#but i can also see how they would be really‚ Really annoying to an actually involved fan

[bones4thecats]

Can i request Yandere platonic saja boys with young teen male idol

Like reader is a singer whos probably 13-17, who looks young for their age and is blind in one eye with a scar over it. Like reader been a idol for years and is probably friends with Huntrix, so the saja boys decided to try and befriend reader for information but almost immediately decided this is their new son/baby brother. While they follow him around even trying to get reader to quit his solo act and join them, reader just wants nothing to do with them, especially because the saja boys baby him.

Just imagine the internet going insane with theory’s about reader being related to the saja boys and the saja boys hinting at it while reader trys to clear the rumors. The boys probably wanting their king to make reader a demon

↳ Songbird of HUNTR/X the Saja Boys.

A K-Pop Demon Hunters × Young-Teen, Male Idol! Reader.

Requester: @vampirnico.

Characters Included: Jinu, Abs, Romance, Baby, and Mystery Saja.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Mentions of stalking, hints of murder (not explicitly said though), delusion, hinted obsessions, and cyber-stalking.

A/N: The Reader is inspired by Stray Kid's Hwang Hyunjin. Specifically, his appearance in this picture: link. Also, some things in your request weren't explicitly put it, but I believe I got them all. Sorry if I missed anything. Hope you like it!

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🎤 JINU. He views hard work as an admirable quality in someone, especially in the people he holds dear. So, when he went up to the surface to scope out how he and the rest of the boys could invade the Idol Industry, he had appeared at one of your concerts. He saw how devoted and hardworking you were, and he began to watch over you like a hawk. Did he take the form of his bird to stalk you? Yes. Who knows? He does love babying you once befriended, seeing it as a second chance to be a better older brother. Hates how close you are the Hunters, wants them out of the picture and you to become a demon to be by his side forever. He's the best at talking to you, but still fails at convincing you to quite your solo performances and join the Saja Boys.

💪 ABBY. This guy is known far and wide for his physique, and when he saw how devoted you were to your own in order to please the fans, he felt a pride he never thought he'd feel. He was the slowest to get close to you, mainly due to his issue of his shirts always showing his abs and distracting you from your work; which annoyed you to no end. He stalks you the least, always making sure you know he's there and watching. Abby hints the most that you're related, and gets slightly upset when you deny the claims and describe him as "just a friend, no blood relation whatsoever." He fails at convincing you to join the Saja Boys the most, never really good at talking to you without messing up his words. 💖 ROMANCE. He loves how devoted you are to your fans, seeing it as destiny that you were meant to be brothers. He does not take kindly to the others claiming to be your brother as well, so whenever asked by interviewers or fans, he says they're "just like brother-figures while he was more of a blood-brother." This leads to rumors which you turn down. It's because of Romance's words that HUNTR/X actually begins to block contact from them more, trying to keep you safe. Romance doesn't view watching you from the shadows as stalking, he sees it as protecting his family. And if you catch him watching, he plays it off as if he's ran into you. But, you don't think two people can run into each other backstage like you would in the grocery store. ☄️ MYSTERY. Mystery is the one who is always clinging to you, barking and growling lowly at anyone surrounding you that he got even the smallest amount of bad vibes from. Especially HUNTR/X. During the meet-and-greet for example, when a fan brought a photograph of you and the girls for each of them to sign, he gritted his teeth and balled his hands in fists in anger. Doesn't verbally claim to be your brother, but doesn't deny the claims in the slightest. Fans only suspect you're related because of your shared quality of hiding your eyes; you doing it because of your scar and him doing it for... unknown reasons. Does want you to become a demon, but wouldn't force you. He likes your humanity quite a bit, surprisingly. Stalks you the most, and is the best at doing it because he knows how to be silent and blend in with his surroundings, despite his bright-colored hair. 🎼 BABY. Hates the Hunters as much as the others, but hates the fact that you're extremely close to them more. If any interviewer asks if you're dating one of the HUNTR/X girls, he shrugs and passes it off, saying you're just friends and "wouldn't abandon your brother is such a way." When asked to clarify if you're actually biological brothers or just friend-brothers, he shrugs and tells them to "make an estimated guess". Rumors spread, you clean up the mess, and you begin to have animosity between the two of you. Baby also stalks you the second-most, not physically though. He tends to stalk your socials more, ghosting in a fake account and only reacting to certain things; hiding himself well between the thousands of interactions of fans. He doesn't try convincing you to join the Saja Boys a lot, the topic only comes out when you question your life as a solo-artist. But, no matter how down you are, you always turn his offers to join his group down.

"Hey!" Zoey calls from the door of the elevator. In her hands is a tiny, dog-edible cake. Your long-haired chihuahua barking happily as his tail wagged, tiny pieces of his fur moving like a wave of seawater on the shores.

"Hey, Zoey! How have you been?" You asked when inside.

"Perfect! Actually, I've been working on the collab between HUNTR/X and 'The Prince'!" She exclaimed, holding up one of her journals after putting the dog-cake down on the counter.

"Sounds nice. Can't wait to actually start performing. The fans are gonna love this, no doubt."

Hearing two voices call your name, you looked behind you. Walking in from the hall was Rumi and Mira, who were in their comfort clothes, much like Zoey. You smiled and embraced the two, only stopping when you heard Zoey turn on the TV.

"BREAKING NEWS: IS SOUTH KOREA'S YOUNGEST MALE IDOL RELATED TO THE HIT NEW BOY BAND THE SAJA BOYS' MEMBERS? MIN-SEO IS ON THE CASE." You heard the host say.

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you sat down on the couch beside the black-haired idol. She was confused; the Saja Boys were demons, how would you be related to them?

Rumi and Mira on the other hand were upset. This was no doubt not the first time you've heard this, based on your reaction.

The purple and pink haired girls leaned on the couch from behind and watched as an interviewer named Min-Seo asked the demonic boy band questions.

"So, there is a rumor going around the fans that one of you boys, or all of you according to some, is related to hit solo artist 'The Prince'. Is this correct or just another rumor?"

The boys each chuckled and glanced at each other, their eyes each flashing golden yellow before they spoke back to the woman.

"Depends." Jinu began. "What do they mean by 'related'. Musically or biologically? Because, answering such a question is quite frankly difficult without..." He fake pondered. "Details."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you felt your dog curl up on the couch in between Zoey and you. His soft fur just barely touching your balled-up fist.

"I believe what they mean by is blood related." Min-Seo clarified, obviously oblivious to their taunting.

"Might have to take a DNA test on that. But, you never know, I guess." Romance said, his lips rested upwards in a delicately-crafted smile. "After all... there are always possibilities to every rumor."

Grabbing your phone from your pocket, you pressed the app directly to your manager. Texting him furiously to let out a statement as soon as possible that the rumors were false along with the results from the DNA test you had taken literally a couple days prior when they got back.

He agreed and told you it was on the top of his to-do list, and wished you luck in this scenario. Thanking him and hearing the TV turn off along with feeling three pairs of arms wrap around you from behind, you smiled.

"Don't worry," Rumi said. "I'm sure this'll all pass over soon."

"Yeah." Zoey agreed. "Rumors rise and fall. Kind of like a balloon!"

Mira chuckled. "Besides, they've asked us quite a bit if we were related. That's passed, this will too."

"Thanks girls." You said, hugging them back as best as you could before they pulled away and took deep breaths.

"You want some Ramyeon? It's your favorite flavor~" Rumi said, pointing towards the kitchen. Now, you could smell the noodles and broth. And it was true; it was your favorite flavor.

Nodding as you stood up and whistled for your pup to follow you, you agreed.

You loved these girls like your older sisters; thank goodness you were there with them and not alongside those teasing and taunting Saja Boys.

Unbeknownst to you, they were always there. Watching. Waiting. And planning for your rise into demon-hood, whether you wanted it or not.

🌊 Copyright © 2025 by Bones4thecats on Tumblr. All Rights Reserved. 🌊

[kiplex]

Your boyfriend was so distracting. If you look up distracting in the dictionary, you're 99% sure there would be a picture of Caleb. You were trying to get some work done in his living room, typing away at your computer when he sauntered in wearing gym clothes. He has been really good at leaving you alone for most of the day, to give you your space to work but you could tell he was up to something the second he entered the room.

“I'm gonna drink some pre-work and then head to the gym." He says casually leaning against the door frame. You look at him. Man… Caleb Xia truly was God's favorite when it came to looks. You hate that he just looks so effortlessly beautiful. Your eyes scan his body, his hair is perfectly messy, his cologne wafts your way, his biceps on display, completely unbitten- it was almost too much to bare.

Your head snaps back to your laptop. You're almost done, you have to stay focused. Work now, bite your boyfriend's biceps later. " Yeah, whatever you want to do. ”He scoffs at your audacity. “Wow Pips, if I died, your last words to me would have been ‘yeah whatever’!” He shakes his head. "My girlfriend hates me.” He hangs his head in jest, but you can see that playful smirk hiding behind his facade. He wants to play games, fine you'll bite. "Caleb, that's not what I even said!? When have I ever said I hate you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. " Literally just now Pips, what do you mean?” You roll your eyes at him. “You are so dramatic." Caleb clutches his chest. " Wow just tell me to kill myself while your at it!” He wails, no longer even bothering to hide the grin on his face.

You shut your laptop and stand up in one fluid motion, crossing the room in big strides. "You're sooo annoying. Do you ever stop?” You huff, shoving him playfully, before tossing your laptop on to the couch. Caleb's eyes sparkle, reveling in the attention. "Ermm actually, this is the first time I've talked to you all day… soooooo…” "Yeah and in the span of a few minutes you've already managed to annoy me, that might be a personal record.” You must stay strong, you can feel your control slipping as your eyes rake over your boyfriend, who was grinning down at you like he'd won the lottery.

“Mmm not sure about that. I can get more annoying if you want." He wiggles an eyebrow at you and oddly enough that breaks your work minded demeanor. A hand flies to his cheek, you gently pinch the skin there. “One day!! That's all I asked for!!! I love you, but God living under the same roof as you is difficult. You have no idea how lethal you look right now, it's not fair; it's just distracting." You groan at him, your free hand softly poking him in the ribs. He laughs, as you continue to poke and prod at him, it's cuteness aggression at its finest.

He leans down, being a whole 2 heads taller than you, he towers over you. “Yeahhh and?" He drawls. You yank his head down farther, your lips ghosting over his. “I'm gonna do something about it." Your lips press against his, immediately you feel his smirk against your lips. Caleb 1, you 0.

Satisfied, you feel his entire body fold into yours as you kiss him with a little bit more urgency. He takes the opportunity to work his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. “Am I still annoying you?” He asks, his hands toying with the hem of your baggy oversized shirt. "Because I can think of a lot more interesting ways to annoy you... Can keep you real distracted for the rest of the night…" He chuckles, his breath dancing across your neck.

Caleb may be a distraction, but maybe he can be welcomed one, just this time…

You can find my master list here!

My requests are also open!!

[zepskies]

Hahaaa you already know where we're going! Angst City, baby! 😆❤️‍🩹

Omg, sorry, but I have to share this geeky tidbit with you. 😂 I wanted to use the last two colors in the Downgrade palette as a "continuation" of the story in this one, and they just so happened to perfectly match up with the Midnights album colors! The blue shades also linked up with the blue color scheme & dividers I created for the Mark masterlist. So it all really came together in the aesthetics. 😂💜💙

And of course I had so much angsty fun trying to sprinkle bits of the song into this story. Literally it couldn't have matched Mark better 🥲

And like I told you in dms, I absolutely love that I infected you with the “drabble sickness” with this prompt. So fitting to ignore a word count when writing a fic for me, honestly 😂🩵

lmfaoo you really did!! And you know me, my hand "slips" for anything, even my own rules, apparently. 😂 I considered breaking this up into 2 parts, but I knew what you would've said! 😉

Blake seems like a Ken lol (nice touch 👌)

omfg the way I forgot about the "Kens" line in the song! 😂🐴

I mean. *ahem* yeah. Totally, intentional. 😎 (😂💓)

Oh boy, dude’s so much out of her league it’s almost painful 🤣 (And I feel her pain – LA seems like the worst place to meet “normal” people in a club lol)

He really has no idea what he's trying to mess with loll. Oh God, I can only imagine what trying to meet someone organically would be like in LA lmaoo

God, I love her sass so much! She clearly stopped giving a fuck (and who can blame her, honestly lmao)

YUPP. And this is why Mark loves her! lmfaoo (she's droppin bars like Eminem for real 🤣)

Love how this bit parallels the song as well as everybody grows tired of hanging out with the “sad friend.” It’s that whole friends being there for you in the beginning of a break up, but after some time, everyone starts expecting you to be over it and move on, and they get annoyed with you if you haven’t 🥲

That was such a cold but true part of the song too. 😭 In my head, reader isn't used to not being in control of herself either, so this is doubly hard for her. She definitely needs better friends at this point though loll. Sarah's the only somewhat real one in this group 😅

I’m sorry, but pictures??? She actually took fucking pictures and showed them to her sister?!?! God, that bitch is evil 😳 This is a new level of fucked up and sick… I truly wonder what happened that night. We left off the last part with Rachel kind of aiming to take advantage of Mark’s state of mind. I feel his need to explain the situation so deeply and I hope he gets a chance 💔

Oooh, trust, we'll get there. And yes, Rachel is every bit the selfish vindictive bitch you think she is 😭

Love the little shoutouts to the lyrics here (“love is a lie” & “Freedom felt like summer then on the coast. Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings”) – nicely done, friend 👏

Aw thank you so much! The "summer" part in Downgrade I felt was a perfect link to this moment 💙

God, honestly, such a bad moment to witness and catch him. Like she’s been suffering for months after thinking he cheated on her with her sister before the wedding, and he’s happy and handsome like nothing happened and this whole thing didn’t affect him at all, while she’s absolutely miserable. Seriously, poor, poor reader 😭💔

The worst, literally. I feel like I should cover some of Mark's side of things in the next part of this because we all can see how well he does at hiding the deep shit. He paves it over with humor and "gotta get the job done," whereas reader obviously isn't holding it together as well. 💔💔

Nice how you wove in the new haircut too! Great little Easter egg hehe 😏

Hehe thank you!! Tbh I wish they wouldn't have cut his hair after he left Palmdale, but I get why they did. Can't have him with "pullable hair" 😝

Maybe I just miss Russell lol

Bonus points for the Casablanca reference. You know me well, friend 💜

Aw I thought you'd appreciate that! 😘 I love Casablanca too! Such bittersweet goodness

Ouch! As much as I ship Oliveras and Meachum on the show, this one hurt lol

Honestly it hurt me too. 😅 As much as I love them bonding in canon, having to write it from reader's pov here was hardddd 💙

Well, I should hope so! God, is it weird I want him to be absolutely miserable? I mean, yes, technically, he already has cancer and that should be punishment enough, but I want him drunk and puking in the street too lmao

Girl I don't blame you for that one bit loll. At this point we still think Mark did her hella dirty, so you kinda wish she would've taken that golf club to his car like Dean wrecked Baby in S2. 🤣

(God, look at that baby face Dean 🥰)

Loved how you’re bringing us home here with the end of the song and make all these little references again and her memories of him. So perfect, seriously!!! 😍

That part of the song was so gutting when I imagined it. Such a level of loss and desperation, then getting smacked with reality. I had to try and make that come across here 💔

Worst question he could’ve asked, honestly. No one wants to be the miserable one after a break up. You always want to be the one who’s doing well. She doesn’t even get that. Poor girl 😅 While I (playfully) hated how smug and judgmental Mark was during that moment in the morning, I loved the whole cigarette bit. I knew it’d backfire as soon as she lit it 🤣 (and it showed that they’re still bantering like the couple they used to be 🥹)

Ughhh right? You kinda wanna throttle him, not in the fun way lol. Reader def has that self-awareness that she's the "gremlin" while he's looking all coiffed and put together and smelling good. 🥲

Hahaaa the cigarette bit was one of my favorite parts tbh, for that exact reason. 🤣 You can also see that he still loves her and doesn't like to see her like this, knowing full well it's his fault.

💯 I believe that’s what happened! And seriously, screw that fucking sister!! What an absolute mountain of dog shit… Seriously, how messed up do you have to be to do this to your own sister and hate her that much?? Dude, my throat closed so tightly during that entire flashback. I felt absolute disgust with every new paragraph that showcased her behavior and the reasons for it (kudos to your excellent writing here for making me feel this way lol). But what a trash bag of a human being 🤬 This ain’t “Rachel Getting Married,” you manipulative psycho bitch!!!! I honestly hope she never talks a single word with her sister again. Their father would probably be so sad and disappointed, too 😔

Sister Rachel is literally the wooooorst! Selfish, immature, entitled, resentful and insanely jealous, sprinkled with a bit of psycho for good measure 😅 Their parents clearly didn't try hard enough with this one. I want to kind of get into that more in a future part, where reader and Rachel get to have their confrontation 🫢

I will absolutely fucking murder her!!! God, please give me a big blowout with Rachel in Part 3! I need to see that girl get punished for what she did. Like that whole thing isn’t just psychotic and completely immoral, but borders on illegal, honestly. Again, gender reversed roles and Mark would probably find himself in a courtroom after something like this 🙈

Yesssss I was literally brainstorming the future blowout last night. 🤣🤣 Rach needs to eat dog shit for sure. 😝

OH yeah, that's an excellent point that if the situation was reversed, Mark could've had the cuffs slapped on him. She not only tried to take advantage of him while he was drunk, but technically forced a kiss and a lot of unwanted touching on him too 😡

(She really does need to be committed lmfao)

I’m so glad the truth is out, though, and reader even believed him. I do hope they find their way back ❤️‍🩹 And I’m honestly curious how you approach the whole cancer storyline in the next part. I seriously wonder how or if they resolve it on the show when they go for more seasons, or if that will stay a part of our job as fanfic writers lol. But I’m not opposed to finding some miracle cure and keeping him around longer lmao 😅🩵

He finally got through to her! 🥹💓

This is basically going to be a series of connected one-shots (called 'Til When Do Us Part) because I have ideas to drop the reader into bits of future episodes. With her being Valwell's assistant, I thought it could be fun conflict while Mark tries to keep her from what he's doing and dealing with on the taskforce. And now, she's the only one who knows his secret. 😬

I was a big fan of Chicago Fire, so especially if they get renewed for S2, I have a feeling Derek Haas is going to finesse something for Mark at the last minute (like maybe the doctor got it wrong, or Mark's going to try surgery and see what happens). But even if not, we can certainly fanfic the shit out of that ourselves 🤣🤣

The last line did things to me 😭 Amazing fucking job, friend!!! Again, you combined the lyrics and the essence of the song so well with this story! Absolutely loved what you did with it!! Thank you so much for writing this for me and indulging not only my new Mark obsession but also my Swiftie love 💜💙💜💙💜💙

I wanted to get to that ending so badly!! loll I had it in my head from the beginning, just needed to figure out how they got there. 🤪

You're so welcome, friend. Honestly, thank you so much!! 🥹 I haven't felt this good about a story in a long time tbh, and you gave me the perfect inspo. 💜💙💜💙💜💙 Feel free to send me another request if you want!

CATASTROPHIC BLUES

Pairing: Mark Meachum x F. Reader

Summary: Nine months isn’t as long as it sounds. When you run into your ex-fiancé at a bar, he finds out what you've become. You find out the truth.

AN: Okay, so this was only supposed to be a 1K drabble sequel to DOWNGRADE for my lovely friend, @waynes-multiverse, but of course it snowballed on me lol. (And there’s a little more to come!) This is set during early season 1, let’s say between 1x02 and 1x03.

Song Inspo: “Hits Different” by Taylor Swift (YT)

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, drunkenness, skeevy men, Mark doing his best with an angry, hungover reader (bit of grumpy x sunshine), talk of cheating, what really happened, and other truths revealed…

Nine months. It should’ve meant something.

You should be able to go out with your friends to the club. You should be able to feel confident in one of your favorite dresses and the tallest pair of heels you could almost walk in.

You should be able to let loose on the dance floor, letting the closest attractive guy grind on your ass.

He later offered to get you a drink, his hot breath in your ear. An uncomfortable chill ran down your spine. But you know what? Fuck it.

You went back with him to the bar, taking the chance to rest your achy feet. He tried to make small talk with you, despite you being stiff and awkward now that you couldn’t distract yourself with the vibes of the music running through your body. Now the thump thump thump of the bass was too much, too distracting for a normal conversation.

Blake was an oxymoron—he dressed like a wealthy hipster and talked like a frat bro. He had the skinny jeans and a silky patterned shirt, a thin gold chain around his neck, an obnoxious gold pinky ring, and a trendy cropped haircut. You regretted letting him buy you a drink, but then again, you never wasted good vodka.

You also started to get suspicious when one of your friends “casually” came up on his other side.

“Ask her about her job,” Sarah whispered. You just barely caught it.

“Oh, yeah. So, uh, what do you do?” Blake asked you. You were pretty sure he was more interested in your cleavage than your job.

“I’m an assistant to the Head District Attorney of California,” you said blandly.

The guy blinked. “…Oh. Cool.”

“And what do you do, Blake?”

“Well, my dad owns an advertisement company, so I do some stuff for him every now and then. But mostly I’m a competitive gamer. Like, uh, League of Legends, Counter Strike, Mortal Kombat. What about you? You a gamer?”

Blinking slow, then sighing, you leaned over and locked eyes with Sarah, one of your best friends and a well-known esthetician in L.A.

“Where’d you find the trust fund baby?” you asked. “He one of your clients? Let me guess. He likes his asshole bleached the same shade as his hair.”

Sarah bit her lip in embarrassment. Blake coughed and spluttered into his scotch. You didn’t stick around for the predictable denial and slid off the bar stool. You gave him $15 for your drink, downed the rest of it in one long gulp, and savored the rush of it tingling through your head on your way out of the club.

“Wait!” Sarah called after you. Your other two friends just rolled their eyes and stayed behind to keep drinking and dancing. They were used to your antics by now, just like you were used to theirs. They'd been trying to set you up on dates for a couple of months now. This one was the sneakiest by far.

Sarah, for her part, never let you walk out alone.

“Next time you try to set me up with someone, can you please just tell me,” you said tiredly, “instead of pretending you want to hang out with me?”

Sarah deflated. “Look, we’re just trying to help.”

“I know,” you said, holding yourself against the chill in the air. “I know, okay? I know you guys want me to move on, because I’m a fucking bummer. I know I’m…I’m not handling all this as well as I should be. And I know they still talk to Rachel.”

Tears stung in your eyes, but you sucked in a subtle breath. Sarah’s blue eyes were sad and glassy with guilt, even if it was just by association.

“Go back inside,” you said eventually. “I’ll just take an Uber home.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you ended up at a bar down the street. You barely ever went clubbing anymore, but you hadn’t stepped foot into a real bar in nine months.

“Come on, sweetheart. You really want to do this here?”

“You’re one to fucking talk! But you know what? Far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing left to say. I just…I don’t know how you could do this to me.”

“Please,” he said. The green of his eyes were desperate. It was the first time you ever heard him beg. “Just let me explain.”

You wouldn’t let him touch you, let alone try to hold you. The thought alone made you sick.

“I saw you, Mark. I saw the goddamn pictures. And my sister told me all about how your last night of ‘freedom’ went. But you know what? You’re fucking free.”

You put the ring in the palm of his hand. He stared down at it, jaw clenched. Meanwhile, hot tears streamed down your face.

You walked away first—out of the seaside bar in beautiful Venice, California, with every piece of your heart bleeding out into the street.

Another vodka cranberry at the end of the bar turned into shots you couldn’t name or count. You rebuffed men who tried to talk to you. You ignored the voice in your head that sounded a lot like your dad.

Sweet girl, what the hell’re you doin’?

You stopped trying to answer that question a long time ago. Just like your friends had stopped trying to get you out of the house after work. No more wine tastings or Sunday brunches. No more weekends at the beach. The coarse grains of sun-bleached sand would only remind you of Santa Cruz—a sweltering summer, a perfect day, now fractured and wrong in your mind’s eye.

A fucking lie.

Another empty glass hitting the bar counter drowned out the salty crash of ocean waves, but you finally had to stop when your stomach churned with alcoholic slosh. Your brain reeled when you tried to blink. Your eyes felt dry, irritated, and glassy at the same time.

You got up from your seat and used the wall like an anchor on your way to the bathroom. You checked yourself in the mirror there. Your black dress, your hair, and your makeup were still intact, so you supposed you still looked good, if absent in the eyes. Again, you blinked too hard. Fuck.

On your way back out, new noise was filling the bar. A whole group of four or five people came in and grabbed seats at the bar, laughing, ordering drinks, giving each other shit. They sounded like cops. You knew, because you’d grown up around them your entire life.

“All right, Oliveras. What’re you drinking?”

You stopped short at the voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey. In fact, you needed the back of an empty chair to hold you steady.

“What, you're buying?” she shot back.

Amber. You recognized her profile and the litheness of her frame. You two were old friends, since you roomed together back in college. You hadn’t heard from her in months though. She had called to give her condolences when your almost-marriage fell apart.

And now, your ex-fiancé had an arm draped casually behind her chair. His smile was effortless, charming, the crows’ feet around his eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Well, within reason,” he replied, inclining his head. “I think I’m in the mood for some good fuckin’ whiskey—”

You stumbled in your stupid heels. You nearly took a whole table with you, but two chairs broke your fall. Almost all the cops in the group looked your way, their heads swiveling with a trained response to sudden sounds. Your name fell from Amber’s lips, a small, shocked breath.

Mark’s mouth fell open, his eyes widening when you looked up at him on reflex. You were forced to take him in, his green eyes, the new haircut, the well-trimmed beard, the jeans and dark blue jacket. He had no fucking business looking that good.

But you were like two shocked deers not expecting to meet in a forest—neither one willing to move or speak, or even blink…

Until you stumbled again. Your weight on the unstable chair began to give way.

“Shit.”

He and Amber both jolted to help you. Mark’s hand reached for you first, but you firmly ignored it and somehow straightened onto your shaky feet. You smoothed down the dress and fixed the little straps the best you could, even though one was hanging down your shoulder.

Your arm got tangled in the thin chain of your purse, but you slung that over your other shoulder with all the grace of a toddler. Then you affected a “polite” smile that just came off looking like a grimace.

“Uh, hey. Of all the gin joints in the world and stuff, right?” You made sure to enunciate, hoping your hand wave was casual and not insane. “I’ve gotta go.”

You pointed toward the door before you made it your mission to actually get there. Your heart pounded loud in your ears. The rush of cool and quieter air was a balm to your frayed mind, but it wasn’t enough.

The way he looked at her…

The turning of your stomach became a violent roil. You closed your eyes against the movie reel torturing you in your mind. You imagined how their night would go, drinking, laughing, touching, stumbling back into his house at 2:00 a.m. Maybe he’d end up actually loving her, someone more like him. More than he claimed to have loved you.

The liquid contents of your stomach rebelled, and you threw up right on the edge of the street. You clung to a utility pole as you coughed and cried involuntary tears. You heaved and gasped for breath when you couldn’t stop.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?”

Alarm trilled in the back of your mind. You had enough awareness to look behind you. Finally, you noticed the guy. He’d approached you in the bar earlier, but you’d turned down his advances. You couldn’t remember what you said to him. He clearly remembered you, though. 

You waved him off, not even able to speak as you tried to stay upright against the utility pole.

He didn’t take the hint. He drew closer, wrapping the pretense of a helping hand around your arm. He fingered the edge of your leather jacket.

“You need a ride? I’ll get you an Uber or something,” he said, with the facsimile of concern. “Where do you live?”

“Hey,�� a voice cut in, deep and with authority.

You tilted your head, and Mark’s stern face came into view along with the rest of him. Him and those damn bowed legs.

“Take a walk, pal. I’ve got her,” Mark said. He flashed his LAPD badge for good measure.

That made it even easier to knock away the foreign hands off your body and angle himself in between. His arm came around your shoulders, supportive and safe.

Half of you was grateful, the other half resentful, but all you could do was glare at him. He shot you a quirking smile.

The other man backed off, trying to hide his annoyance. He continued down the street with his hands in his pockets. Mark itched to do more than just scare him off. A familiar protective anger had burned in his blood, raising his hackles, but he had to focus on you.

He led you back to the front of the bar. He went slow enough for you in those red stilettos (ridiculous, he thought, no matter how sexy they were).

“Late night, huh?” he said.

“What d'you think you’re doing?” you said. Your tone would be more snippy, if you had any energy left. Your inner world was reeling, unfocused and barely conscious. You had no choice but to lean on him as you gripped his jacket, the dark blue denim rough between your fingers.

“Well, I’m thinking I could call one of your friends, have ‘em take you home. You came out alone?” he asked. He was trying to be civil, retaining his sense of humor, but there was no masking the concern in his eyes. Not completely.

“No,” you admitted, “but ‘m alone now. Obviously.” You snorted.

Mark’s lips twitched upward. He heaved a small sigh. “All right. Well, who do you want me to call? Sarah? Yesenia? Lauren?” 

After a moment, you shook your head, even though that just made it swim. Fuck.

“I can’t…don’t want them to see me like this,” you said. The confession provoked a sniffle, a tremble of your lips. This time, you couldn’t stop the sting of tears from flooding over. You covered your face, as if that could stop your embarrassment, your overwhelming emotions from clogging in your throat in a painful lump.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Mark said. His tone pitched deep and gentle. It was an easy reflex for him to give into as he soothed a hand over your hair to try and calm you down.

You didn’t know it, but there was a gaping ache in his chest that had never really faded away. Seeing you again, let alone like this, made it sharp and splintering.

He led you to his car, and he took you home.

For a moment, you saw it so clearly.

Tracing his brows, the line of his nose, and the cut of his chin while he slept. What his hair felt like between your fingers, loose and soft, or gripped tight with need.

The sound of his voice reaching deep into your bones. The way his arms allowed you to reclaim safety whenever he came back to you…

Worrying for your dad on his twenty-five-year beat in Homicide had transitioned into worrying for Mark. He was always quick to reassure you though, to downplay with his ridiculous sense of humor and good sex. The best, actually.

But it was the in between moments you missed the most.

The distant sound of a lock turning in the door had you waking, slowly, a silent struggle in your bed. Your eyes cracked open.

Were you okay now? Was that him? Was he home? Had the past year just been a cruel invention of your mind to torture you?

…No. Your throat momentarily closed up as you realized. This really was just your shitty reality.

You groaned as you picked your head off the pillow, pushing your body up until you were sitting on the edge of your bed. Your bare legs hung off the side. You still wore your wrinkled black dress from last night, but your heels were strewn forgotten on the floor. You didn’t remember taking them off. You didn’t remember getting back to your apartment, let alone to your bed.

However, it all started coming back to you when the door shut again. Fresh coffee wafted in from the living room, along with something sweeter.

Your bedroom door creaked open, and there he was. Mark fucking Meachum.

He held a tray with two hot coffees and a greasy brown bag from your favorite bakery. Your gaze crept up to meet his, though yours was decidedly grumpy.

“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile. “It’s already almost noon, but I figured we can’t start the day without coffee.”

“Did you stay here all night?” you croaked in disbelief.

“Yeah, just, uh, took the couch out there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the living room. “Could use a couple of extra throw pillows though. Think I got another notch in my spine…”

At your persisting glare, his expression sobered.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all,” he said.

“Well, mission accomplished,” you snarked. “You can go now.”

Mark watched you try and fail to stand. You sunk back down to a seat on the edge of the bed, closing your eyes for a second while you attempted to stop your head from swimming.

He sighed and set down the coffee and pastries on your desk nearby.

“Have you been making this a habit?” he asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but last night was the first bar I’ve been to in exactly nine months and...fifteen days,” you replied. You swept your fingers over your cheeks, grimacing when you found remains of your mascara. You probably looked like a gremlin. This wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to look when you next saw your ex.

Except you’d never planned to see this man again.

“All right,” Mark said. He grabbed your purse off your desk, where he’d set it last night. He popped it open, your private goddamn property.

“Excuse me,” you protested angrily.

He retrieved a whole pack of cigarettes. “How about these?”

He tossed you the pack, and you barely caught it. Your irritation grew and grew, along with the sting of shame. The worst part was, he knew he didn’t have to say anything.

The unfiltered nicotine in your hand was the reason your father died. He’d been the Captain of Mark’s precinct for ten years—the exact number of years since your dad had quit smoking. It hadn’t mattered much in the end.

Still, you resented that raised brow of judgment on Mark’s face.

You leaned over and grabbed a lighter from your nightstand. You fished out a cigarette from the pack, and you took your time lighting it up. You were being an asshole, you realized, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You made a show of holding the cancer stick between two fingers. You looked up at Mark, right in his eyes, and tried to channel Audrey Hepburn when you brought it to your lips for a long drag.

And you immediately coughed it up. Fuck.

Smoke polluted the air above your head while Mark nodded in vindication.

“Yeah. How’d that feel, Smokey?” he asked (all too high-and-mighty, in your opinion). He crossed the distance and took the cigarette from your hand while you kept coughing. He went into the bathroom to get rid of it.

Meanwhile, you held a hand to your chest and groaned. Damn him, he was right. Your stomach roiled at just the taste of that shit in your mouth, let alone first thing in the morning.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he suggested, sweeping a hand toward your adjoining bathroom when he came back out. “A little coffee and sustenance will be waiting when you’re done.”

“Seriously, you can go. You don’t need to wait up for me,” you rasped, but the man still helped you to your feet with a supportive hand on your arm and your lower back.

“Yeah, and what if you lose your balance and crack your head on the bathroom tile? Nope, not on my watch.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“He ain’t gonna help if you take his name in vain like that,” Mark couldn’t help but tease, fully expecting your glare. That was something your mom used to say.

You groaned, annoyed and still nauseous.

“Would you just shut up?”

“Nope, pretty sure I’m physically incapable.”

You snorted. “Clearly.”

He made sure you were steady on your feet before he left you in the bathroom. You avoided his gaze when he closed the door. His heart gave a painful pulse.

What the fuck am I doing? he thought.

Brushing your teeth and taking a hot shower had its innumerable benefits—making you feel alive and close to normal again, for example. But the one thing it didn’t do was get Mark out of your apartment.

You sat together on your couch while the TV played at a low volume. You saw the remnants of Mark’s night in your favorite throw blanket tossed over one of the armrests. The pillow he'd used for his head was caved in and smelling like his cologne, a rich, woody scent of sandalwood, spice, and musk.

You tried to ignore it while you finished eating a blueberry muffin. He polished off his third donut and washed it down with some more coffee.

“So,” you said. “Amber Oliveras.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Last night. You two were out together, seemed to be having a good time. Sorry I crashed your date,” you said, trying not to seem as bitter you sounded in your head.

Mark’s brows furrowed. “We’re, uh, not together. Not like that. We’re just working a case.”

“A case?” you said dubiously. “She’s DEA. You’re Homicide. What kind of case would you be working on together?”

He hesitated, brushing some pastry crumbs from his mouth. “Sorry, I can’t get into the specifics. You know the drill.”

Yes, you knew his cases were supposed to be confidential, but that hadn’t stopped him from telling you details before, especially because you were D.A. Valwell’s Executive Assistant. You had a higher clearance than the average civilian anyway.

But you let it go. It truly wasn’t your business, after all.

It was Mark’s turn to look your way. Morbid curiosity was eating him alive. Or maybe that was just the pull of being with you again, seeing your face, hearing your voice…even if you hated him.

He did think you were torturing him a bit too. You smelled nice, like floral soap and minty freshness. You were wearing an oversized shirt from your college days that was already threadbare from how many times you ran it through the wash. It slipped off one shoulder and barely went halfway down your thighs, brushing the edge of some little shorts. He had to stop his eyes from following the path of your bare legs.

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” he asked.

You paused. You even set down your muffin and chuckled, giving him a long look.

“How does it look like I’ve been?”

A grim silence fell between you two, thick and tense.

“All right," he said. "How long’ve you been smoking?”

You shook your head, lips pursing at his audacity. “You really don’t have any right to judge me. You know that, right?”

Mark rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, an anxious, frustrated tick you knew well. “Look, what happened back then—”

You rose a hand to stop him. “Please, for the love of God. We don’t have to go through this shit again.”

You got up from the couch, intending to throw away the coffee cups and garbage if it meant gaining some space from this man.

But he followed you, stopped you with an imploring grip on your arm.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said. He met your gaze, firm, earnest. “It didn’t go down the way she said.”

Your instinct was to jerk your arm out of his grasp, but he just held you in place, gently, but insistent. 

“Are you gonna let me explain this time? If you do, then just let me get it out. And afterward I’ll screw. I’ll walk the fuck outta here, and I promise you, you’ll never have to see me again.”

You stared up at him, close to seething, but there was something in his eyes that stilled you, gripped you more than his hands. A sliver of doubt began to creep in.

Your sister apparently hated you enough to fuck your fiancé. Had she been vindictive enough to lie about it?

You had realized, all too late, that you couldn’t put anything past her. Mark could be stubborn, but he wouldn’t dig his heels in on this without a reason.

So you relented, with a small nod.

Breathing a subtle exhale of relief, Mark guided you back down to the couch. You turned off the TV and sat facing him with your arms crossed. You gave him an expectant look.

Mark steeled himself. Where to fucking start?

A beat to think, and then he knew.

He had to give you everything.

Nine Months Ago...

One late night. One fifth of whiskey at the hotel bar turned into numbers Mark stopped counting—until the Captain reminded him. Your father reminded him beyond the grave, with words Mark never forgot.

You’ve got someone waiting for you. Don’t take that for granted.

He needed to find you.

Somehow, he made it to the elevator by himself. Third floor. Room 304, 305, 306. Fuck. Was it 309?

The door opened, and his addled fucking brain thought it was you at first. She almost had your eyes, if just half the sincerity of your smile.

Rachel welcomed him in and shut the door. He stumbled at the threshold, and she stopped him from falling completely onto the floral-patterned carpet.

“Oh my God, Mark. You okay?”

No. And he knew he wasn’t ever gonna be okay.

But her hands were warm, carving sensuous paths under his leather jacket without him realizing.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” she said, guiding him further into her hotel room. With slurring words, Mark asked her to go find you. He needed to talk to you.

“Shit, think I left my phone downstairs too. Needa get it,” he muttered.

“You’re a mess. I think you need to lay down first,” she said, huffing as she supported his weight over to her bed. She helped him lay down. A subtle smile tugged at her lips as she began to open up his jacket. He resisted at first, giving her a look of confusion.

“You should get comfortable. I doubt we’re gonna be able to move you from here.” She giggled.

He guessed he could see the sense in that. He let her help him shrug the black leather jacket off. You helped him pick it out a couple of weeks ago while you were planning for this trip.

Rachel tossed his jacket to the foot of the bed, and she sat close to him on the edge of it. Her bare thigh brushed against his arm as the skirt of her dress rode up. It looked like she’d been about to take a shower after a night out with you and your friends. He instinctively moved his arm, crossing it with the other over his chest.

“You know, I never got a chance to thank you,” she said.

Mark’s brows furrowed. It was taking all of his concentration just to keep her face in focus.

“For what?”

“You were really there for me when Dad passed. You were like our rock, coming by with food, checking in on me when you visited. It really meant a lot to me,” she said. Her words said one thing, but her eyes were beginning to lead him somewhere.

“Your dad was a good man,” he said tiredly. “You guys went through a lot. You, your mom, your sister. It uh, hit her pretty hard.”

Rachel’s lips pressed together. “Yeah… She was his favorite, you know.”

Mark blinked. “What, he said that?”

“He didn’t have to,” she said, glancing away. She began to drum her fingers against his arm. He noticed it, but he was also trying to concentrate on what she was saying. “He always talked to her more, trusted her more, even when he was harping on her. She got that government job, probably thanks to him. But he was proud of her.”

“’M sure he was proud of you too,” Mark said.

“No, I don’t think so. I just don’t know why,” she said, sniffling as tears welled up in her eyes.

Mark frowned in sympathy. “Aw, hey.”

He didn’t know how to make her feel better, but he didn’t like to see her cry either. He sat up the best he could in the bed. She met him halfway, burying her face in his chest and sliding her arms around his middle for a hug. He gave her that comfort, patting her on the back.

Only, she didn’t stop there. She shimmied a bit higher and buried her face in his neck, where she pressed a little kiss. An alarm bell rang in Mark’s mind, but his body was too slow to respond. She turned her head and laid another kiss on his cheek, and then his lips.

He finally jerked back, holding her at arm’s length.

“Hey. What the hell’re you doing?” he demanded. His tone was sharp without a filter.

Rachel’s tearful eyes met his as she bit her lip. Her hand tentatively drew down his chest, warm over his shirt.

“I just…I finally had to tell you how much you mean to me,” she said. “And I think she takes you for granted.”

His brows furrowing, Mark grabbed her wrist.

“Rach, I love you. I really do, but you’re like a lil' sister to me. I love your sister. I wanna marry her.”

The thought alone struck a sharp jolt of pain through his skull, and through his chest. He did want a life with you. But is that fucking fair?

Could he really shackle you to a dying man?

Sure, he didn’t know how long he had, but that could be a cruel waiting game, one you'd just gone through with your father for three months. Mark didn’t want to put you through that all over again.

“Look, just...go tell her 'm here. Please,” he said. The fight was draining out of him. His energy was waning, his eyes blinking slow.

Rachel nodded, wiping at her tears. She left him in a huff, but she went to lock herself up in the bathroom first. The sink faucet turned on.

Mark sighed. Fine, let her clean up and pull herself together, but she’d better go get you. He doubted he could make it, even if he crawled. But if he had to, he would…

Slowly, the ticking seconds turned longer. His eyes grew heavier, until he was unable to pry them open again. He fell asleep.

He woke to a streaming sun in his eyes, and a pounding ache between them.

Shit. He groaned, covering his eyes. Maybe getting drunk wasn’t good for an already fucked head after all.

“Hmm, good morning, sleepyhead.”

Mark frowned. He looked over and found Rachel leaning on his arm. She was lying naked under the thinnest sheet. He knew, not only because of her bare shoulders, but her nipples poking through the fabric.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunted, immediately turning over to climb out of the bed. He was very fucking relieved to see he still had his jeans and underwear on, but his shirt was missing. He found it strewn on the floor.

“You actually did that yourself,” Rachel remarked. “Think you got a bit hot last night.”

There was a playful note in her voice. Mark grit his teeth. He was fucking pissed.

“You’re over the fucking line, you hear me?” he snapped.

“What, are you really gonna tell her?” she taunted. “It’s not like we did anything. I just prefer to sleep naked.”

He snorted. Sure. And what happened to the part where she was supposed to go find you and tell you where he was? No, the girl saw an opportunity, and she took it.

Mark hesitated though, because she raised a good point. Goddamn it, what was he going to tell you?

His jaw clenched, and he angrily finished getting dressed. He got up and stormed out of the hotel room, but not before Rachel got of out bed and let the sheet fall away from her slender form. She walked in confidence and feminine sway over to the bathroom, smiling in amusement when he quickly turned away before he saw anything.

The door slammed shut.

Her smile slowly fell. Tears of embarrassment stung in her eyes. Not really because he was mad at her, but because he’d rejected her too.

She knew it was wrong. Yeah, she was pretty sure it was the worst thing she’d ever done. Part of her even hated herself for it. You were her older sister, after all. You, who always looked out for her when you two were kids—better than Mom did. You, who got the most attention from Dad, and the quiet reliance of Mom.

Yeah, Rachel did love you...but she also kind of hated you too.

After she got dressed, she went back to find her phone. She cycled through the pictures she took, every angle that made it seem like your fiancé had spent the night in her arms after the hot and steamy bits.

It was a joke. A cruel prank. But maybe after this, you wouldn’t open your mouth to criticize her ever again. Maybe you’d think twice next time, because in the back of your mind, you’d remember that she could’ve had your man.

Now...

Mark finished telling you the story from his perspective. He gave you as many details as he could remember: what she said and did, and what he said and did.

Understandably, you were getting more upset by the moment. That pendulum swung between shock, and anger, and upset again. It all culminated in hot tears as you crossed your arms, holding a hand over your mouth.

“How do I know that’s true?” you asked, wiping vainly at your cheeks.

The problem was, you wanted to believe him. Of course, you also wanted to believe your sister wasn’t quite as screwed up and hateful as you thought she was, but even this was insane. You'd only ever tried to look out for her. Maybe along the way you had been a little critical, a little too judgmental. But had you really deserved this?

Could you even let yourself hope it was all a lie?

Mark met your gaze head on. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying.”

You sighed in frustration. “Mark, you’re a professional fucking liar. I’m not a human polygraph.”

“But you know me.”

“I thought I did,” you said, rubbing at your eyes with shaking hands. Eventually, you were able to look at him again. “If what you said is true, why the hell didn’t you just tell me that?”

“You wouldn’t let me! You made up your mind before I could get a word in edgewise.”

“I was angry!"

God, what an understatement. You'd been so furious and hurt, you'd seriously debated taking one of your dad's old golf clubs and knocking out every window, headlight, and tail light in Mark's precious car.

"So you're saying you didn’t even fight for me. You just let me think the worst of you all this time? For what?!” You sunk your hands into your hair and pulled hard on the strands. You shook your head. “And you know what, why did you get so drunk in the first place? Your friends told me you went back to the hotel early, by yourself. It had to be for a reason.”

Mark nodded slowly.

That was when he knew, he really did have to give you everything.

“You, uh…remember those headaches I’d been getting?” he said. “Started about a month after your dad passed.”

Your brows wrinkled with a hint of confusion, but you nodded as the memory resurfaced.

“Yeah, you were going through entire bottles of Advil. But what does that—”

“I went to the doctor.” Mark rubbed a clammy palm over his jeans. He could stare down murderers, drug lords, and terrorists with steel in his veins, but coming clean with you was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He knew it in his bones, just like he knew why he needed to do it.

“Turns out… I’m sick, baby.”

Your expression changed, almost instantly. Traces of anger and doubt fell away, but so did some of the color in your face.

Mark took the chance to get a little closer on the couch. He laid a hand over yours on your thigh, but your whole body was locked up, sitting very still.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean,” he sighed, “I’ve got a mass in my brain the size of Nevada. I don't know how much time I got exactly, but..."

Your eyes widened. Your hands clenched into the fabric of your shirt, until your nails bit into your palms. As you processed those words and began to understand the weight of them, it sunk inky claws into your mind, into every shady corner.

You shook your head in denial, lips trembling. Mark just held your gaze, a silent confirmation that he said nothing but the truth.

"I found out a few days before the trip to Venice. I was trying to figure out how to tell you, but obviously I didn’t handle that part very well," he said.

Anger, stubbornness, suspicion, pretending you didn't care what he had to say—all of that faded. It drained out of your muscles, out of your pores. You began to fall apart.

You turned your hand under his and squeezed, hard. It was a while before you could speak, but Mark was patient. He held your hand and stroked his thumb back and forth across your skin while you tried and failed to hold onto your tears. Then your soul-wracking sobs.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. He brought you closer, soothing a hand over your hair and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a coarse whisper. “God, Mark. Why the fuck would you let me think you cheated on me, with my sister?”

He gave a wry huff. “I guess I thought I was being noble. I thought I’d rather have you hate me, than try to stay with me. Watch me break down, bit by bit, for God knows how fucking long. Now I know I’m just selfish. I don’t want you to see me like that… Hell, I don’t wanna see me like that.”

You pulled back on him. Devastation filled your bleary eyes, but you caressed his cheek with a shaking hand.

“Have you gotten treatment?” you asked.

“Doc says it’s not worth it.”

The divot between your brows deepened. “What about a second opinion?”

He hesitated.

“Have you seen another oncologist?” you pressed.

“No. Guess I didn’t see the point. I saw the scans myself. I don’t know how you’d confuse a big fucking tumor for anything else.”

“Mark.” You shook your head and wordlessly guided him closer. You framed his face with both hands, while his own found purchase on the soft curve of your waist.

It was nice to feel your touch again…but at what cost? All that stubborn fire in your eyes, all that pain, it was everything he’d been trying to avoid. 

Still, you were gentle, sliding your fingers up into his hair. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

After all this time, you were still his peaceful spot. If you only knew the amount of death he’d seen in just the past couple of weeks on Blythe’s taskforce, the chaos, the stress of near-misses, being on the sweet razor edge of getting killed, saving his own body the trouble. That thrill took its toll.

Before that, those nine months undercover had been a divorce from his reality, pretending that he hadn’t left you broken along with whatever heart there was left in him.

He never imagined that he’d be here with you again. He never thought you’d forgive him, let alone touch him like you still loved him.

When he opened his eyes, you were still there. Tears clung wet to your lashes. You led him closer, where you tenderly rested your forehead against his.

He let you do it too. You were the only one he’d soften up for like this.

He smiled. “Hmmm. What now, sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, but you slowly pulled back and opened your eyes. You didn’t go far though.

You guided him into an even more familiar path to your lips. It was more bittersweet than he remembered, but worth it all the same.

He was home.

AN: So, you guys forgive me? 😘💙 I know it's not the happiest ending ever, but it felt like a good place to pause for these two. Rachel was more complex than she seemed, and so was Mark's side of the story!

I have at least one more actual drabble in mind for these two, coming soon! 😂 Please let me know what you thought of this one 💜

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Mark Meachum Masterlist

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Mark Meachum Tag List (Part 1):

It seems like a lot of people on the Dean tag list like Mark! lol So if you prefer not to be on this list, just let me know. I'll take you off no problem (you won't hurt my feelings lol 💜).

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@chevroletdean @hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@midnightmadwoman @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@rizlowwritessortof @jackles010378 @nancymcl @spnaquakindgdom @bettystonewell

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @jollyhunter @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog

@leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989 @siampie @masked-lost-girl

@spnbabe67 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @globetrotter28

@cookiechipdough @winchesterwild78 @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @iprobablyshipit91 @bleuatlas

@mrsjenniferwinchester @fromcaintodean @kiddieclaws

[swanimagines]

Can I please request some headcanons about what Morpheus crushing on you as the Goddess of the Moon would include? Please? Thank you!

A/N: I considered on naming the reader by "Luna" because that's the Roman goddess of the Moon, but I decided to write in in a way that it's the name humans made for you and you can either imagine having adopted that name (unless your name is actually Luna or you imagine reader as an OC instead of yourself) or then be called by your own name by those who know you personally, but humans call you Luna. I no longer use any name placeholders for reader (like Y/N) in my fics so it's easy to imagine it however you like!

Also, I know that someone may want to argue that Luna is Roman goddess of the moon while Morpheus is a Greek god, I've seen a bunch of other blogs/fics getting "criticism" about this kind of thing before. But seeing that the series also features (for example) Scandinavian gods and goddesses, I believe there's a web of deities from all cultures in The Sandman canon.

BEING LUNA/GODDESS OF THE MOON AND MORPHEUS HAVING A CRUSH ON YOU:

In the beginning of time, when you were crowned as the Goddess of the Moon and granted your own palace in the night sky among the stars, you didn’t know what kind of humanity you’d serve.

You knew people would worship you, build temples for Luna, pray on that name, and they all would make their way to you.

But in reality, you were the one who’d serve them, regardless of whether they believed in you.

After a few millenniums of humanity existing, you met the King of Dreams, Morpheus.

You fell in love pretty quickly.

Or well, quickly when you looked at immortal standards.

(About three thousand-ish years, you didn’t really count to be honest)

Though at first, he annoyed you.

He was arrogant and ruled with harsh hand rather than with kindness that you practised with your own servants.

And he didn’t understand why you were so annoyed by his way to rule.

He had his way, you had your way, and he thought all immortals had a wordless agreement on not caring how others take care of their kingdoms.

But once he talked with you about it, he understood why you felt uncomfortable about it.

You had had to witness him punishing his dreams and nightmares quite a few times by sending them to darkness for long periods, and the thought of it terrified you.

You didn’t believe in ruling with fear.

And after a bit of more talking, Morpheus agreed on it being unnecessary.

A while later, he invited you to The Dreaming.

And since then, you started to spend quite a lot of your time there.

And eventually

He started developing feelings for you.

They were foreign

Scary, even

But oh so addicting.

And he couldn’t help but chase his feelings again and again.

After another century or two, his servants started to feel anxious for him to just confess

But he wouldn’t budge

Lucienne, all of his other ravens across the ages, Mervyn, even Abel and Cain, they all pushed him into telling you about his longing

But he was convinced you didn’t feel the same way

(And he also denied feeling anything like that for you to anyone who asked)

But deep down, he did plan on telling you

One day

Because he saw you felt something too

But he wanted it to be romantic

And so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself

One day, he hoped to make you his queen

And until that day came

He spent time with you, the Goddess of Light of the Night, and wondered what would come.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[witherby]

Punchline and JJ: Understimulated

Commissioned by @theprinceofthieveshermes !

I was asked to make a fluffy prompt, and given the circumstances of the universe the siblings occupy, I think I did okay! It's much lighter than the rest of the fics I've written for them, that's for sure!

You're not adjusting well in the cave.

JJ would have busted you both out already but Popsy's still locked up in the nuthouse, which means none of the henchmen will take orders from his kids. Also, now that the Bat and Birds know JJ isn't dead, they're gonna be all over his ass the second he leaves with you to go back into hiding. They won't stop at anything to "rescue" their precious brother, despite the fact that he buried that identity years ago.

Not that you and JJ can't slip under the radar. He's done it for years, after all. It would just be annoying, playing Keep Away for the foreseeable future.

He needs to do something, though. You're scratching patterns and drawings into the walls with the handle of your toothbrush, which you've whittled into a point, but you're running out of space that you can reach in the cell. At night, you're sleeping poorly and your feet keep anxiously knocking together in an attempt to self-soothe. You've even started two separate fires with the bed sheets just to get dragged out of there and given a new space to wander around for a little while.

You're bored. Boredom is bad under Popsy's roof, and you don't know how to handle the under-stimulation in a safe way. The usual games you and your brother play aren't helping anymore. JJ is genuinely concerned you're gonna start hurting yourself at this rate, which is absolutely not an option.

JJ can fix this. He's just gotta start playing a little nicer with his batty babysitters. He wonders if the sudden switch-up from threatening bodily harm to compliance will raise any red flags amongst them...

--

Okay, so. Getting Dick to soften up to him is actually hilariously easy. So much so that he has to play off his sudden giggle fit as a side-effect of prolonged exposure to Popsy's laughing gas. With an averted gaze, finally allowing them to perform a full medical exam, and a carefully timed "I want Di — I mean Nightwing to do it..." JJ has the man wrapped around his finger. Emotional regulation has never been this family's strong suit, a fact he is more than happy to exploit for his own gain.

"Aaaand...all done!" Dick chirps, drawing the last vial of blood needed for testing and carefully placing a bandage in the crook of JJ's elbow. "Thanks, kid. I'll grab you a juice box, one second —"

JJ hops off the table and feigns a dizzy spell. He lets Dick reach out and steady him, brushing off his concern and urging to sit back down.

"Gotta get back to Punchline..." He mutters, only half-pretending to be stressed out. "She can't be alone...I have to keep her entertained or she'll get hurt. There's nothing to do down here, I have to go to her..."

JJ can see the gears turning in Dick's head. The worried purse of his lips tells him he's about to get everything he wants. He's just gotta push a bit more.

"I-I can grab something for you two," Dick offers. "Just...just keep it hidden under the bed, okay? B doesn't want you guys to have anything you could fashion into a weapon, but if she's really a danger to herself —"

"She will be soon," JJ insists. Time to deploy the emotional trump card. "Anything will help. There's nothing to do in that cage, Dick. I mean, I mean Nightwing! I meant to say —"

"Hey." Dick places a hand on JJ's shoulder and gives him a huge, genuine smile. His eyes are wet. Ew. "I've got it. You don't need to beg, okay? I won't let anything happen to you or your sister. Let's get you back to her while I see about finding stuff to keep you both busy."

JJ nods. Just to add icing to the manipulation cake, he leans into Dick a little as they walk back together.

That's how he ends up getting a box of Legos, nail polish, a bunch of hair accessories, paper and pencils, and two decks of cards stashed under the bed in the span of a day. Unfortunately, Dick is now taking up way more shifts and trying to cozy up to you and him, but it's a necessary headache in exchange for your happiness. The nail polish brightened your mood considerably, decorating both yours and your brother's hands and feet, but afterwards you grabbed the hair tools and haven't left the little mirror above the sink in the corner for hours. You keep brushing your hair and putting it into different styles with the bows and scrunchies Dick brought, admiring yourself with the biggest smile JJ has seen from you in two weeks.

"Do you like this one, JJ?" You ask your brother, twirling around to face your big brother. You've swept the bright green locks to one side and tied it in a low ponytail, then applied two small bows to either side of your head to keep the stray hairs neatly out of the way.

JJ watches you bounce on the balls of your feet, looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky. He didn't, but he'd figure out how to put a second one up there if you asked.

"Beautiful, P," he says, soft and genuine. "You look like a princess."

Your grin widens. You press your hands to your cheeks and spin back around to admire your reflection some more.

"Okay, I'm gonna try something else!" You chirp. "I saw a picture in a book once! It looked like...um...oh, I remember! I gotta pull this section into a twist..."

JJ sits on the bed, one leg bent and the other dangling over the edge, and idly shuffles the deck of cards between his hands as he watches you. His smile gets bigger the happier you become.

He's already thinking of ways to manipulate the rest of the bats into getting more things for you. If he swings it right, acts like he can be de-conditioned from Popsy's years of treatment and programming, they might even give you and him access to the manor upstairs. The larger space would do wonders for staving off the boredom while he waits for Popsy to break out of Arkham again.

"Oh, yeah..." He whispers. He glides the cards between his hands for a few seconds more, shuffling and shifting and flipping them around, until he turns the top card over to reveal the Joker. "This'll be way too easy."

He puts the deck on the bed and stands, approaching you at the sink and popping his knuckles.

"Need help, sis? I can show you how to make a dragon braid."

You gasp, facing your brother with wide eyes and mouth agape, and quickly hand over the hair brush.

"Show me show me show me!!"

"Course," he easily agrees, pinching your nose fondly. "Anything for you."

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

TW: includes mentions of hate crimes within the context of intrusive thoughts related to safety

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

This one will be a personal ramble, so feel free to skip: 

I really wanted to go to a specific local Pride event this year. I talked about it ever since it was announced months ago, I excitedly shared every single little piece of information on it, I splurged on a whole outfit for it, I probably annoyed all my loved ones by not shutting up about how much I look forward to it - I was so determined to go. 

Because it sounded fun and I was looking forward to celebrating my personal Pride milestone this way (I’ll finally get to legally change my name and gender marker this month!), but also for political reasons. Pride has always been important but I felt like it was especially important to go this year, with the (local and global) drift to right-wing extremism. It would’ve been a fairly small, rural event and I know how especially these types of Pride events can become targets of hate and how vital it is for them to get enough attendance and supporters. 

And then - as you can probably guess from the way I worded all this - I ended up not going. 

I don’t even have a really good reason for that. I wanted to go with my partner and he couldn’t go for work reasons - but that became clear days before the actual event. Sure, that was disappointing to both of us (it would’ve been our first time attending Pride together and I was really looking forward to that), but I planned to go without him then. It’s not like that’s unheard of, plenty of people go to such events as individuals rather than as couples or groups! So, I rearranged all my plans to make it a solo trip. I was a bit nervous about going alone because I kept seeing all these headlines about explosively increasing numbers of hate crimes this year and worried about potentially making myself an easy target by being a somewhat „visibly trans“ person attending alone but I was still determined to go! Or well, I was until the very day before - that’s when I stumbled across an advertisement online by a group of people who wanted to go there together and were looking for more people to join them. 

This sounds like it should’ve been a great development, right? They wanted to go out for breakfast first, as a nice way for everyone to get to know each other, and then attend Pride together. I briefly entertained the idea of joining them - maybe I would feel safer in a group and have to worry less about standing out as an easy target? Who knows, maybe I’d even make some friends? - but I decided against it. 

It was so last minute and I’m not a very spontaneous person, but more importantly I knew that „going out to eat“ is a huge anxiety trigger for me. It’s a challenge to even go out to eat with my partner or family - doing it with a bunch of strangers would probably feel overwhelming. Maybe it would’ve been a good way to confront that eating-in-public anxiety („do it scared“ style) but no, no, I wasn’t going to derail my special event I’ve been looking forward to for months by turning it into an exhausting anti-anxiety exercise to conquer rather than a fun event to enjoy! … And then it derailed anyway. 

I got really in my head about it. I kept painting these awful mental pictures: just kept imagining how I’d go to the breakfast and deeply regret it. I’d feel anxious and awkward the whole time, I’d be so paralyzed with fear that I wouldn’t talk to anyone, I’d  unsettle everyone with my silence until I get a panic attack and embarrass myself in front of all these strangers, everyone would think I’m insane and hate me, I’d still be the lonely kid in the corner of the playground even as a grown-ass man. My brain turned it into a whole horror movie! So, hard no on the breakfast - but then the next picture would spring up: I’d not go to the breakfast and just go to Pride alone as originally planned… and deeply regret that choice, too. I’d feel lonely and awkward the whole time, I’d just stand around nervously without even enjoying myself and hate myself for not having gone to the breakfast, everyone would think I’m weird for just standing there and laugh at me or be creeped out by me, and when I finally realize I don’t belong there with the people who actually have friends, then I’d probably run into counterprotesters and get straight-up murdered and nobody would even care. 

Would either of these pictures have become reality? Nope. People don’t ever really think about us as hard as social anxiety will convince us. Chances are higher that nobody would’ve thought that I’m crazy or weird or unsettling - because nobody would really have thought much about me at all. That sounds like a depressed statement but that’s not what I mean. It’s just that people are usually preoccupied with their own lives and thoughts. I’m not the main character in other people’s stories. When I walk past someone who is standing somewhere alone and silent, I don’t go off on some long thought journey about how this must be the most unloveable person on earth, either! It’s not rational to assume that other people do that about me. (Plus, if someone would jump right over „he’s probably shy“ or „he’s the quiet type“ and instantly goes to „he must be unlovable“ and „I don’t care if he lives or dies“, that’d really just make them a rude judgmental jerk, if not a psychopath, and it would say nothing about my worth as a person). 

I know all this - and the anxiety still won. I stayed home and now I regret that I stayed home. 

That hurts. I can analyze it all I want, I can try to understand what went wrong and learn from it, I can be compassionate with myself and tell myself that I can just try again next year, I can make a donation to the team that organized the event so I still support the local community… and I still missed the event. I still missed my chance to celebrate my milestone this way. 

There’s this quiet grief that comes with anxiety and watching it ruin opportunities like this. Watching yourself ruin opportunities like this when you rationally know better but anxiety doesn’t care about rational. 

I don’t really have a neat ending point here. Just a slice of life that might resonate with some of you. Here’s to fighting anxiety - and to finding grace for ourselves in the setbacks along the way.

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad

[ginginmaru]

gin's manager ꨄ︎ gender neutral ;; 1.6k wc ;; platonic , crackfic , strange dieting mentions , burntout-ish vibes, forest cryptid behavior

it started off as a training procedure hosted by ego. gathering thirty-five personally trained managers for all thirty-five players of blue lock. the task assigned was train the players of once they actually do have their own personal managers when becoming the next big thing of japan.

one by one, each professional was given a player. ego called you up next, standing from your seat and stepping towards the table he was at. it wasn't a public announcement. he'd speak to us about the player, give us their profile on paper, and state his expectations by the end of the procedure. it wasn't a good pay, and also a great spot on your resume for future references.

then came actually taking care of gin..

— FIRST MEETING

you werent sure what to exactly expect when you and the thirty-four other managers stepped onto the training ground, although you will admit you're both nervous and excited to meet this new player. anyone would when they're told they're training the upcoming stars of japan.

it took a while to go through his whole report, writing notes on your notepad the ideals you may set on him. what the report didn't include was what kind of personality gin is.

searching across the field for the 6'3" boy, expecting him to be attempting to score a goal, only to see him hanging upside down from the goalpost.

your feet moved on it's own when stepping towards him, though your mind began to reel back through every sentence the report stated. is this normal for him.

the sound of your feet on the grass near him alerted his acute senses, snapping his head towards you. he looked at you up and down before muttering clearly. "are you- the new forest spirit?" he questioned, limbs still tangled in the net.

your lips parted, stammering before admitting, "i'm your new manager." you held the clipboard close to your chest, suddenly feeling a mix of bad anxiety from his first impression on you.

after a while, he managed to untangle from the net and fall onto the ground with a grunt. your eyes widen, gasping softly. you were going to ask him if he was alright, but he stood and brushed the grass off as if nothing happened.

"same thing."

✧ ^. .^₎⟆

leading gin to a nearby bench, you held up your clipboard. "i'll be your new manager for a while." you explained exactly how the procedure works, sitting next to him with legs crossed. you went over goals, nutrition, sleep cycle, a whole pr strategy; yet his eyes were totally wondering over the bug crawling on the hard pavement.

clearing your throat, you asked, "any questions?"

it took him a while, but he nodded.

"can i eat the bugs if they have protein?"

✧ ^. .^₎⟆

after a few days, i requested a meeting with ego. anri let me in to his office quickly before going back to her task.

"what is it?" he spoke with that tone, it sounded annoyed but really he was just concentrated. "my apologies sir, but was there supposed to be a paper included in the report stating—exactly what i should be expecting from gagamaru as a person?"

this caught his attention, turning away from his computer. it was two weeks before the japan u-20 vs blue lock game, so he was a busy man.

"what's this about?" he turned his chair to you, his lankly legs folded up to his chest. you stammered before responding.

"he asked me if the moon affects corner kicks?"

"yes. that's normal."

"he tried to headbutt a vending machine."

"good instincts."

"he ran off during drills to 'chase wind patterns'."

"you're doing amazing."

you were left stunned. so basically, this behavior from gagamaru was the norm. there was no chasing him into becoming a different person. signing heavily, you nodded. "i understand. thank you." you turned away and left his office.

you leaned against the wall, sighing heavily as you stared down. you didnt want to say gagamaru is a bad person, though he seemed a lot to handle.

you didnt hear the padding of cleats approaching you, gagamaru leaning down to see your solemn expression.

he stood straight, standing next to you before leaning against the wall as well. "i'm not good with.. routines. but if you talk, i'll listen."

it was silent for a while, nodding your head in understanding. standing straight, you looked up at gagamaru, who still managed to be taller despite him leaning against the wall. "you feel safe."

first procedure: gain gagamaru's trust. (may require birdseeds and patience)

— THE ROUTINE VS FOREST MAN

you waited on the field, wearing normal clothing. it was gonna be the first day where gagamaru was gonna have to try out your training routine though you were starting to doubt whether he was actually gonna do it.

the agenda for today's training was simple, especially since you calculated it up to the standard met for gagamaru's ability. it was focused on agility, strength, and concentration.

gagamaru met you by the goal post. shirt inside out, bare foot, hair already wet. you hid your face of both surprise and confusion as you greeted him. "good morning gagamaru, are you ready for today?" you offered a sweet smile, holding up your clipboard.

he stayed silent, his hands placed on his hips. not in a rude demeanor, more of a 'pregnant-lady-tired-of-standing' demeanor. "so first, we're gonna do five sets of 40m cone sprints with controlled pace. then a few quick touches. make sure to stay disciplined okay? have you stretched?"

though, you were met with silence once again. gagamaru was staring at the grass, nibbling the inside of his cheek. then suddenly, he crouched, grabbing sharp grass blades from the floor before throwing it into the air. like he's reading a prophecy.

"the wind says to go east. i'll go that way first."

✧ ^. .^₎⟆

after enough persuasion, you managed to get him ready. "ready!?" you called out from afar. he gave you a thumbs up, jumping up and down in preparation. after a while, you blew the whistle.

gagamaru kicks the ball, before rolling it back over the tongue of his cleats you forced him to put on. he kept it there, and with one foot hopped over all the cones you set up to practice dribbling.

then after a while, he turned the other way and ran into the woods. you didnt even stop him, watching him run away. you sighed heavily, sitting down onto the grass. "he's gone. he's literally gone. he's in the wild now.." you mumbled to yourself, looking down and plucking the grass.

after forty-seven seconds later, he came back, covered in leaves. "i dodged seven trees and one squirrel. write that down." he wiped his shirt on his forehead, able to tell from his tone he was excited.

sighing heavily, you pulled out your pen and began to write.

✧ ^. .^₎⟆

after a while, you fully understand how difficult it is for gagamaru to stay still. he was rolling over the grass blades, mumbling incoherent lyrics. you pinched your nose bridge, staring at your clipboard.

"okay- gagamaru. look at me. the drills are made to target your weak points. you're very good you just lack—"

"..i have weak points?"

your lips parted, immediate guilt in your eyes. you stammered for the nth time before responding. "no- thats not what i meant-"

though he couldnt stop staring at you with those wide eyes, clear confusion and gloom in those blank pupils. you let out another sigh, running a frustrated and stressed hand through your hair. lowering the clipboard, you spoke. "can you- just run the cone sprint?"

he kept quiet, staring at the cones. he grabbed a cone, plopping it onto his head and ran into the woods.

✧ ^. .^₎⟆

by hour four, you gave up. you threw the clipboard like a frisbee, laying on the grass in a fetal position. it's been minutes since gagamaru disappeared. he's been missing for minutes already, finally a free man in the woods.

you heard cleats approaching again, gagamaru picking up the clipboard and placed it next to your body.

"you're fun when you're mad."

then walks off.

please do not plagiarize ;; not proof read ;; i got this idea originally from @couch-potato28 so please show them support especially from their own manager gagamaru fic <3

[arc852]

4. Broken

Summary: Joel breaks his arm and despite it being very obvious to Jimmy, Joel still tries to hide it.

Word Count: 1146

Warnings: Broken bone, fear, and anger

AO3 Link

Alright, slowly catching up! I actually ended up scrapping the original idea for this one and wrote this all within the last couple of hours. And I gotta say, I like this one way better!

I hope you guys enjoy!

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

 “Joel, your arm is clearly broken.” Jimmy said with a deep frown. He had heard the small cry of pain from the other room and had practically sprinted to find Joel sitting on the floor of the living room and clutching his arm. And Jimmy knew Joel had been on the coffee table when he had left the room, so clearly, somehow, Joel had fallen and managed to land on his arm.

 Jimmy had scooped him up right away despite Joel’s protests, making sure he was careful to not touch or nudge his hurt arm at all. He set him down on the couch and kneeled in front of it to try and get a better look at it. But Joel was stubborn and was moving his body away from Jimmy, claiming that he was fine.

 If Jimmy wasn’t so concerned, he’d be really annoyed right now.

 “I’m fine. I don’t need you hovering over me, I can handle my arm being a little achy.” Joel said and then twitched his arm without meaning to and winced, barely biting back a whimper of pain. Jimmy sighed and ran a hand over his face.

 “Joel, you’re hurt. You don’t have to pretend like you aren’t.” This was not the first time Jimmy had said something like this to Joel. Joel seemed to always lie about how he was feeling, mostly physically but Jimmy was starting to suspect he was also lying about how he felt mentally and emotionally at times as well. Jimmy had no idea why though.

 Of course, Joel really had been able to hide his injuries well enough before. They had never been this bad. Jimmy could see, even with Joel trying to hide it from his sight, that Joel’s arm was bent in a way that had Jimmy feeling a bit sick. It was broken, no way around it and Jimmy was not about to let Joel continue to be hurt because he had some weird thing about others seeing him hurt or vulnerable or whatever it was.

 “I’m not pretending. I’m fine.” Joel repeated through gritted teeth, not looking Jimmy in the eyes. 

 “Joel-”

 “No! Just leave me alone, I can take care of myself.” Joel bit back, cutting Jimmy off. His eyes widened for a moment at the sudden anger that was now being directed at him.

 Jimmy closed his eyes, a sinking feeling filling his chest. He always tried his hardest to never do anything Joel didn’t want to do. He hated the idea of forcing the human to do things like that. He considered Joel his friend, maybe even his best friend, and treating someone like that was not the way to maintain that friendship.

 All that being said…this was something Jimmy couldn’t ignore. Joel’s arm was broken. If they didn’t do something about it, it would heal all wrong or not heal at all. They needed to get it checked out. Joel would never agree to it though and that’s what had Jimmy feeling bad. Because despite Joel’s thoughts on it, Jimmy was really left with no choice.

 “I’m calling Grian.” Jimmy said, making up his mind and already pulling his phone out. Joel was startled out of his anger, whipping his head to face Jimmy and wincing again when that action pulled at his shoulder and arm. 

 “What?! No! I-I’m fine! You don’t have to call-” Joel’s face went pale as Grian picked up the phone, his voice coming out of the speaker.

 “Hello?” Grian answered.

 “Hey, Grian, sorry to bother you but would you be able to come over? I think Joel might have broken his arm.” Jimmy explained, quick and to the point to hopefully counteract any of Grian’s normal teasing.

 There was a bit of silence on the other end as Grian processed what Jimmy said and then he snorted. “Seriously? How did he manage that?”

 Jimmy frowned. “He fell off the coffee table.” Jimmy glanced at Joel, only to see the human was starting to move away. Jimmy bit his lip but moved and cupped his free hand around Joel, effectively stopping him from any sort of escape. Joel let out a yell of surprise and banged his fist, the one connected to his unhurt arm, against Jimmy’s hand but Jimmy barely even felt it.

 “Of course. Alright, I’ll be over in about an hour. I gotta go get my tools.” Grian said and Jimmy didn’t miss the way Joel shivered when Grian mentioned his tools, though he was confused by it.

 “Thanks, Grian. Appreciate it.” Jimmy said.

 Grian hummed. “Yeah, just make sure Joel doesn’t do anything that would hurt it further. I don’t really want to perform an amputation on a human today.” Grian was very clearly only joking, though that didn't stop Jimmy from feeling another shiver from Joel.

 “I know. See you soon.” Jimmy said, wanting this conversation to be done with.

 “See ya.” Grian said and with that, Jimmy hung up the phone.

 “What the hell, Jimmy?!” Joel yelled and Jimmy moved his hand a bit in order to see Joel better. He was still pale and shaking even more now and Jimmy wasn’t so sure it was all due to the pain. “I told you I was fine! I don’t-I don’t need Grian to-” Joel kept cutting himself off, stuttering and throwing out Grian’s name like the word itself was poison.

 “Grian is gonna help you. That’s all he wants. That’s all I want.” Jimmy said, trying to be reassuring. He had no idea why Joel had this apprehension toward his brother but it was starting to concern Jimmy a bit too much.

 “I doubt that’s all he wants…” Joel mumbled to himself though Jimmy clearly heard it.

 “What?” Jimmy asked but Joel just huffed.

 “I told you I never wanted to see him again!” Joel shouted.

 “And I still don’t understand why.” Jimmy said back, more confused than anything. “Obviously you were always gonna have to see him again. Not only is he my brother but he’s your primary doctor.” Being a certified human expert, Grian had several humans under his charge and Joel was only one of them.

 Joel hunched his shoulders, ignoring the pain that came with doing that. He remained silent, refusing to meet Jimmy’s eyes again.

 Jimmy sighed and carefully scooped Joel back up in his hands. “Alright, don’t tell me then.” Maybe Grian would have some sort of idea why Joel seemed to not like him. “Come on, let’s prepare for when Grian gets here.”

 As he got up and started getting ready and clearing out space, Jimmy could only silently wonder what could have happened to make Joel act like this toward his brother. It just didn’t make any sense. After all, Grian was the one who had found and saved Joel from that barren planet in the first place…

[alaskan-wallflower]

the way i kinda see the dynamic between steve and the curtis brothers goes as follows

ponyboy and steve don’t actually hate each other. i see way too many people depicting steve as some heartless bully or something while forgetting that ponyboy still considers the gang—and by proxy, steve—to be his best friends. i also don’t think steve goes around bullying middle school aged children for sport. his and pony’s rivalry is extremely one sided. steve probably thinks pony can be annoying at times while pony’s an angsty teenager who’s under the assumption that everyone’s out to get him (nobody’s fault in this regard—that’s kinda just what happens, especially between a 17 year old senior in high school and someone who should be in middle school). i think steve does have some insecurities about pony coming along on a lot of his and soda’s hangouts, and he doesn’t want to babysit, while pony’s jealous of steve for taking a lot of soda’s attention. i think steve is pretty chill with ponyboy, he just thinks it’s annoying when soda lets him tag along. he doesn’t hate pony and deep down, while pony finds steve annoying, he doesn’t hate him either. they’re very rodrick heffley/greg heffley coded if im being honest. steve sometimes helps check in ponyboy when he’s sick and darry/soda can’t be home and pony always leaves some leftovers out in case steve decides to come by that night. they don’t hate each other at all and the beef is mostly one sided. i doubt steve goes out of his way to bully middle schoolers.

soda and steve are obviously best friends. soda is steve’s safe haven. steve tells soda everything because he doesn’t want to vent too much around ponyboy since the age gap is a bit too much, and he doesn’t feel very comfortable around darry—at least not enough to the point he would feel comfortable being vulnerable around him. steve and soda had been best friends since they were maybe seven years old. they do everything together—from after school activities to double dates with their girlfriends. however, i’ve kinda talked about how i think steve used to bully soda for a bit since steve was really only ever taught that lashing out was the correct way to verbalize his emotions, and he was going through a lot. they eventually became friends after they both lost their recess and they’ve been unseeable since. steve feels horrible for how he used to treat sodapop, but soda has long since forgiven him. he understands that steve was in a lot of mental pain and wasn’t taught how to properly express himself. i feel like this is maybe an extreme term but they could possibly even be considered soulmates. to some extent, at least.

darry’s relationship with steve is the most complex to me. steve, in my head, has an extremely warped perception of masculinity as a whole, both when it comes to himself and, though less intensely, others. he takes issue with a majority of older, male figures of authority. steve was never really taught how to give respect to people with higher authority, nor was he received it from his dad. steve takes issue with darry sometimes because he feels that darry can be too overbearing. steve doesn’t like having his life laid out for everyone to see. and he gets very very annoyed when anyone—especially darry—asks if he’s “okay”. i think it’s more of an internal conflict and maybe an irrational, maybe unwarranted distaste, but it’s still there. steve’s also extremely intimidated by darry, which only serves to fuel his disdain for darry because nobody ever really made him feel that skittish, and steve takes that feeling of nervousness around darry to heart and considers it a blight on his ego. he hates it. nonetheless though, he’ll still hang out with him. i think darry and steve work out together sometimes. steve’s darry’s first choice when it comes to who’s going to take care of pony if something bad were to happen because darry can acknowledge that steve’s responsible. if you guys have seen the pixie and brutus comics, i kinda sssiciate darry and steve’s relationship to be like dexter and brutus’. steve always wants to one up darry and show that he’s the strongest, he’s the fastest, he’s the most capable, and darry’s kinda unfazed, maybe even a little bored of it? it’s complex for sure.

the dynamics between steve and all three curtis brothers is beyond interesting to me.

[andromeda-collective]

Hey can you yap more about your guy please. I wanna read more of you talking about him

YAY OKAY hmmm where do i start

because of the changes to his eyes with the whole experiment thing he cant see certain color wavelengths anymore! (and that part is actually canon!!! when he talks about the blacklight he says that he cant tell if it works or not because its ultraviolet light!) and i like to think he can see random ass shrimp colors now (since he IS a shrimp) and painter is probably annoyed taht sebastian just has access to a completely new range of colors now

he also has definitely has eaten the corpses of expendables. and he probably hates himsefl for it becuase its either cannibalism (bad) OR hes so far from being human that it doesnt count as "eating the same species" anymore (worse!) the scent of blood doesnt get to him TOO much typically (it cant permeate through air as well as water) but if hes anywhere near it he does definitely start feeling a bit feral.

and in a slightly similar vein, hes DEFINITELY malnourished. SEVERELY so. its the only reason hes so thin. hes part BLUE WHALE afterall and those guys arent SUPPOSED to be lean.

he's also definitely bitten his tongue and lip(s) before on multiple occasions and it sucked complete ass. its bad enough when humans do it but he has SHARK TEETH now. honestly im surprised he even still HAS a tongue. i also think he chewed on his fingers a lot just for the hell of it (projecting) and now he REALLY cant do that lol maybe thats why he doesnt have a fourth arm /j

also anglerfish lures dont need to be tugged on like a lamp to turn on so sebastian is doing it ENTIRELY for the bit. hes doing it to be silly and whimsical and most expendables dont know much about marine biology so they just never question it.

also as much as i love the sebastian designs where he is just a fucking CREATURE i think he would still look goofy as hell. like hes still a terrifying leviathan whos existance defies the laws of nature and that can open massive metal doors like theyre merely inconviniently heavy with a gun constantly onhand but. those eyes.. that curly bracket ass smile.. he just looks like such a dork. (affectionately)

i also like to think hes nervous around rabbits. maybe its a phobia maybe he got bit once and is just cautious something with rabbits but that only applies to ACTUAL rabbits. the deep sea bunnies (which are big ass slugs without claws or sharp teeth) are PERFECTLY fine with him. and he loves them :3

he also defintiely gets some form of rugburn from having those belts around his tail (the thing he uses to move around). LIKE THERE IS NO WAY THAT ISNT PAINFUL. and speaking of pain, with how sensitive his eyes are to light now (being a deep sea fish and all) the light from his own lure probably would give him a headache. he doesnt have it on by default, he ONLY turns it on when expendables (humans with worse eyesight) show up. he also probably doesnt like bright lights due to the trauma of the experiments. hospitals and operating rooms arent exactly known for being dark, yknow.

and ive already said this in a post before but im saying it again :3 sebastian did the t-rex hands thing ALL THE TIME before urbanshade because he never knew where to put his hands so he just holds them there. but he eventually came up with the idea of holding his hands clasped together to fix the problem! and then the fish thing happened, and he has a third arm, so hes back to doing the trex thing. just look at it. tell me that im wrong. i dare you /j /silly

also he definitely was a nightcore fan. hes confirmed to like rock (and metallica specifically) and i refuse to believe he didnt listen to nightcore versions of those songs religiously. (i actually looked up the origin of nightcore for this one lmao it first became a thing in 2001 but became popular and more mainstream around 2011 and sebastian was taken by urbanshade in 2013 so he COULDVE FEASIBLY LISTENED TO IT >:3)

thank you for letting me talk more about my guy #myguy

[blooming-cecilia]

i don't know dahlia all that well yet since i've yet to play the interlude (i'm waiting for miss erika's lines to be patched in 🙂‍↕️🤞)

buuut based on the vibes i've been getting...

in the context of lunasmr's wedding audio, i feel like if dahlia ever found out his bestie venti here got married WITHOUT any officiant or witness? he would set off and FORCE him to get a proper ceremony at the church lmfao 😭

i can see it happening post honeymoon audio, once windblume and venti get back to their normal lives

venti's at the tavern as usual but still kinda riding the wedding bliss. while on break from his Very Exhausting job of entertaining the masses, he's chosen to sit with a bunch of his tavern buddies and dahlia. everyone at that point has noted how extra happy the bard is that night, and venti accidentally says the truth without realizing it's consequences, happily yapping about his marriage and honeymoon bc hehe hes very in love so why wouldnt he yap about getting married to his beloved <33

and everyone's just ?!?! but dahlia. ohhh dahlia. he's appalled and after a few moments of silence just sets off on venti. what do you MEAN you got married. with no officiant? no other witnesses?? just both of you??? your marriage isn't OFFICIAL YOU FOOL

venti realizes his mistake and tries to get him off his back but nope! dahlia's not having any of that! he WILL have a proper ceremony This wednesday (aka, the Latest gap in his schedule) and NO he cannot get out of this.

doesn't matter if he knows venti's barbatos or not, dahlia feels like someone who would tell off someone even if they're above him in whatever rank. as long as there's something wrong, he WILL correct it. so there really is no other option but to comply 🤡

sooooo venti has no choice but to tell his beloved windblume that uhhh Well. that second wedding he promised them they'd have if they wanted?? Guess It's Happening Now

and even then it's like, the barest minimum wedding with the deacon and two other witnesses (one from each side)

(unless his windblume wanted to invite more folks of course!)

all because he's annoyed about having to been told to do another wedding just because he was told it wasn't leGaLLy biNdinG 🙄😒

grumbles about it to his windblume as they both get ready that fateful wednesday morning,

"i'm literally god. i should be allowed to legalize my own marriage. why does the church have to approve of MY MARRIAGE. shouldn't have said it with dahlia around, i knew he was gonna nag ..."

"to be fair, he's got a point. i did try to tell you."

"NOT YOU TOO >:("

windblume kisses his cheek and tries to soothe their (soon to be?) husband, barely holding back a laugh.

"well, aren't you glad to be able to marry me again? you were the one excited about having a bunch of weddings!"

the pout from venti's face falls into a small smile.

"that's about the only good thing from this whole nonsense, anyway."

he leans over to kiss his beloved,

"you know i'd marry you every day if i could, my love."

bonus: the best man

let me preface this by saying that because it's mondstadt and because i say so, i believe any person can be elected as a primary attendant/witness regardless of gender. so, i think venti could (and would) have chosen literally anyone available (lol) for his side

but i think it would be funny if he chose diluc as his best man

i was mostly thinking of this in the context of my yumeship, but also? he would probably be chosen because he:

1) knows who venti is so he likely understands the full context of this out of the blue wedding

2) he can roll with the punches and adapt fairly easily

3) venti has a sense of humor

i'm imagining him just dropping by the winery and asking like, "heyyy master diluc, r u free this wednesday? yeah?? ok can u come for a little thing i got going on at the church, promise it won't take up too much of your time <3 k thx see u!!!"

just making it sound super casual like he's asking to hang out. which was super sus already especially with that location. but he got no other clue on why, so he just gets there and BOOM. it was. a weddign . and he's. venti's best man?????????

was So confused getting there early and seeing an unimpressed dahlia waiting. he thinks he got it wrong and was gonna apologize but THEN dahlia goes,

"are you one of his witnesses"

".. what?"

"the bard and [windblume]'s wedding. are you their witness"

(realization)

"...............yes"

and he just sits there waiting along with windblume's chosen witness while inwardly groaning and cursing out venti in his head

not because he had to play best man. he wouldn't have minded. but he would have preferred to have been told he was attending a wedding!! he should have been in a nice proper suit rn!!

he doesn't even have a gift for the couple! though he supposed that can always come later, it still feels wrong to be THIS unprepared and it's on what he thought was gonna be a Perfectly Normal Wednesday Afternoon

somebody save him

[itz-pandora]

Thank you guys for dealing with me

[dykedvonte]

Reading MW takes on Twitter is like reading a summary of the Bible from someone who only watched like a Family Guy family special about it

[c0nnverse]

reading over tumblr's opinions on Meap Me In St. Louis and i think i agree with a lot of the criticisms, it's a very underbaked episode (especially for a 22-minute special), the recasting of Meap is weird (the in-universe explanation of him sounding like John Stamos gave me a chuckle but his 'Meap's sounded wayyy too off), and it's absolutely the weakest Meap episode by a longshot but. i wouldn't call it my least favorite of the season so far because i was in hysterics from the trailer count gag and Stabby Barf Pain was so, so stupid that it wrapped around to being actually funny. the song was a banger too

[rohirric-hunter]

Anyway. I'm gonna start using, "None of These Words are in the Silmarillion," as a catch-all phrase to describe that phenomenon in the Silm fandom where some concept appears from nowhere, based on nothing, makes no sense, and is treated as irrefutable canon for 3-12 business years.

[ssruis]

I personally really could not give less of a fuck about genderswapped ruikasa because first and foremost imo I think people just do it to get yuri warrior points instead of actually caring about female characters/wlw relationships. however I also dgaf because I think people do it in the most boring way possible without thinking about how tsukasa and rui’s personalities would impact how they present themselves as girls.

Tsukasa is so incredibly determined to be seen as a reliable mature older brother figure to the point where he dresses in an incredibly stuffy and boring way & has stripped his room of anything childish (& anything with personality). She would not dress super cute & girly. she would want to be taken seriously (& you should be able to be taken seriously wearing fashion like that but I’m not getting into that rn) & be viewed as anything but childish. She would not dress like Saki she would dress like she worked at a library or something. Her fashion would still be boring. Integral to the character.

I have less to say abt rui because I generally think less about what his fashion choices say about him (beyond hater of tight clothes #sensory issues king) but he is almost never in shorts and dresses in comfy loose fitting clothes he would also not be a hashtag girly girl wearing short skirts and bows either.

‘But I want to draw yuri and I want them in cute clothes’ draw emunene instead. Hope that helps.