's having his fun teasing you for some time, but in the end, he does worry about you and wants you back to your usual self

since he doesn't trust you to be by yourself while like this, he carefully picks you up when he goes to pay Nahida a visit, thinking that she might know something about what has happened to you

together, the three of you would put your heads together, trying to figure something out

would feel annoyed if you're still in this state by the end of the day, but tries not to show it. It's not your fault after all, and you can't really do anything about it, so he doesn't want to let it out on you

but you best believe that it's his top priority from now on to get to the bottom of this. And should he find out that someone else is responsible for this, then they best prepare , because he won't go easy on them should he ever come across them...

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader headcanons #genshin impact x reader headcanons #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari headcanons #tighnari x reader headcanons #cyno x reader #cyno x you #cyno headcanons #cyno x reader headcanons #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x reader headcanons #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh headcanons #kaveh x reader headcanons #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #wanderer x reader headcanons